An Unlikely Alliance

"Do you remember the words to 'All I Ask of You?'"

A strange question for here at the shelter.

"I think so. Why?"

"See all these people. They're not used to hearing that kind of music. Are you game?"

"You mean to sing?" I'm sure I had a terrified look on my face.

"No, no, no, you were great the other night. I'm anxious to do it." He looked around the room. "I'm ready to start."

No more talk of darkness

Forget those wide-eyed tears

The buzz of conversation ceased immediately, and all eyes were fixed on our table. The look on Grant's face told me he was loving it--loving the surprised faces all around the room.

When my turn came, I sang, surprised to hear my voice acapella. I wasn't used to that. When it was time to sing together, he slid his chair beside me, put his arm around my shoulders, and we sang.

When we finished, there was loud applause, and nearly everyone stood.

"Well, that wasn't on the schedule, but I think we're all glad it happened. Thank you so much, Grant and Julie. You two blended perfectly," Marilyn said as she clapped and gestured toward our table.

It wasn't long ago that Grant and I weren't blending very well at all.

He gave me a couple of warm squeezes before he removed his arm from my shoulder. But he was also gazing at me differently.

"Julie, I feel like I have to make things up to you for the antagonism I created."

"Grant, I think we're good, and you don't owe me anything."

"Nope, I don't agree. I want to take you to dinner to...well, you know."

I wasn't sure That I knew, but I suspected. This was a complete reversal of everything, and I wasn't sure I could spin around that fast. But I had discovered that Grant was a much more pleasant guy than I had imagined.

"On one condition."

"Uh-oh. What's that?"

"That you don't decide we'll sing to the crowd at the restaurant."

Grant laughed as his arm went around my shoulder again, and I received another gentle squeeze...and a big smile.

Well, I'd done it and wondered what Casey would have to say about it. Grant had gone to the clothing room, and I promised to join him after a trip to the restroom. I saw Casey angling that way as well.

"Okay, what's going on?" she asked, smiling at me. "Grant ran up to me and asked if I'd driven you here, and when I said I had, he wanted to know if he could drive you home since you both live in the same building."

That made me smile, but I needed to act tough. "He's going at it backward. He needed to ask me first."

"Shit," Casey said. "Don't you dare tell him I told you."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"But that is cool. I've found Grant to be a great guy."

"He asked me to dinner."

"Awww. Well, hurry up and pee and get back to the clothing room."

I did just that and helped Grant with two more families, fascinated as I saw his humor, kindness, and concern for each one of them.

When we finished, he said, "Listen, since we live in the same building, why don't I drive you home since we're friends now?"

I couldn't betray Casey. "Um, I rode here with Casey and..."

I shrugged, but I think my face told him more than my words.

"She told you, didn't she?"

l nodded. "In the restroom," I admitted.

"Am I in trouble?" Grant was no longer smiling.

"I'm flattered, actually."

"I'll have to file that thought away. I may need it in the future."

Future? We were going to dinner, and there was no future after that. At least not yet.

"But you have to agree that it makes sense. Right, Julie?"

"It does, and I'm ready when you are."

Grant's car wasn't a Lexus, which I don't think I could have handled, and he drove very carefully and sensibly. I mentioned it, and he told me he enjoyed thrills and taking chances, but not when they created danger for those not involved.

At traffic lights, Grant would turn and look at me, and I realized that his very dark eyes, which were now very entrancing, had been very unnerving when we were fencing with each other.

He rode the elevator with me to the fifth floor and walked me to my door.

"Just being double-safe," he told me. "Even in a secure building, there can still be weirdo's around."

When I looked at him and giggled, he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "I'm off to the eighth floor, and I'm anxious for Friday night."

I smiled. "Me too," I added, and it was true. I was anxious to see what Grant might be like in a very private situation. Casey seemed to think he was fine.

We'd see.

Inside my apartment, I headed quickly for the bedroom and changed into some lightweight sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. A pair of fluffy bedroom slippers completed my ensemble.

I checked the hallway and headed for the elevator.

On the roof, I went to the back of the utility building and climbed the metal ladder, finally seating myself on the flat roof.

