The Two-Step Symphony

Chris would despise him for doing it, to be sure, but that was exactly why he was doing it that way. And his reasoning wasn't that far-fetched. If he waited to tell her he was leaving, they would certainly part amicably, and in a week or a month either he would find an excuse to come back to New York—it would have to really be contrived—or she would call and say she was going on one of her trips and ask him to meet her, and he would willingly comply and the whole thing would start all over again.

This way, Chris would hate him, and it would be over forever. Perhaps it wouldn't make much sense to anyone but him, but that's what he was going to do.

* * *

After a month of ranching in Colorado, Brick Henry came to a frightening realization: he didn't like it as much as he thought he was going to. The fact was, he missed being with his friends on the road, or just being with them. To sneak a week or two between tours and spend the time at the ranch was a treat, like a vacation. But to live here all the time was getting boring.

Of course, he missed Chris. Some days he thought of her only once. But knowing that he'd had a chance, tried and it hadn't worked made it easier to endure this time. He also realized that part of his sudden urge to be with people was due, in part, to her. In fact, Brick's experience with her had given him a somewhat different view of life than what he had perceived. There was a completely different world out there.

That still meant he wasn't ready for New York, the symphony, opera and ballet. But he was ready to expand his horizons, perhaps visit more parts of the country he had never been to. Even though most of those places were east of the Mississippi River.

Of course, he wondered if he could now make it with Chris given this new attitude. But he knew that their differences were more than just cultural. A relationship between them would survive only if they both gave, and neither was willing to give enough. If only there was a place in which they could co-exist, some place that offered something for both of them. Well, since he knew of no such place, thinking of it was only self-torture.

The first step was to get back to work. Music work. Brick called Tex Tyler to see if the promoter/producer could get him some studio work. Tyler couldn't offer anything in Texas, but as a favor to Billy Roy Jackson (a former country star who had given up performing to go into record producing, and who Brick knew fairly well) he'd bought a small percentage of a studio Jackson was trying to get going in his home town of Tampa, Florida. If Brick didn't mind spending a few weeks in Florida, Tyler was sure he could get him some work. Jackson had a few small name performers booked in, but they weren't all country, some were pop. Brick readily agreed.

* * *

What a wonderful decision it turned out to be. The studio was unbelievably modern with many of the latest pieces of recording equipment. Too often, people attempted to start a studio on a low budget with used, antiquated equipment. The result was that the right kind of talent was not attracted, and you ended up recording a multitude of people who had no business being recorded, and whose recordings never made it past the studio. Jackson, on the other hand, had wisely extended himself financially to get good equipment.

In addition, because Jackson hadn't completely staffed his studio, Brick was willingly doing double duty and was getting a taste of engineering and mixing.

If that was all, it would have been enough. But Brick was surprised that he actually liked the Tampa/St. Petersburg area. It was spread out, and he could get out of town and into rural areas in just a few minutes. There were no mountains, but it was rolling countryside. Then there was the beach. Brick had been to beaches maybe three times in his entire life. Some of the people who worked at the studio frequented the beach and one had a place near the Gulf. He invited his coworkers there on the weekends. The bottom line was that Brick found he liked the beach very much.

Things were going so well that Brick decided to discuss with Billy Roy Jackson the possibility of buying a piece of the studio. They got along well together, and more importantly, they saw eye to eye on the business end of the studio. Brick's idea was to sell the ranch, move to Tampa and invest the money in the studio. Jackson could use the capital to pay off some of the mortgage on the studio, as well as purchase some additional state-of-the-art equipment.

Over beers at a waterfront bar, Brick and Billy Roy discussed Brick's proposal. Ironically, Jackson had been considering taking on a partner but had no idea who. His only prospect was to see if Tex Tyler was interested in a bigger piece than his ten percent. His hesitancy in making the offer to Tyler was that he really didn't want an out-of-town partner. Neither did he want a local perfect stranger. He hadn't considered Brick because he didn't think Brick was interested in moving. But Jackson now considered this the best possible scenario.

