Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [34]
“I didn’t know until the last minute.”
“Well, you could have at least texted me a maybe. I didn’t hear a peep from you.”
“Well, that’s because I didn’t hear a peep from you.”
“What are you talking about?” Gabe said. “I asked you to be my friend on Facebook.”
“And I accepted.”
“But you didn’t write back.”
“The boy writes first.”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Since when is that the rule?”
“I dunno. But it is the rule.”
“You know I came to Coffee Bean looking for you.”
“You did not.”
“I did so.” Gabe was offended. “I came on Tuesday and Thursday.”
Yasmine said, “I came on Monday and Wednesday.”
“Ooh, psych!” He took her hand and started running. “If you would have texted me, I would have met you. I mean I can’t exactly call you.”
“Why on earth would I assume that you’d want to meet me?”
“Why wouldn’t you assume it? I asked you to the concert.”
“I thought you were just being nice. You said it wasn’t a date.”
He stopped and grinned. “I lied.”
They arrived just as the lights were dimming . . . again. The first half of the concert was fine, but he was constantly aware of Yasmine’s presence, her hand in his, setting off motion below his waist. It wasn’t until Paul took the stage that Gabe was finally able to relax and lose himself in the music. When the concert was finally over and the lights came up, Gabe was calmer.
“He did a good job.”
“You approve?”
“I do.” He turned to her. “What’d you think?”
“I really enjoyed the piece. I think I like Saint-Saëns. He composes with a common theme or voice or whatever you call it. He’s not all over the place like some composers.”
“Good call.” Gabe eyed her face and was dying to kiss her, but he didn’t want to get aroused. It would be a big faux pas to greet Paul with a woody. “I gotta go show my face. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
He led her backstage where Paul was talking to a few of his classmates and a young woman named Anna Benton who Gabe knew well from previous piano competitions. Anna was eighteen with long blond hair, bright blue eyes, and legs that wouldn’t quit. As usual, she was blabbing a mile a minute to whoever was listening. Paul and Gabe exchanged a guy hug.
“Excellente!”
“Yeah, it worked out.”
“Did a great job.”
Paul nodded. “Not bad. Thanks for coming.”
“Anytime.” Yasmine was hiding behind his back. Gabe pushed her forward. “This is my friend, Yasmine.”
“Hi, there,” Paul said.
“You were terrific,” Yasmine whispered.
Anna butted in and gave Gabe a bear hug along with a kiss on the mouth. “Well, hello there, Whitman, have you been living in a cave?”
“It hasn’t been that long—”
“You weren’t at Atlanta, you weren’t at Paris, you weren’t at Brussels . . . were you at Chicago? No, you weren’t at Chicago either.”
“I had a few issues last year,” Gabe said. “I’m coming to Budapest.”
“For Liszt in Junior competition?”
“Yes, Liszt; no to Junior. I’m Adult now.”
“You’re fifteen? Fuck!” She glared at him. “When the fuck did you turn fifteen?”
“Like seven months ag—”
“Fuck!” Anna said. “Shit! You had to choose Budapest to turn fifteen? Fuck!”
“First you yell at me for not coming, and then when I say I’m coming—”
“Yeah, you’re going against me. Fuck!”
“Maybe I’ll choke.”
“Why would you choke? You never choke. You’re the antichoke. And now that you’re working with Nicholas Mark, you must be really good.”
“He is really good,” Paul told her.
“Well, that’s just terrific! Just terrific! Fuck!”
“I love you, too, Anna.” Again, Yasmine was ducking behind him. Gabe edged her out until she was standing by his side. “This is my friend, Yasmine.”
“Hi.” She gave Yasmine a once-over and returned her eyes to Gabe. “It’s not that I don’t love you, Gabriel. I do love you. But I hate you. Fuck!”
Paul said, “You have time for dinner, Whitman?”
Gabe looked at Yasmine who seemed terribly out of place. He knew the feeling. “Nah, I’ve got some shit I’ve gotta do for Nick.”
“Nick the prick.”
“Not as big a prick as you are,” Anna said to Gabe.