Page 59 of Paint the Town, Dove
Ryden lead the way as we walked. “Want to go to a toy store?”
“No.”
“How about an antique boutique?”
“No.”
“Love shop?”
I quirked a brow. “Seriously?”
“What?” He laughed, tossing out his wrapper and mine.
“Are you bored or something?”
“It’s our day off!”
“No destination in mind, right? Just wandering like wolves?”
He nudged my shoulder. “Is that not the beauty of fucking New York City? We can be whoever we want to be.”
“RYDEN SPECTRE!!” Two girls screamed, rushing up to him. “Can we take a photo, oh my God, I love you!”
After two minutes of that debacle, we carried on our walk, only now Ryden’s hood was up with my sunnies secured atop his nose.
“Whoever we want, hm.”
He scoffed. “This is who I want to be, don’t get it twisted.”
“Yup,” I nodded. “Absolutely. Incognito, looking like a bank robber walking past –” I glanced up, “oh would you look at that! A Chase. You play the part so well.”
He grabbed my head, pulling me in roughly for a hug. “You tantalizing woman.”
Our surprise “day off” ended up becoming legit, and for the first time in years, I felt that youthful ecstasy take over me.
And I let it in.
We sat down at a boardgame lounge and played Monopoly.I beat him.
We bought matching beaded bracelets from an old antique dealer – his black, mine white.They were buy one get one free.
Then we went into a pottery shop, but walked right out before a table of fans swarmed us like honey to bees.
“Where to now? Home?” I asked.
“Nah, not yet.” We stopped pace in front of Radio City. “How ‘bout we check out the venue?”
I looked around. “No one’s inside?”
He shook his head. “Just me and you, Dove.”
Like always.
***
Our backs rested atop the stage, dim lights crackling in pulses.
There’s something to be said about an empty concert hall. Thereshouldbe people, there would be, maximum capacity in fact. But here, alone, it felt like a cemetery of old musicians, a tribute to the greats who played beforeus–him. Him.
