Hit'n Those Notes Ch. 15

"Nice... When's your last day at the Grand Cayman?"

"Officially it was yesterday, but I'm being paid through this weekend for comp time. I need to go back and arrange to have my townhouse cleaned. I'm going to have to break my lease."

"That sucks. Is this the first time you've been in town," I asked.

"I drove a U-Haul out here last weekend, put stuff in storage, hung with my mom, did some orientation stuff here, and flew back late Sunday."

He'd said a lot of stuff - storage, lease breaking, blah, blah, blah - but all I could wonder was if I was a part of his decision to take the job. Did he think about stopping by last week to see me? Don't jump ahead!

"You're probably wondering why I took the job," he said when I wasn't moving the conversation forward.

"That thought might have crossed my mind," I felt flush because he'd read my mind or I was wearing that question on my sleeve. Grrr!

"Well, it's a step toward my goal of becoming a GM one day - that trajectory thing," he said, smiling. "And I worry about my mom being alone out here also... I told you my dad passed four years ago, didn't I?"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, it was a pretty rough time for both of us. He set her up nicely, though - insurance, the house paid off, and the military took care of a lot of the burial worries. I think she considered moving back to Germany shortly after he died; her side of the family is there. The only reason she probably didn't was because of me. So, given the chance to come back to San Diego, it was an easy choice."

Family and career advancement, great reasons to relocate to San Diego. I raised my glass, "Congratulations! I'm really happy for you, Blake. I'll bet your mom is happy also."

"Thank you... She is. There is another reason for coming home; it's personal, though," he said, a serious look now on his face.

"Are you going to share that with me," I asked, with a strange flutter in my stomach and my heart beating a little quicker upon hearing there was more to his relocation decision.

"Come on, Brea, you know why... Do I need to spell it out?"

I was having trouble controlling my breathing. I felt warm, flushed, and had a tingly feeling in my toes.

"Sure... Why not 'spell it out'," I said nervously, barely able to control my over revving mind.

"Okay, well... You certainly played a part in the decision to come back to San Diego. I just... Well, I'm hoping you'll give me a chance to see if... Like, if we can figure out if there's something between us," he replied nervously for the first time since we'd been reunited tonight.

"What makes you think I haven't moved on or I'm not dating someone?"

It took every ounce of control I had to ask that without cracking a smile. I was staring at him, purposely letting him squirm a little. Inside, though, I was soaring, anxious, fearful, and about to explode.

"I... Crap, I hope you aren't seeing someone," he said, surprised by my question.

"I'm not..." The panicky feeling I had when this conversation switched to 'us' was growing, and I tried to refocus and remain calm. Drink some of your drink; it might calm your nerves or at least dull them a little.

"Oh, you... You're messing with me," he said with a little nervous chuckle, but looking relieved.

"Maybe a little," I said, shifting in my seat and taking another large swallow of my drink. OMG! Quit fidgeting!

"So... I, like, need to just ask you out then," he asked, unsure of how this was going to work.

"That would be a good start..." That tingle in my toes was now numbness in my feet, and my chest felt tight. Relax... Breathe... "Is my being Trans something that worries you?"

"No, but... Yeah, maybe a little," he admitted.

He didn't seem to struggle with that answer, so he'd thought about it, about who I was becoming and where I'd started.

"You do understand what someone who is Tran is doing, right? You've given this part of dating me at least a little thought?"

"Sure, I have given it some thought."

"Are you secure in your manhood, understand your gender," I asked, trying to remain calm, but my heart was thumping so wildly in my chest I felt like I was hyperventilating. Slow down...

"Yes," he replied, looking confused.

"You understand I was born male, but my body was not in alignment with my soul, my heart, or my mind... My choice is not a mental disorder or whatever some crackpot might say."

"I know that much, Brea... I understand being Trans at a high level, and I don't think you're crazy or anything like that."

"And none of that gives you pause," I asked. The answer he was about to give me would speak volumes.

"No. Should it?" he asked, concerned.

"I would hope not, but right now, dating me isn't going to be like all the other women you've been with," I said, hoping the relief in my voice showed through and he understood what he was really getting into.

"Look, I'm physically and cerebrally attracted to you... That first night we met, I knew I wanted to get to know you. I knew you were Trans then, and that's honestly not a hang-up for me. In Vegas, I just couldn't get a read on whether you were interested in me, and I handled that all wrong. Not a confidence-building moment for you, I'm sure, but I'm really more than I showed."

