Page 4 of The Sound of Silence

“Hey,” he greeted as I approached.

“Hey,” I repeated like a freaking parrot. This was going to be harder than I thought. “So, um… I feel like I owe you for what happened back there. What do you say? Want to grab a cup of coffee sometime?”

Ethan’s sexy grin widened, although he didn’t answer right away. The grin was a good sign, despite the fact his hesitation made my insides twist with apprehension. I was practically bouncing on my toes waiting for him to answer. After what felt like forever, but was probably more like three seconds, he responded.

“Okay, I’ll go for coffee, but only on one condition.”

“What’s the condition?” My brow furrowed in confusion.

“I get to call you Gia.”

2

Ethan

Iwatched her walk back into Teddy’s Tavern, carefully balancing the door with her delicate little hand so it didn’t slam closed. She tossed me a quick smile before disappearing inside, giving me one last look at her perfectly shaped ass when she turned.

Her body was tight and compact, like my very own Scarlett Johansson. Their likeness was uncanny; she could easily pass as the actress’s double. Still, I couldn’t help but notice no panty lines were visible through Gianna’s black pants. I wondered if she was wearing a thong. Or maybe she wasn’t wearing underwear at all. I hoped it was the latter.

Then again, maybe I didn’t want that.

I chewed my lower lip as I started the car and pulled away from the curb. I wondered if Scarlett Johansson went completely without. As soon as the idea popped into my mind, I chuckled. How stupid of me? Of course a refined beauty like her would choose a thong over nothing at all. A woman who went commando would definitely classify as sexually immoral, sinning against her own body.

And it was dirty.

Did I want my girl to be dirty?

No.

Hopefully, Gianna had class like Scarlett. I thought she did, but I’d need to make sure. If she didn’t, I could adjust to the changes if needed. Intelligent men like me adapted. Hadn’t I proved as much tonight? My original plan had been to stage a run-in with my girl. It would have been brilliant and romantic—a love at first sight sort of thing.

But love was hard work and it was never predictable.

So, when a different opportunity presented itself, I took advantage. Casually mentioning the pretty bartender who worked at Teddy’s to the drunk loitering outside of the music festival had been all too easy. He took the bait—and the fifty-dollar bill I slipped him—allowing me to become her knight in shining armor. And the rest, as they say, was history.

Or at least it will be.

A few minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of a run-down apartment building in Avondale. I grabbed the duffle bag I’d hidden away under a flannel blanket in the backseat and climbed out of the car. I grimaced as the smell of urine from the nearby alley assaulted my nose. The area, in general, was the definition of urban decay. With the rising crime rate and deteriorating housing, the absentee landlords neglected their properties, and tenants often abused the buildings. I scowled at the surrounding rot.

Why would anyone actually choose to live here?

The only reason I rented this particular flat was so I could have a safe place to stash my earnings. It was cheap, and it worked. I never planned to spend any amount of time there. I much preferred the pristine and orderly space of my inherited condo over on West 4thStreet.

Then I wandered into Teddy’s Tavern two years and seventeen days ago. From that moment on, everything changed—that’s when I saw my girl for the first time.

In an instant, I knew I could love her. We were meant to be together. She didn’t have to smile or be polite as I sat at a table all alone that day at Teddy’s. Sure, she may have acted like I was any other customer as she jotted down my order for a bowl of baked potato soup and a craft beer, but it was obvious we were experiencing our first date.

She knew it.

I knew it.

I remembered the special day as if it had happened only yesterday. A nearby customer had spent a small fortune on eighties tunes at the jukebox. I hadn’t minded because Sade was piping through the speakers.

And it was our song—mine and my girls.

And that was me.

I was a smooth operator.

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