Surprisingly, the entire transaction took place in a very short amount of time. Brick returned to Colorado for a few days to put the ranch on the market, and he was barely back in Tampa before it sold.

Strangely enough, on the evening of the signing of the papers which made Brick an equal partner in the studio, instead of experiencing overwhelming feelings of elation over the positive new direction of his life, he felt somewhat apathetic, lost within himself. It wasn't that he was sorry about what he was doing. It simply wasn't as fulfilling as it should be.

From his growing enjoyment of the beach, he had come to find that watching the waves roll in was very relaxing and had a calming effect on him. He found himself heading for one of his new favorite watering holes on St. Pete beach. He took a seat at an outside table to stare at the water. Having only had a couple of beers at the studio party, he downed his first beer rather quickly, and ordered another.

Maybe it was one too many because he thought he was seeing things. Several tables down was a woman sitting all alone, and damned if she didn't look like Chris. Surely his eyes must be playing tricks on him. Still, he found himself getting up and heading in her direction.

She must have sensed him coming because she turned with a frown. "Brick? What are you doing here?"

"Chris? Is it really you?" He wasn't hallucinating.

"Well, of course, it's me," she responded with slight irritation. "What are you doing here?"

"Believe it or not, I've taken a liking to the beach."

"No, I meant what are you doing in Tampa/St. Pete?"

If the tone of her voice was any indication, Brick's scheme of leaving New York without telling Chris so she would be angry with him, and thus permanently end their relationship, had worked.

"I live here now."

"You? Here?"

"Yeah. I sold the ranch and bought a piece of a recording studio here."

Chris shrugged. "Well, good luck and good-bye." There was absolutely no congeniality in her voice.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Brick said quickly to prevent her from walking off.

"It's not worth anything."

"Any chance I could buy you a drink and explain?"

"None whatsoever. I'm not interested in you or anything you have to say. And to show you just how serious I am, I'm here because I was offered a job to be the managing director of the Florida Orchestra here in Tampa. It's a great offer and an even greater opportunity. And if you like Tampa enough to have moved here, imagine what we could have had together. But I don't even want to be in the same state as you. So, I think I'm going to turn this wonderful job down. And I want you to live here knowing that I did it because of you!" With that she headed off down the beach.

Naturally, he went after her. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere that is away from you!" She walked quickly, but with difficulty in the sand. When she neared the water, she halted and turned around abruptly, assuming he had followed. "No. You know what? It would be very foolish of me to pass up a wonderful opportunity because of you. To do that would be a concession of what you did to me. So, I'm going to take the job in spite of you."

"Why tell me that?" Brick asked with a shrug. "If you want to have nothing more to do with me, why make the effort? Why does it matter that I know?"

"Because I want you to know how much I despise you for messing up my life. I despise you for making me fall in love with you. I despise you for making me change the way I feel about myself, my friends and my home. Before I met you, I would never have even considered leaving New York. Now, I just don't want to live there anymore. But most of all, I despise you for leaving me; because I've never fallen in love another man the way I have with you."

"You just don't see it, do you?"

"See what?" Chris's retort was abrupt.

"That the reason I left you in New York was just because I love you so much."

"Because you love me? Is that another of your peculiar Texas ways?"

"I overheard your friends grilling you in the lounge the night of the reception."

"You did?" She hadn't expected that, and it slowed her down.

"Yes. I guess what they said made more of an impression on me than it did you. By that night, I didn't like New York any better than when I arrived. I was forcing myself to stay because of you. At least, I made the effort. How long do you think it would have been before the novelty of our relationship wore off and we started driving each other apart? And how much misery would we have put each other through before sensibly ending it? And the problem would have been the same if you'd come to live in Colorado. Well, because I love you so much, I decided to spare you that agony and leave you right then and there without saying a word because I knew you would hate me, and it would be over between us and we could go on with our lives. My only consolation now is knowing you only despise me instead of hating me."