It was a moonlit night with a very gentle breeze that carried the aroma of fresh air rather than the sometimes stench of the city. Being above the tenth floor helped.

I backtracked through the last several days, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. From a screaming match on this very roof to having a dinner date with him this Friday night. So much so fast.

Seeing him and being with him under very different circumstances had revealed a very different person from the one I'd encountered right here. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing about me. Bad days sometimes produced selves that we weren't particularly proud of.

I was also trying to work out how to be on the Friday date. Should I be a little standoffish or maybe flirt a little? Maybe just play it by ear.

I heard a sound and turned my head.

"Well, a little thinking to do as well?" Grant asked as he climbed onto the roof and sat down across from me.

I shrugged. "This is the place I do it if I need to."

"As long as we don't think out loud, it should be okay because I'm guessing we're thinking about the same thing."

"I'm not telling," I said, smiling at him.

"I don't know, maybe being able to look at each other while we think might be helpful."

I wasn't sure I could sit there and think the thoughts I'd been thinking while looking at Grant. Those dark eyes looking back at me, I was afraid would color my thinking. I had to smile because those dark eyes weren't meeting mine but were looking at my red hair, I was sure. Maybe we had mutual distractions.

"Maybe, instead of thinking, we should talk," he suggested.

"Good idea. Who's Grant Jennings?"

He just looked at me, a surprised expression on his face.

"So, you just like to jump right in, huh?"

"Maybe I should have added in twenty-five words or less.

"That would sure make it easier, but I hope I'm worth more than twenty-five words."

"Me too," I added, bringing a smile from Grant.

"Sometimes I act before I think. You know, it's reacting rather than acting."

"And I don't forget things when I should let them go. But not always," I added.

When I'd finished speaking, I laughed. "Now we've each revealed our only fault."

"I wish. I came up here to think and search for answers, I guess, but it's been taken care of."

A moment's thought. "Me too."

"Then let's go back to our apartments and watch some TV...maybe sip some wine." Grant stood and scampered down the ladder, waiting for me to follow. I backed down and was sure Grant was enjoying watching my butt twitching back and forth. Nothing I could do about it in the thin sweatpants.

He took my hand for the last two steps, and we hurried to the elevator, the temperature on the roof having cooled. At least he'd said "apartments" rather than inviting me to his. I'm not sure I was ready for that.

◇-◇-◇-◇

It arrived as I knew it would--Friday. I wasn't used to looking forward to something while feeling a certain hesitancy at the same time. I didn't have to prepare for Richardson's this time, though, and was anxious to go to Colombo's Italian Restaurant. Grant had talked it up while letting me know that casual clothing was in order.

I'd chosen a sleeveless green blouse, white slacks, and some green shoes with small heels, which I'd had for a while. I was tempted to put my hair in pigtails, but I knew how Grant seemed to enjoy my red hair, so I just brushed it and left it long. I think that was telling me how I felt about the date...and about Grant. It was a mix of serendipity and karma, if that was possible.

Grant picked me up, which amounted to riding the elevator from the eighth floor to the fifth floor. If we wanted convenience, we had it. We rode the elevator to the lobby and were quickly in Grant's car. Fifteen minutes later, we were going through the door at Colombo's. This was very different from Richardson's, with plaid tablecloths and an empty wine bottle with a battery-operated candle on each table.

"Used to have real candles, and that was much nicer. I guess this is safer, but I wasn't afraid before."

"So you come here a lot?" It looked like a friendly and homey place.

"Not a lot, I guess, but regularly. The food is so good."

"What do you suggest?"

Grant looked at me and bite his lower lip, then smiled.

"Too much pressure," he said. "Since I don't know what you like, I'd suggest you order something you're familiar with."

That limited me to spaghetti or lasagna, about the only Italian dishes I was familiar with. As I was thinking, the server arrived. I was sure I looked momentarily lost.

The very young and sweet lady began with, "The spaghetti here is the best this side of the Mississippi."

That sure helped, and I ordered the spaghetti along with some garlic bread. I was surprised that Grant ordered the same thing. We also ordered wine and fried mozzarella sticks.

