Читать книгу Piano in the Dark - Eric Pete - Страница 11

“What are you doing?” I asked into the phone as the remote arm in front of my car rose. I eased into the early evening light of the downtown street. A homeless man outside our parking garage waved a sign: Spare change or a new Harley-Davidson. Either will do.

“Well, I just picked myself up off the floor,” my wife answered.

“Huh?” I said as I motioned the man over, offering up the change in my pocket and giving a thumbs-up to the humor of his sign.

“I’m in shock that you’d call this early, Chase. It’s not even eight o’clock yet.”

“Cute,” I said, figuring out Dawn’s jab at my recent activities. “No late night for me, honey. Wanted to see how you feel about dinner.”

“Are you suggesting a dinner date? On a weeknight?” she teased.

Before entering the street traffic, I looked at my gift on the passenger seat, that kind artistic gesture from a stranger. “Yes. I’m suggesting a date,” I replied with a chuckle. “Be ready. I’ll call you when I get on the Hardy Toll Road.”

“I love you,” my wife said as I prepared to hang up.

“I love you too.”

This was my attempt at mending things with Dawn. But midtown wasn’t far from the office. Only a diversion of a few minutes, I told myself. That reasoning led me to take a circuitous route home; a path that led me down Louisiana under I-45 before winding my way over to Bagby Street. Couldn’t hurt to see if Ava happened to be out and about in her neighborhood. And all I wanted to do was thank her for the thoughtful gift.

See her and be on my way.

Nothing to feel guilty about.

Yeah. Right.

I felt the same sensation, like last night. Little needles pricking my skin all over. Like the only way I could eliminate this feeling was by pressing on. Crazy to think odds would favor my crossing her path this easily, but logic didn’t have a place at the dinner table just now.

I slowed down as I came upon the pub again. Was Ava a regular? Did she usually arrive early? Or was she normally one to shut the place down? Was she with anyone last night? None of my business, but I wanted to know nonetheless.

When I didn’t recognize her from the people entering, I made a left turn onto Webster. It would give me time to figure out whether I wanted to make another round past the place or simply make my way home. Just then, my iPhone rang out from its place in the passenger seat next to Ava’s gift. I hadn’t had a chance to slap my Bluetooth on, so I reached over in case it was Dawn calling. In spite of this minor detour, I wasn’t avoiding her tonight. Things were in a good place at the moment.

“Hello?” I answered, preparing to say why I wasn’t on the Hardy Toll Road just yet.

“You’re gone already?” my friend and boss Jacobi asked. No doubt having stuck his head into my office, he knew the answer, but his tone was more a plea that I change my mind. I was his safety net at the firm.

“Yeah. Dinner with Dawn tonight. I got reservations at Perry’s Steakhouse for us,” I stated so as to stop him from begging that I return to the office—an uncomfortable position I found myself in by virtue of not finishing law school.

To my right on Webster Street, several midtowners moved about on the sidewalk. Some were briskly jogging while others went about their business in a more leisurely manner—walking their dogs or strolling with their children before dark. Life in this trendy yet accessible section of Houston, where the expense of living near downtown was more annoyance than obstacle, was usually interesting to observe. I didn’t hear anything else spoken by Jacobi at the moment as I singled out a lone individual from the rest. She held a full-sized brown paper sack and was walking toward me. Her long black hair bounced with each step. The buzzing jitters that had guided me here ceased.

Although the Randalls grocery bag only afforded me a partial view, I knew it was Ava. She couldn’t have recognized my car from our short encounter last night, so I honked to get her attention. She was slow to react, looking in the wrong direction from behind her bag at first, before continuing her stride.

I was about to honk again, not seeing anywhere to pull over on the shoulder, when our eyes met. It was her. No doubt about it. She smiled, lowering the grocery bag from its high grip. I waved and broke into an equally generous smile. “I’ll call you back,” I said to a still-talking Jacobi just as I hung up.

As I dropped my phone back on the seat, I looked again toward Ava, expecting to see that same warmth emanating from her as before.

Instead I was met with terror as I rolled closer. The grocery bag she held fell, plummeting in freefall onto the pavement, its contents spilling out in disarray. I was thoroughly confused, unable to make out the words she was screaming in my direction. If I’d had more attention on the road, I would’ve understood immediately.

A dog.

A tiny Yorkie.

Amazing what one locks in on in times of stress.

It escaped its owner’s control and had darted out directly in front of my car.

“Shit!” I yelled to no one but myself as I mashed down on the brake pedal, my foot threatening to burst through the floorboard à la Fred Flintstone. My Camry screeched to a halt, inertia sending me lurching forward until stopped by the firm tug of the seat belt. Everyone that witnessed it was as startled as the dog’s owner, seeing the tiny dog scurry off to safety. I allowed myself a moment to retrieve my heart from my throat, knowing I’d prevented a splat on the street.

But when I turned toward Ava again, her face didn’t share my relief. I only had a nanosecond to contemplate this before the world erupted around me in a flurry of thunder and broken glass. My head slammed back into my headrest as my phone and Ava’s gift went sailing into the air, cast aloft by the violent collision I was enduring. As air bags deployed around me in this maelstrom, I was suddenly cast into blackness.