Page 72 of Twice
“Oh yeah,” she said playfully, tapping her fingers lightlyon mine. Then she pulled away, lifted her glass, and gulped the rest of her drink. I caught myself glancing at the hollow of her neck. Her slim fingers. Trying to change the subject, I asked if she’d ever been married. I knew she hadn’t. I asked anyhow.
“No,” she said, looking away. “I mostly meet actors, and it’s not a good idea to put two acting careers under one roof. I know couples like that. It doesn’t work. They say they aren’t competing, but...”
She waved a hand at the waiter and pointed to her glass.
“...they are. It ruins things, you know?”
She dropped her cheek into her palm and gazed across at me. “Writers are different. I wish I could write. I envy you, working alone, nobody directing you. It’s great, right?”
“Um, yeah, sure,” I stammered.
As the piano player was finishing “Night and Day” he hit a bad chord, and I mumbled, “Ooh, that wasn’t good,” probably because her looking at me made me nervous. Then Nicolette said “What wasn’t good?” and I said “That chord” and she said “The piano player?” and I said “Yeah” and she said “Why? Do you play?” and I said “I used to.”
A minute later, the pianist rose and left for the night. The place was emptying out.
“Go play something, Alfie,” Nicolette said.
“Oh, no.”
“Please? I’d love to hear you. Come on.”
I hesitated, then rose, thinkingOK, maybe it’s best to leavethe temptation of this conversation. But Nicolette followedme to the piano, carrying her drink, and to my surprise, she slid in next to me. Her hip pressed against mine and our shoulders touched. I diverted my eyes from her breasts, which were all but spilling out of her top when she leaned forward.
“Um...” I said.
“Um?”
“What do you want to hear?”
“I don’t know.” She smiled as if sleepy. “Something happy.”
Something happy. For some reason, all I could think of was that old Jimmy Durante song “Make Someone Happy” fromSleepless in Seattle, I guess because it had the wordhappyin it. I started playing.
“Oooh, I love this one,” Nicolette said. “Can you sing it, Alfie?”
So I sang. It’s an easy, cute song. When I got to the part about “fame, if you win it, comes and goes in a minute,” she slipped her arm through mine. Then she sang along on the final lines. She knew it word for word.
“Love is the answer,
Someone to love is the answer,
Once you’ve found her
Build your world around her,
Make someone happy,
Make just one someone happy
And you will be happy, too.”
When I finished, Nicolette stared at me.
“Alfie Logan, you are full of surprises.”
Her arm was still hooked in mine, and she lowered her head onto my shoulder. I instantly flashed on the image of Gianna in our first apartment, and how, sitting at the piano, she asked if I had ever done this with anyone else. It flooded me with guilt.
“We should go, huh?” I croaked.