When the wine came, and we'd both had a couple of sips, Grant gave me one of those looks that told me some special words were on the way. I chuckled.

"I don't hide my thoughts very well, do I?" he said, shaking his head.

"You don't hide the fact that there are thoughts there that want to get out."

"I guess that's what I meant. Anyway, now that we're here, on our first date, I can share something with you that you couldn't have cared less about."

"Past tense, huh?"

"Yeah, past tense." He paused for a moment. "Both times we had those disagreements, when we'd gone our separate ways, I couldn't get the picture of that red hair out of my mind. I kept seeing it, picturing it, thinking about it, and wishing we could somehow be friends."

"My hair did all of that?" I replied, sure my cheeks were pink.

"I guess since you have red hair, you're immune to that red hair fascination that can affect some people, like me."

"So, if I didn't have red hair, you wouldn't even notice me?" I teased.

"There's always something about a person you notice right away, and then, when you get to know them some, it's what you've learned that keeps you attracted to them, and that first thing becomes just a special feature."

I'd never had it explained like that before, but it made sense. Grant had those dark eyes that had affected me in different ways at first, but after seeing him working at the shelter and getting to know him better, they were...well, just a special feature that I still enjoyed.

"I like your eyes," I said. "At first, they were kind of Svengali eyes that went along with the arguing we were doing. After the shelter, though, I enjoyed looking at them."

We talked as we waited for our food to be served and eventually got around to the inevitable question.

"What do you do for a living?" he asked.

"Real estate," I answered. "I'm involved with contracts most of the time, but I do get a chance to show and sell houses occasionally."

"Just occasionally?"

"Yeah, particularly if I get caught up with the contract work or if someone asks for me specifically. Some of the people I've worked with in the past want me to help them."

"Probably just want to see that red hair again," Grant said, a big smile on his face.

I laughed. "I'm going to put on a scarf so we can talk about something besides my hair."

"I'll restrain myself since I don't want...well, you know."

Thank goodness the food arrived about that time and was so good; we were too busy eating to talk. When the plates were cleaned up, the garlic bread basket empty, and the spumoni ice cream Grant insisted on ordering were gone, it was my turn.

"Your turn now. What do you do for a living?"

"I was afraid you were going to ask that."

"What, mafia, drug dealer, or worse?" I teased.

At least Grant laughed at that. "Not worse. I guess. I was fortunate and chose my parents very well. My father has been very successful in life, and since I studied finance in college, he chose me to manage his riches. Technically I'm a financial advisor...to my father."

"Wow. I'd never have guessed."

"Good. I grew up very blessed, but I had friends who worked hard to keep my head screwed on properly. I try to stay that way, successfully, I hope."

"I suppose that if you have a lot of money, you could mail in a check to the shelter and be very content with that. You haven't done that. You work there, and you're involved, and it doesn't take a sociology professor to see that they all love you there...the staff and the clients."

"Thanks. I hope so. I do love working there and not only helping the people but getting to know them as well. I think most of them trust me." He reached across the table and took my hand. "I'm not rich by a long shot. Dad pays me a nice salary, but he tells me not to get greedy. It will all be mine eventually, so I have to be patient."

"Does your dad live around here?"

"No, he's in California. I do all the work remotely and only see him once or twice a year these days. We probably get along much better that way."

The way he said that made me chuckle. I'd heard that it was often very difficult to work with your family, and maybe that was the case with Grant and his father.

Finally, we headed for the car and home.

"How about I stop at your apartment, and we can just talk for a while? I'm finding I really enjoy sharing with you."

That wasn't part of my plan for our first date, but I hurriedly changed the plan and agreed.

It was late, but traffic seemed unusually heavy for that hour. We were on a four-lane street with a divider in the center when a car whizzed by us, cut into the other lane, back into ours, and then to the other again.

"Idiot," Grant snarled.

For some reason, the other lane slowed drastically, and we passed the weaving car, Grant looking at him and, I'm sure, glaring more than just looking. When the other lane sped up, there was a gap between us and the car in front of us which was quickly filled by the weaver who nearly clipped Grant's fender."

