Page 55 of Until You Say Stay
“Wow. Joni’s a legend,” I say, taking a sip of my beer. “One of the best songwriters of all time.”
She glances over, eyebrows raised. “I’m surprised you’ve even listened to her. She doesn’t really scream race car driver.”
“Always such a lack of faith, Lark,” I say. “I spend half my life alone in cars and hotel rooms with a pair of headphones. I’ve listened to her albumBluea hundred times.”
She laughs. “Okay, now you have to tell me your favorite song from that album. This is a test and there are wrong answers.”
“Well, the title track is objectively perfect,” I say without hesitation. “Fight me on that.”
“I’m not going to fight you when you’re correct,” she laughs, looking genuinely delighted. “Though I thinkA Case of Youis a close second.”
“That’s a solid choice,” I concede.
“Still can’t believe you’re a Joni fan. Weneedto compare playlists! I don’t know how we haven’t done that yet.”
“Done,” I laugh, taking another sip of my beer. “We have a long flight to Miami tomorrow. I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”
“Not a bad way to spend a flight,” she declares. “Though I know some of your taste is questionable since you told me you liked that Neon Wolf album the other night.”
“I am going to change your mind about that album.” I say, shaking my head. “It’s good and you’re just being stubborn.”
“Not a chance, though I am excited to see what else you’re hiding in there. Maybe some guilty pleasure pop?” She’s teasing now, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Or like, European techno to get pumped up before races? Heavy bass drops and no lyrics?”
“I do like European techno,” I admit. “If we’re ever in Europe together I’ll take you to this club in Berlin.Berghain. It’s legendary. Twelve-hour DJ sets, complete sensory overload.”
“Yeah? I think I’d actually like that.” She laughs, leaning her hip against the bar. “I haven’t been dancing in years but Iloveit. So we can stay out until sunrise if the music’s good.”
“Deal. And trust me, the music’s always good.”
We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other, and a warmth settles deep in my chest. This easy back-and-forth, discovering we like the same things. Like we just found another piece that fits together.
Maya appears at Lark’s elbow suddenly, breaking the moment. “Lark, there’s someone I really want you to meet. Harrison’s boss just arrived and he’s only in Seattle for tonight. He’s been asking about you specifically.”
“Oh, I’d love to meet him,” Lark says, shooting me a quick wink before returning to Maya. “Lead the way.”
She gives me one more smile over her shoulder as Maya guides her back into the crowd, and I watch her go. She’s magnetic without even trying. And I’m completely fucked because I can’t stop thinking about how much I want this to be real.
We stay another hour. Lark works the room like she was born for it, collecting business cards and making connections. Every time I catch her eye across the room, she’s smiling. This is what she’s been working toward for years, and watching it happen feels like being part of something bigger than our arrangement.
Finally, around eight, we make our excuses because of our morning flight and head out to the parking lot. The night air is cooler now, a relief after the warmth of the crowded bar. In her car, I drive while she tells me all the details of conversations I missed when she got pulled away.
“I mean, three people gave me their actual business cards with their direct phone numbers,” she says, practically bouncing in her seat. “Not assistants, their actual numbers. And Maya saidshe’ll be in touch next week, that the team has a lot to discuss. That’s huge!”
“You killed it in there,” I tell her, merging onto the highway that’ll take us back to Dark River. “Everyone in that room wanted to work with you. You could see it.”
“I still can’t believe it,” she says, pulling the business cards out of her clutch to look at them again like they might disappear. “That this is really happening.”
“It’s happening because you’re talented as hell and you’ve worked for it.”
“And because you’ve been helping with the Instagram thing,” she adds, looking over at me with gratitude clear in her expression. “Don’t pretend that didn’t matter. Maya mentioned our engagement rates multiple times tonight.”
“Your music got you in that room,” I say firmly. “The Instagram stuff opened the door, but your talent is what made them pay attention.”
We’re quiet for a few miles after that, comfortable silence with just the highway noise and the radio playing low. The city lights fade behind us as we head north, replaced by darker stretches of road lined with Douglas firs.
“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” she says, shifting in her seat to look at me.
“Shoot,” I say, glancing over briefly before returning my eyes to the road.
