Andrew Price - Without A Hitch

“Don’t know. . don’t care.”

Blue set a beer down in front of Corbin when Corbin returned from the stage. Blue was grinning, which made Corbin suspicious.

“This beer come from the young lady over your left shoulder. Brunette. Very pretty,” he said in his deep, raspy voice.

“Which one?” Corbin asked, scanning the crowd.

“You know who Jean Simmons is?”

Corbin squinted at Blue. “From KISS?”

“No, the actress. . 1950’s. She was in that movie with Brando and Sinatra. She kind a’ look like her.”

“Sounds temping, but I’ll pass.”

“You ain’t gonna wanna pass on this one.”

Corbin started to protest, but Blue grabbed his arm.

“I promised I’d send you over if I had to carry you. You gonna make a liar outta me?”

Corbin chuckled. “All right, but just because we’re friends.”

It took Corbin only a few seconds to spot the woman. She would have stood out in any crowd. She was sitting at a small table with her back to the bar, wearing a green vintage dress from the 1940s. The dress had an hourglass shape and was cut tightly around the knees, where it flared out before finishing mid-calf. Her auburn-brown hair was held up in a twist, exposing her neck. One hand gracefully stirred a martini glass with a straw. The other rested in her lap.

As Corbin approached, he suddenly recognized her as the woman with the pink flower, though she didn’t have the flower with her tonight. “Blue, you sneaky dog,” he said to himself. He pulled back his shoulders and said, “May I join you?”

“Please do,” she said confidently, though she began nervously shaking her crossed leg.

“Thanks for the beer.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you like the performance?”

She smiled. “You’re very good.”

“Thank you.”

Neither seemed to know what to say next. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Both of their hearts were beating faster.

“Can I ask you a question?” Corbin finally said, as he tried to suppress the grin slowly taking over his face.

The woman lightly brushed a stray hair from her face before nodding.

“Why the pink flower?”

“Pink flower?” Now she too struggled to suppress a grin.

“I’m pretty sure you had a pink flower on your table when I first saw you,” Corbin said, resting both arms on the table.

“Fascinating,” she replied breathlessly.

“That’s not a denial.”

“It’s not a confirmation either. Why the change in your music?” she countered.

“Change?”

The woman looked down at the table. She ran her fingers up and down the stem of her martini glass. “You haven’t noticed?” she said, with a hint of disappointment.

“I take it, you mean more than just the playlist?”

“Don’t tell me you really haven’t noticed?”

Corbin reluctantly shook his head.

“You haven’t heard the incredible passion in your music lately?”

“Passion?”

“For the past month or so, in everything you’ve played.”

Corbin raised an eyebrow. “Wow, no one’s ever told me that before.”

The woman tilted her head to one side and half-squinted one eye. “You’re kidding?”

“No, honestly. I’d love to hear more.”

She smiled. For the first time, she noticeably blushed.

“I’ve just had a thought,” Corbin said. “I noticed you haven’t eaten, and I’m pretty hungry myself, and it sounds like this could take some time. And as much as I like Blue, he’s not the best cook. But I know this wonderful Mexican place in Ballston. They’re open until three in the morning. Want to join me for some very late dinner?”

“What should I say to that?”

“Say ‘yes.’ No one can resist Mexican food after midnight.”

Molly lounged more than sat on Corbin’s desk with her legs crossed at the knee and one foot propped up on the extra chair. The other foot bounced around in the air out in front of her, with her high-heeled sandal dancing from the ends of her toes. Her hands were on the desk behind her, balancing her body as she leaned backwards. It was high-summer and Molly was as skimpily dressed as the dress code would allow. Above her tan stockings she wore a tan miniskirt and a white silk blouse with rolled-up sleeves and a wide open collar. A silver chain hung around her neck with two intersecting hearts. This was a gift from Shoe Guy, whom she was still dating.

Corbin slumped in his chair. His light-gray suit looked wrinkled and his tie rested loosely around his neck. The top button on his shirt was unbuttoned.

“What happened to you?” Molly asked.

“What do you mean?” Corbin asked through half-open eyes.

“You look like you haven’t slept, you’re grinning like an idiot, and no offense, but you smell like a Mexican restaurant. Beyond that everything seems normal,” Molly added sarcastically. She pushed her hair back over her ear. It was blonder than it had been in the past, but was still brunette. “Wait a minute, you’re hung over, aren’t you?!” She grinned mischievously and leaned toward Corbin. “I’m not giving you a headache am I?!” she said as loudly as she could without yelling.

“Sorry, no such luck.”

She leaned back again. “So, what happened? You get a night job in a taco factory?”

“No, haven’t been to bed yet.”

“ Really , what gives?” She sat up straight, bringing both feet to rest on the chair and folding her arms across her knees.

Corbin smiled.

“Come on, spill.”

Corbin shook his head.

“Come on, just between us girls.” She tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

Corbin just smirked.

“Tell me!” she commanded, as she shoved his shoulder.

Corbin chuckled.

“I’ll forget the cookie you owe me,” she offered.

“I don’t owe you a cookie,” Corbin objected.

“Yes, you do. . tell me !” she pleaded.

“All right,” Corbin finally relented “I met this woman last night.”

“All this,” Molly said, waving one hand at Corbin’s disheveled suit and his sleepy eyes, “for a woman? Is she the first one you’ve met or something?”

“It seemed that way last night.”

This caught Molly by surprise. “Wow. Go on.”

“She’s amazing. . smart, witty. . wickedly funny. She’s one of those people who’s thought about a million things in detail and can discuss any topic intelligently. Wide range of interests.”

“Nice personality, huh?” Molly rolled her eyes.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve never been so comfortable talking to anyone in my life.”

“Hoo boy, this sounds like trouble.”

“She’s beautiful too. . gorgeous green eyes.”

“Does this goddess have a name?” Molly’s question contained more than a hint of derision.

“Penny.”

“ Penny ? Don’t tell me, her last name is Lincoln or Fromdamint?”

Corbin didn’t respond.

“So where did you meet her? Sidewalk? Bank? Numismatist convention?”

Corbin ignored Molly’s continuing sarcasm. “No, she showed up at the club. We talked for about an hour and then went to Cafe Rio over in Ballston.”

“I know the place. What happened next?”

“Nothing. We stayed there until they kicked us out about 3:30. We talked a little longer outside by the patio. Then I went home.”

“You went home. . alone ?!”

“Yeah.”

“Talked?”

“Yeah.”

“Just talked?”

“Just talked.”

“That’s one heck of a story, but the ending needs work.”

Corbin shrugged his shoulders.

Over the next couple weeks, Corbin and Penny spent most of their free time together. Not only did they meet at the club whenever Corbin played, but they often went out afterwards. They also met for lunch several times, dinner twice, and caught a concert at the Kennedy Center. When they weren’t out on the town, they spent most of their time at Corbin’s apartment. Though Penny’s apartment in Old Town was equally nice, she lived with her sister, which limited their privacy, so they tended to end up at his place. Tonight, they were wandering through Pentagon City Mall. Ostensibly, they were waiting for a movie, but the movie had long since started without them.