"Stupid bastard," he screamed while slamming his fist against the steering wheel. Startled, cold chills ran down my spine. It was long moments before Grant glanced over at me, his face still full of anger. It immediately softened.

I didn't say anything, and neither did he. He parked, and we went inside. When the elevator stopped at the fifth floor, I stepped outside.

"Thanks for the dinner, Grant. It was delicious, but maybe we should each go to our own apartments for the evening."

He looked at me, pursed his lips, and said, "Okay. I'll talk to you later," and stepped back into the elevator.

The doors closed, and I headed to my apartment, nervous and upset. I was tempted to head to the roof for a little thinking when my phone rang. It was Grant.

"Hello, Grant."

"Julie, I'm sorry."

"I am too, Grant."

"Listen, when that elevator door closed, the emptiness I felt was like nothing I've ever felt or experienced before."

There was a long pause, but I didn't say anything.

"It will never happen again."

"Grant, that's something that I don't think any of us could hold to. It just, well, it frightened me."

"And, based on what you've seen of me in the past, it well should have. I don't want to frighten you again, because already, you're too precious to me to think of driving you away like that. This may sound silly and cliché, but I'm going to learn to count to ten if you know what I mean."

"What you've said sounds very nice to my ears."

"I hope so."

"How about another change of plans?"

"Which would be?"

"I'm a little lonely here after the great night we had at Colombo's."

"Listen for the knock on your door."

The phone went dead.

It was several minutes before I heard the knock. I opened the door.

"The elevator took forever to get to the eighth floor, so I just hummed 'That's All I Ask of You."

I couldn't stop myself from giving him a hug...and I received a very nice hug in return. If I was the vehicle that would keep Grant's anger under control, so much the better. I hated it when it appeared--it changed him drastically. With it under control, he was a wonderful guy.

I popped corn, Grant melted the butter, and we gorged on a delicious but high-calorie treat. We each had two glasses of wine, enough to give us a comfortable buzz but not enough to cause a problem.

At midnight he stood. I stood with him.

"Tomorrow is Saturday, but I've made some plans and have to get up early."

"I don't have any plans," I heard myself saying.

"Maybe we should practice some songs. The first rehearsal is Wednesday," he said, a big smile filling his face. "I have the CD, so we could sing along with the good guys."

I rose to my tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss.

"Deal. I'll wait to hear."

"Julie," he said softly.

I waved and gently closed my door.

◇-◇-◇-◇

We practiced the songs in Grant's apartment, singing duets and then quartets with the CD. It sounded wonderful, and on Wednesday night, at the official rehearsal, as we sang together, it was magical, the way he looked at me and the way his voice and the words affected me. The director could only smile and compliment us on the way we blended and the full sound we achieved.

We had several more dates that involved dinner, movies, and dancing at a local club. The kissing was no longer done with me on tiptoes. We spent a lot of time in each other's apartments, watching movies, sipping wine, and just talking, finding out about each other. It was fun and rewarding.

There were a few times that I saw Grant's jaws clench, but there was no outburst. It was like he was doing what he'd said he'd do--counting to ten. He told me one evening that, before, it seemed like the anger was an important part of his life, and he almost enjoyed it. Now that I was there, his life was content and filled with sharing with me, and the anger didn't belong there any longer.

I think that brought tears to my eyes...and made me realize that I was falling in love with him.

We had three performances scheduled for the big weekend. There were Friday and Saturday evenings and a matinee on Sunday. The Friday evening performance was about ninety percent full. Saturday evening was a full house, and Sunday was full, with many people being turned away. The director said that, after Friday evening, the phones were ringing constantly with people trying to get tickets. The people providing the food for the dinner theater were very accommodating and were able to feed everyone.

I'd sung in lots of musicals and gotten involved with the music and the part. Singing just excerpts from Phantom was different, but singing with Grant had me feeling like I was actually Christine and was in love with the half-masked character singing to me and with me.

On the Tuesday after the Sunday performance, I received a call from the director. He said that he'd had so many requests for tickets that he'd like to schedule a single performance for the Saturday after next. This would not be a dinner theater, and he would share the ticket sales fifty-fifty with Grant and me.