I could feel that anxious roiling feeling in my stomach, and I was having trouble keeping my focus on what the conversation had just revealed. This guy was a unicorn, one in a million, a non-fetish freak who wanted to be with me for me. WTH! What do I do now?

"Brea... Are you okay?"

I needed to stay composed. I would kill for just one minute to process this more.

"A lot of people aren't happy with the idea of someone being Trans. I'm a work in progress, Blake; you need to know that up front. You get that, right," I asked nervously, anticipating his recoiling in disgust and maybe not considering where I was in my transition.

"You don't need to spell it out, Brea... I'm not going to say this isn't going to be different for me, but I'm willing - no I want to get to know you and see what we can make work. We can go as slow as necessary, respect each other's needs and wants, and see what becomes of it," he said, trying to reassure me.

"I'm not going to lie about who I am or how I became who I am... I'm certainly not militant about that, but I'm not going to shy away from any of my Trans roots. Is that going to be a problem?"

Shit! I sound like I was trying to scare him away! I hope he knows that's not what I'm...

"Not for me, and if someone else has a problem with that, then it's on them. If we can figure out 'us', then what others think is their problem, not ours," he replied, looking overly serious.

"Even if that person is your mom," I asked, expecting him to take a step back and reverse course.

"My mom already knows Brea... Both her brothers are gay and happily married, so she's fairly open-minded. Not so much about the ex-President, but LGBTQ+ stuff - you'll find her pretty supportive. Besides, she liked you on the phone that time you called - I don't know what you girls talked about, but she picked up on something," he said, smiling.

"Really? I barely said thirty words to her."

"Yeah, I know, but you must have a pretty strong aura or something, because she is already digging you. So, Breanna Calloway... Would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow night with me?"

"I would, but I'm closing tomorrow night, and if we have any late sales, I might not get out of there until 9," I said, worried work was going to screw up or get in the way of our first official date.

"That's fine, how about I come get you after work? Just text me to let me know when you're close to getting off."

"Okay... That could be any time between 8 and 9, though," I said, still sounding worried.

"It's fine, Brea; I'm not up to anything all day... Well, actually, I'm starting to look for a house out here. Any chance you'd be willing to help with that tomorrow," he asked.

"I guess, if we could do that in the morning, but I have to be at work by noon," I replied, trying hard to keep the complaining, worry, or whatever out of my voice. "I'm off Sunday... What time do you leave to go back to Vegas?"

OMG! OMG! We're making plans, and it's so, so normal... How is this even possible? Am I dreaming? In a comma?

"Think my flight is around 8:00 PM or something like that... We could do a little Saturday morning, then Sunday if that works. I could pick you up at your place, or," he paused to curb his enthusiasm, "We can talk about this tomorrow night. I'm not trying to, but I'm trying to fill your dance card," he chuckled.

"Yeah, sure... That would work... Saturday morning and Sunday." All I could think about was that I needed to clean my apartment. OMG! This is moving so fast... Dance card? What the hell is that?

"Sweet," he said, but it looked like he had something else on his mind.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm really happy you're willing to give me another chance, Brea. I promise I won't be such a dork this time."

"Good, I'm... I'm happy too, and I'm not going to let you be a dork. I don't have time for dorks," I replied with a big smile. I lifted my drink and said, "To second chances..."

He lifted his in kind, "To second chances..."

After a moment of silence, I blurted out, "So, what is it you're going to do for this place?"

"Interesting question," he began.

"Why," I asked, interrupting him. Shit, I need to stop doing that...

"Well, because this bar is going to be one of my responsibilities, and I had an idea that involves you," he said, smiling.

"I have a job, Blake; I don't do bartending or serving."

"Not what I had in mind..."

"Okay, what do you want me for," I asked, not really thinking about how that might have sounded.

"I...," he began.

"Keep it clean, Mr. Schultz," I said playfully.

He chuckled, "Yes... Anyway," he started again, still trying to get past my inference about possible adult-rated activities. "We've got dueling pianos; I'd like to introduce dueling singers to compliment them... What do you think?"

Interesting, that might be something unique for this area... "I'm flattered, but I don't... I'm not sure I'm good enough for something like that."