"That was a very eloquent speech, Mr. Henry. But it doesn't make it all better." Her voice was still laced with bitterness.

Brick shrugged. "It wasn't supposed to. You gave me your reasoning; I gave you mine."

"But now that we're both here, you want me back, don't you?"

He was silent.

"Say it."

"What good would it do me to say that? You've obviously already made up your mind that that's not what you want—even though you still love me."

"Oh, you think I still love you?"

"Didn't you just say a moment ago that you've never fallen in love with a man the way you have with me?"

"You're going to argue grammar with me?"

"Okay. You want the truth? Do I want you back? You goddamned right I do. But I've hurt you twice already and I don't want to do it again. So, I'm afraid to ask you to take me back, because I only want that if you truly do. And you know what? I think that's what you want too, but you don't want to admit it or don't want to give me the satisfaction of knowing it . . . or maybe you want me to beg you to take me back. But I'm not going to do that because you have to be the one to decide that you want us back together. Because only then will it be what you really want."

Suddenly, there was a loud clap of thunder followed by the skies illuminating over the water from lightning. It interrupted Brick's and Chris's discussion. A minute later, the slapping sound of rain on the water could be heard, and it quickly became louder as it neared. And then, the skies fell, instantly drenching the two. Brick grabbed Chris's hand and pulled her back to the bar. Several other people had sought refuge under their covered areas.

"Where are you staying?" Brick asked.

"At the Hilton downtown."

"What are you doing way out here?"

"I wanted to go to a place on the beach."

"How did you get here?"

"Taxi."

Thinking clearly, Brick pulled out his phone and checked the weather forecast. This storm was predicted to last most of the night. "Come on," he said.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Out of this weather."

"You expect me to just go with you?"

"Get over it."

But she didn't resist when he took her hand again and led her through the restaurant to the lobby of the resort hotel that it was a part of.

When he reached the front desk, Chris said, "You're getting us a hotel room?"

"I'm getting us each a room."

However, the front desk clerk said, "I'm sorry, sir, we only have one single room left."

"Single?"

"Yes, sir. One queen-size bed."

"Why do we need a room?" Chris wanted to know.

"This is a bad storm," Brick reported. "It's gonna last all night. We can't go anywhere."

"Do you want the room, sir?" The desk clerk asked.

Brick turned to Chris with a questioning look.

With a huff, she merely nodded. And when they entered the room five minutes later she said, "I can't believe another rain storm has forced us into a situation like this again."

"At least the accommodations are better," Brick quipped.

"You just love this, don't you?"

"Yes. I love any time I can spend with you."

"I'm going to take a shower." Chris went into the bathroom. Brick smirked when he heard the door lock.

He took a seat on a small sofa in a corner of the room and relaxed while waiting.

About twenty minutes later, Chris emerged from the bathroom in a hotel terrycloth robe. Somehow, she looked as sexy as anything. She walked to the bed, propped pillows against the headboard and sat against them with her legs stretched out. "Are we just going to sit here and stare at each other?"

"What would you like to do?"

"Have a drink."

"What would you like?"

"White wine."

"Be right back." Brick left the room and walked quickly to the hotel bar, bought a bottle of chilled white wine and a couple of beers. He was back in less than ten minutes. Chris had not moved, but rather was doing something on her phone. He poured her wine, went to take a quick shower himself, returned in a hotel robe also, opened a beer for himself and sat back on the sofa.

Chris put her phone down, looking pensive. The shower had calmed her down. "I'm sorry you had to overhear my friends in that bar."

Brick shrugged. "I guess they're entitled to their opinion. The question is, if they're really your friends, why would they tell you that instead of just supporting you?"

"That's a good question. I don't know. But it did actually become quite difficult to continue to socialize with them and that served to make the decision to move here a little easier."

"I still can't believe you did."

