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“Do you have something better to do?” Darcy asked. I smiled at her and shook my head.
No, I did not. Right now, there was nothing more important than spending time with Darcy and showing her exactly what sort of a person I was.
11
DARCY
“As you can see, it gets good light in the afternoons.”
I watched as Callum walked around the large, open warehouse. He observed the windows and nodded at my comments. He spun around and I saw him imagining different furniture pieces in the room or where he could put walls. Was he really serious about this recording studio thing?
“The ceiling is really high,” he said. “It would be difficult to soundproof the place.”
“It would,” I agreed, though in truth I didn’t know anything about recording studios and what the space might look like. Liz and I primarily stuck with residential properties but, in a small town like ours, it wasn’t uncommon for us to list some of the commercial buildings for friends or family.
“The last place was closer to the downtown area. That might be helpful for a new business.”
“It might …” I said, still trying to understand what he was looking for, “if you’re hoping for a lot of foot traffic ... is that the sort of thing you need for a recording studio?”
He seemed to really consider the question as he looked back at me.
“I guess you’re right,” he said. It surprised me to realize he might be taking my advice seriously. “Somewhere a bit further from Main Street might be helpful. A bit quieter. We might be recording late into the night, so we wouldn’t want to disturb anyone with all the coming and going.”
Callum walked toward the back where there were a few offices along the wall. This place used to be a newspaper office, with a big open space for reporter desks and a few private spaces in the back. The local paper had downsized quite a bit in the last few years, with most reporters working remotely, and they no longer needed such a big space.
“You do realize that Maplewood isn’t exactly crawling with musicians?” I asked. Callum was inside one of the offices, opening and closing the blinds on the windows that looked out onto the main room.
“Oh, it won’t be locals coming here,” he said. “It’ll be other artists I know.”
“And why would they come to Maplewood?” I asked. I liked our town, but it definitely wasn’t a tourist destination. It was a sleepy place where all the restaurants closed by nine p.m. I couldn’t imagine famous rock stars flocking to the town to record their next album.
“People are looking for an escape,” Callum told me. I had a feeling he was speaking from experience. “They want somewhere quiet where they can focus on the music. They’re going to spend ten or twelve hours in the studio. Where they sleep isn’t very important.”
We walked back to the open room, and I shifted on my feet, waiting for his opinion of the fourth property of the day.
“What do you think?” I asked. I was itching to get out of the place after an afternoon with Callum. He kept looking at me with an intense stare that made me instantly flash back to the previous night in his dressing room. I needed to drive back to the office and excuse myself to get back to work.
“It’s not right,” he sighed. “It doesn’t have the right vibe. Too cold.”
“Got it,” I said, holding my tongue. Every place we visited had some “vibe” problem. It was too clinical or too cold. One of the properties was too “spiritual”, whatever that meant!
“Let’s find another,” he said, and I inwardly groaned.
“That’s pretty much it,” I told him. “I’ve shown you what we have available in the Maplewood area. Anything else, we’ll have to go much further out.”
“No problem,” he said, smiling as he crossed to the door. “I’ve got all day.”
I felt anxiety and annoyance flood my chest.
“Callum!” I cried, finally letting my frustration out. He spun around, a slight smile on his face. “I don’t have all day. I have to get back to the office.”
He crossed closer and gave me that stare again. I was suddenly on his dressing room counter, feeling his mouth on me, eager for more. I shook my head and forced the image out of my mind.
“Blow off work,” he said, his voice low. “We could just enjoy ourselves.”
His eyes fell down to my lips, and I thought he might kiss me. I wasn’t about to let that happen. Last night was a one-time thing, and I couldn’t let it become a pattern. Not when I knew he was only here for the summer. If I got too attached, I would be the one hurt when he left. I reminded myself of our date all those years ago, when he had no problem leaving without a word.
“I can’t,” I said, pushing past him and heading for the door. I didn’t stop. I simply set my sights on the car outside and made a beeline for it. He followed me and I locked the building up in silence. I was relieved that he stayed quiet while we returned to the car and had a silent drive back to the real estate office.