"Seriously," he complained, "You're more than good enough, Brea. What if I told you I've got a really amazing pianist onboard, but he's only in if you are?"

Huh? Bill?

"You talked to Bill," I asked, surprised.

"Yup, and he's only in if you are. We can pay you five hundred a night, standard performer rate here in San Diego, for two one-hour sets per night, a thirty-minute break in between, comp'd drinks and food," he rattled off the details quickly and excitedly.

Bill was in? We were going to have a serious talk the next time I saw him!

"I'm, I... I don't want to sing full-time, Blake. I have a job I really like, and singing is just... It's just something I do for fun."

"Prefect... I'm looking to implement this show on Wednesdays to begin with, and if it's a hit, I'll expand it. I talked to Gary about recruiting some of his amateur talent, and as long as we're not conflicting on dates, he said he wouldn't mind me poaching a few singers from the showcase."

"Okay... I'm not sure how this is going to look, but it certainly sounds interesting. I mean, if Bill is in... Well, I guess I am," I replied more tentatively than I intended.

"Yes! That's awesome! I think you're going to be a huge draw once word gets out. Bill's already planning for the first show," he said, obviously excited that I was onboard.

"When is this first show," I asked, concerned.

"I'm hoping to get it approved and running in about three weeks, a month's time max."

Okay, big sigh of relief there! William and I were going to have a serious conversation about the events of the last couple weeks. That sneak!

Friday, May 2nd, 11:13 p.m.

Our conversations flowed so easily, and the same can be said of how easily the drinks went down. I didn't finish my third Renaldo Reggiano Legionnaires rum drink before we left the bar. I chuckled, thinking I still didn't know what that rum Blake had ordered me was called.

"What's so funny," Blake asked, pulling into my apartment complex.

"Nothing... Just trying to remember that rum's name," I said, stifling my giggles as best I could.

"Ron Carupano Legendario," he said.

He had said that all Spanish-speaking cute like and I couldn't help but smile. I began to focus on the need to roll his tongue to pronounce the name properly, but quickly ditched that train of thought to direct him where to park. Once parked we were sitting in a silent car. Awkward!

"You're not mad at me for tonight," he asked.

"No. I guess I can forgive you, if you can forgive me for being bitchy," I said meekly.

"I deserved a little grief from you; I'm just happy we're where we're at... Can I walk you to your door?"

I am having all kinds of adult-rated thoughts about you right now, Mr. Schultz. A towel scene crossed my mind, rolling Spanish tongue, and then I thought I'd better slow my roll. Of course, you can walk me to my door, but... But I'm not inviting you in - though I'm tipsy enough to know if you pressed, I might probably let...

"Okay," I blurted out, not trying to over think the situation.

Friday, May 2nd, 11:17 p.m.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Just text me about thirty minutes from when you think you'll be off," Blake said when we reached the door to my apartment.

He smelled so sexy and amazing. I leaned back against the door. Wow, that feels good. Are you going to kiss me? Hello?! I reached out and took his hand.

"I'm really happy you're coming to San Diego, Blake."

That gesture must have been all the coaxing he needed. He stepped closer, staring into my eyes. He put a hand on my chin, and kissed me tenderly. With a little tongue and soft, soft lips, I could sense his desire. I was in...

"I'll see you tomorrow night, Ms. Calloway," he said after breaking the kiss but not pulling away very far.

"Yes, you will..." I said before pulling him in for another kiss.

FIN (The End?)

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Author's Note: Don't be afraid to rate this story if it's doing anything for you (you don't have to have an account to do so, and there are no prizes for most 'Rates'). If you comment, I will reply directly to you (if you have an account) or in the comments if you're anonymous, so let's chat...

If there are problems or you have criticisms you'd like to share privately, feel free to message me; I'd love to address them if I can.

I'm trying to grow as a storyteller; I'm far from perfect, so any help is much appreciated. Thanks for reading...

Rachel M. Moore

PS: So, this was the last planned chapter. I know I said about 12 chapters in total - but I got wordy -- sorry. I began a stand-alone addition to this story after completing it. If there's interest, I might dust it off and try to finish that, post it. It would be a look at Brea and Blake a few years down the road. Sometimes I think stories endings should be left up end user to see into the future. IDK... Thoughts? Thanks! R