Page 56 of You Spin Me

I’ll be back, is what I say to myself.

It tookevery bit of the self-control drilled into me during years of ballet to get through tonight’s show. Now, butt back in my car for the drive home, I turn up the heat and the radio and debate whether I should go home or to the station.

Seeing him this afternoon rocked my world. The drive north helped me calm down a bit, and my preshow rituals got me focused. Mostly. Performing this nutty play is probably as good a way as any to channel the crazy mix of feelings set off by seeing Cal in person for the first time. By feeling the surge of electricity when his hands touched mine.

When his voice comes through my car speakers, those feelings perk right up again, and it’s suddenly crystal clear that I need to talk to him. In person. Having seen his scars, I get that they might be what’s had him keeping me at a distance. I’m sure he’s had some bad experiences because of it.

But…

I didn’t go to law school like my brother, but dinner at my family’s table growing up was like being on the debate team. Let’s just say I have a lot ofbutsto argue with by the time I pull into the station lot.

The station’s front door is locked, however. It is almost eleven o’clock. Remembering what Cal said about the volunteers who deal with late-night visitors, I push the button by the squawk box until a giant of a man answers the door, so fierce-looking he probably moonlights as a bouncer at one of the clubs down the street.

All my arguments for Cal won’t work on this guy, but I have other tools at my disposal. The only good thing about a body like mine is that it makes men stupid.

Tipping my head to the side and crossing my legs, I let a lazy smile spread across my face. I give him a breathy “Hi” and then bite my lip.

He frowns. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so.” I do a little wiggle as I unzip my coat and lean against the door frame. After his gaze drops to check out the maracas, I go on. “I was here earlier today recording some promos.” This is where it gets tricky. I don’t think I’m getting past this guy if Cal told him he doesn’t want to see me.

Bringing a hand to my brow, damsel-in-distress style, I shake my head like it’s the end of the world. “I can’t find my wallet, and I think it might’ve fallen out of my purse when I was in the booth. I have to work early tomorrow, so I’d really like to get it now.” I top of the speech with pitiful puppy eyes.

Any director would laugh me offstage for this performance, but desperation has me pulling out all the stops.

He blinks slowly and then looks over my shoulder into the parking lot like maybe I brought back up. His lips flattening, he sighs. “All right. But everything’s locked up down at that end. I’ll have to escort you down there.”

Hands fly to a prayer position over my heart. “Thank you so much.”

Once I’m inside and he’s turned the deadbolt behind me, he heads down a hallway I haven’t used before. Whoever designed this building must’ve use Boston streets as inspiration. I play Chatty Cathy as I follow him, finding out that his name’s Big Bob, he’s worked here for four years, he’s a security guard but he also drives the station van to special events, and that he’s studying sound engineering at a community college. When he opens the door to the recording studio, I manage a nice little sleight of hand while he turns on the lights. Covering my actions with a swoop of my hair, I chuck my wallet in the corner. Then I look for it in the opposite corner.

“Is that it?” Big Bob asks, pointing to my wallet.

“Oh my gosh! You’re my hero.”

Leading the way out, I head in the opposite direction of the way we came. “Thank you so much, Big Bob.”

Before he can say anything about my choice of route, I turn around and walk backward. “Jones was going to show me the listener line lounge earlier, but I had to run.” This is a total lie, but I do remember Cal saying once that the lounge is next to the broadcast studio. I keep walking, talking over my shoulder. “It’s this way, right?”

“Uh, yeah, but—”

I grab his hand. “I won’t make any noise; don’t worry. I know you have to be quiet around the booths. Believe me, when somebody slammed a door while I was recording earlier, that was so frustrating.”

I bat my eyes at him, ask him a few questions about his studies, and let him lead the way since I really have no idea where I’m going. When Bob opens a door and ushers me inside a large room filled with assorted seating and a handful of half-asleep humans, we’re greeted by a woman with magenta hair, square-framed glasses and a wary smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce your friend, Big Bob?”

Stepping away from me, his round cheeks turn pink. “Oh no, she’s not my friend.”

I reach out a hand. “I’m Jessica Abraham. I dropped my wallet when I was here earlier today.”

The woman’s penciled-in brows rise. “Jessica, huh?”

My smile is hopeful. “Yep.”

“I’m Talia.” She draws a circle in the air behind her, indicating the volunteers. “I’m in charge.” Her Southie accent really kicks in on the last word. I know I’m facing the real gatekeeper when she crosses her arms over a generous bust and looks me up and down, taking inventory. “And you’re Jess. From the phone.”

Suddenly warm, I take off my coat. “Guilty as charged.”

Flirting’s not gonna get me through this door, so I spit out the truth. “I’d really like to talk to Cal before I leave.”

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