It Had to Be You by Georgia Clark (iphone ebook reader .TXT) 📕

wrapped her arms around herself, remembering the earthy-sweet-acidic smell of her mom’s Luster’s Pink hair oil. The way it felt to be small and safe in her arms. “After she was gone, my dad didn’t know what to do. How to replace all that. So, he didn’t. He worked, all the time. He was a good provider—I wasn’t missing anything, like, superficially—but we were never close close.” She paused, thinking. “I actually can’t even remember the last time he said I love you.”

Zach looked moved. “Oh, Dee.”

Darlene had never shared this with a guy. Somehow, Zach made it easy. “Maybe that’s why it’s hard for me to talk about my feelings.” She sighed. “Music’s where I express my emotions, I guess.”

“I don’t know how anyone couldn’t express emotion around you.” He gave her a heartfelt smile. “You’re very expressible.”

She rolled her eyes, secretly pleased. It was quiet in the car. Darlene felt surprisingly happy, even unburdened, as they drove in comfortable silence.

Zach turned up the car’s heat a little. “Speaking of music, have you written anything new for your album?”

“Maybe.”

“Let’s hear it.” Then, as she hesitated, “C’mon. I promise not to bite. Unless you want me to.”

“There’s something about it that’s not quite right.” She sang the chorus for him. “He’s my dark secret; she thinks he’s a keeper. She likes to run, but he makes her stand still.”

“I like it.” He hummed the bars, casually harmonizing. “What’s not working for you?”

“I don’t know. It’s not…” She inhaled, thinking. Sometimes talking about music was like dancing about money: square peg, round hole. “Raw enough, or something.”

Zach sang the lines a few more times, playing with the rhythm and pitch. “What’s it about?”

You and me. “Zia and Clay.”

Zach had met Clay; he knew of the secret romance. “Right, of course.” He changed lanes to overtake a lumbering truck. He was a better driver than Darlene remembered. “What if you switch the pronoun to I?” He sang to demonstrate. “He’s my dark secret; I think he’s a keeper. I like to run, but he makes me stand still.”

The lyrics fell around her like Tetris pieces falling into place. Because it was about her and Zach: he was her secret; he was a keeper. She kept her voice as neutral as possible. “Yes. That actually works.”

“You’re actually welcome.” Zach grinned at her. “What other lyrics have you got?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Let’s write it together.”

The prospect was equally scary and intriguing. “We’ve never written a song together.”

“So let’s give it a go. We have got another two hours to kill.”

Darlene wiped her palms in her dress, suddenly nervous. “Okay.”

“So, it’s about Zia and Clay, right? What’s your hot take on their relationship?”

“They’re lucky,” Darlene thought aloud. “To have found someone special. But it’s hard for them. Who he is, and everything. He’s greater than the sum of his parts.”

“Oooh, I like that.” Zach tapped out a beat on the steering wheel, singing. “He’s greater than the sum of his parts, which doesn’t make it easy on my heart.”

“He’s not a player, he’s a stayer, but he keeps himself farther from me than…”

“Australia,” Zach finished, and they both laughed.

Goofing around was fun. But they probably could write a decent song together. Zach was as relaxed and open as she was careful and cerebral. The thrill of creation flowed into her like adrenaline. They had only two hours! She twisted to face him. “Let’s do it for real.”

The street was empty when Zach pulled up outside Darlene’s building. They’d pretty much finished “Dark Secret”: most of the lyrics and harmony and nailed down the hook. It sounded good. She couldn’t wait to start cutting a demo.

Zach turned off the engine. “Thanks again for coming. You were brilliant tonight.”

“You’re welcome. It was very… illuminating.”

“For me too.” He gave her a smile that was sweet… but also sad. “You know you’re way too good for me, right?”

“Don’t say that.” Darlene touched his hand. She wanted to raise it to her mouth and kiss each fingertip. “You deserve the best, Zach. I mean that.”

He waited till she’d unlocked the building’s front door to call through the driver’s side window. “Hey, Dee? I… fake… kind of… really like you.”

Darlene knew he was flirting—that the words were more true than false—and it was so radically impossible that this was the same Zach she’d known for two years. But the smell of the city soured the perfection of the car ride just a little, reminding her that she had to be sensible. Careful. No one changed overnight. The only thing certain about this entire situation was the $25,000 she was making. “Good night, Zach.”

42

While she’d typically come by ’Shwick Chick when it was busy, Savannah waited until Honey was just about to lock up. It was after midnight when they sat at what Savannah had come to think of as her table, a bottle of bourbon between them like a lifeline.

“I feel like an idiot for assuming you were straight,” she said, as plainly as she could. “I’m sorry.”

“To be honest, I didn’t know how you’d react,” Honey said. “I’m still a little cautious about letting new people in.”

“You can let me in,” Savannah said. “Honestly, I’m really interested.”

Honey said she knew she was gay as soon as she knew what being gay was. “I didn’t want to be. I spent years shoving it down, hoping it’d go away. I was so ashamed. So alone. I didn’t know anyone who was gay, apart from, like, celebrities who lived in a completely different world to me. Completely.”

“What do you mean?”

Honey etched her fingernail into the dark wood paneling of the restaurant walls. “My family is super religious. I grew up in a part of Alabama where you wear a purity ring and sex before marriage is worse than drowning puppies. You wouldn’t even recognize me back then. Long hair, makeup. Dresses, always.”

“No tattoos?” Savannah guessed.

“Ha. No. I never planned on telling my parents about who I really was.”

But they found