"I was getting a little tired of all the travel," Chris admitted. "I started looking around for other opportunities. There was nothing really close to home. Took me a while to convince myself to look beyond New York. Still not a hundred percent sure about it."

"Because I'm here?"

Chris smiled for the first time. "Well, there is now that." But she said it lightheartedly. "Actually, I've never done this type of work before, so I'm a bit nervous about it."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"Thanks," she said, still smiling. "What's your story?"

"You really want to know?" Brick asked, surprised she posed the question.

"Well, I'm stuck here with you. Might as well talk about something." Now, Chris chuckled, seeming to be loosening up more. "Seriously, I'm surprised you left Colorado. I guess if I thought if you ever did, you'd go back to Texas."

Brick noticed that with her loosening up and crossing and uncrossing her legs, the belt on her robe was ever so slowly coming undone and the robe itself was separating revealing more cleavage and exposing more leg. If she noticed, she did nothing about it. He wondered if it was the wine or a sign of hope. "After my time in New York, like you, my whole outlook changed. I lost interest in ranching and missed the music, but I didn't want to go back on the road. Tex Tyler put me in touch with Billy Roy Jackson here in Tampa to do some studio work. I liked it here, he was looking for a partner, so I sold the ranch and bought half of the recording studio. We actually signed the papers today."

And now, they were back to the point of realizing that they were both now living here. Neither really knew what to say. The fact that they had lasted this long together was amazing in itself given the warmth with which she had greeted him when they connected earlier.

Finally, Chris noted, "Sounds like it's still storming outside."

Brick tilted his head upward to concentrate on listening. "Yep. Sure does."

"I guess we need to discuss sleeping arrangements," she brought up hesitantly.

"You've got the bed. I'll stay on this sofa."

"Are you sure?"

"Not much else we can do." Brick got up to look for a blanket, but he couldn't find one. "Can I at least have a pillow?"

After a moment's thought, Chris said, "Aw, hell, it's a big bed, you can have the other side."

"Are you sure? That's awfully considerate of you since—"

"Better get in before I come to my senses."

But Chris never did come to her senses. An hour later, with Brick snoring softly next to her, not loud enough to have awakened her because she was already awake, but it wouldn't have even if she'd been sleeping, she realized that what she had fallen in love with was a gentle cowboy with cowboy ways. And part of those cowboy ways included acting in a manner that was consistent with a rural kind of thinking, and while that might be inconsistent with her station in life, it was normal and acceptable to his kind.

She further realized that if she wanted a relationship with him, she would have to accept him as he was and not expect him to conform to her kind of propriety.

Turning on her side slightly toward him, in the dim light of the room, she could see that his robe had loosened. Nothing was exposed, but she knew what was underneath: the tool that had given her immense pleasure. She shook her head. No. She wasn't going to give in. Still, she involuntarily turned more on her side to face him. Her movement caused him to roll over onto his other side facing away from her. She could feel the magnetism of his body. It wanted to draw her nearer. Wanting to resist was difficult. She hadn't had sex since the last time with him. There had been other opportunities, but she knew it wouldn't have been the same.

Chris inched closer to Brick almost spooning, but not actually touching. Lying there for a minute, it was all she could do not to reach around and grab him. Then it occurred to her that she had been less than gracious to him, and even though he said he wanted her back, unless she agreed, he might not want to do anything with her. There was a daunting thought.

Brick's legs were bent. Chris couldn't help extending her leg and resting it on his ankle. He didn't move. She raised her upper body, leaning on her elbow and forearm and looked over him. She rubbed the back of her hand gently down his side about several inches. He moved slightly but didn't change position. Then he turned very slightly toward her but was still mostly facing away. However, she quickly laid back down to see what he did next.

When Brick was still again, Chris moved her face in close to his neck, but again, not touching. She could smell the hotel soap on his skin. It was actually rather pleasant. She placed her hand on his hip, and that resulted in more slight movement, which had her hurriedly lying back down and facing away from him. She turned enough to look back at him.