Both had come by my apartment at separate times, wondering if he’d been with me working on a song. Neither wanted to consider that the night he missed being with them, he was with some third woman.
They’d visited at different times. His wife appeared at my door first, blonde hair and blue eyes, drowning in diamonds and neglect. She talked in a whisper as if her heart were empty and echoing the sound. His mistress showed up months later, red curls to her behind, talking about the new purse she’d bought with the platinum card Ru had given her. I’d thought she was the happiest of the two, but after ten minutes, she’d shifted into a tsunami of sadness—wailing about how she was aging, crying about Ru not wanting her to have kids, and spilling out all her resentment of not becoming a singer herself.
I should’ve told Ru that they’d come by, but I didn’t. For one thing, besides him and my vocal coach, those two had been my only visitors. And secondly, they provided the inspiration to many of my songs. They helped me tap into the deep emotion of love and desperation.
Ru threw away the old flowers. “Are you hanging with any friends tonight?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I would need friends here to hang with them.”
He stared at me with a frown.
“Don’t worry. I’m working on it, Ru.”
“Life changes fast in your twenties. Don’t let it all slip away.” He took the moldy vase to my sink and cleaned it out. “I’ll be forty in several years. That shit is freaking me out.”
“I’m sure there are fun times in your thirties, forties, and so on.”
“Yes, but many spend those years catching up to the ones that did it in their twenties.”
“Did what?”
“Lived.” He grabbed some paper towel and dried the inside of the vase. “You have to get out more. Date. There’s a new act playing around the corner tonight. A group of rappers. I heard they’re hot.”
“I’m not dating rappers. I’ve heard enough about them.”
“No. I want you to come with me. It would be good for you to go out.”
“I’m chilling and it's cold outside. You’re a city boy. My southern blood can’t deal with this snow.”
Pausing from the vase, he gave me a fake pout and did a Ru signature look with his eyes. “You’re going to let me go there by myself and sit in that club all alone? All by myself?”
“You have people that you can call.”
Two women, in fact.
Done with cleaning the vase, he stacked the fresh bouquet of roses into the vase and set it on my table. “It’s just ten minutes to the club. We go, we listen to some music, have some drinks. I’ll have you home by ten.”
“No, thank you.” I realized that his visit was going to be longer than usual, so I yanked the sheets, comforter, and pillow off my couch so he could sit down.
He arched his eyebrows. “You’re still sleeping in your living room?”
“My couch is comfortable.” I dropped the pillows and comforter in a pile next to my bookshelf. “What’s up? Why did you come by?”
He sat down on the couch. “I’m checking up on you and wanted to bring the present.”
“Again, I’m so sorry I didn’t get you one.”
“That’s fine. I doubt you’ve left this apartment this fall.”
I grabbed some of the scattered sheets of music and formed them in a pile. I was sure Ru thought I was on the verge of a breakdown with the disorganization in here. “I did leave a few times. I have to get my mail and all my Amazon products.”
“Are you ordering everything now?”
“You can get damn near anything delivered to your door these days.”
He frowned. “You should have someone here with you.”
I picked up some of the couch pillows off the floor and placed them on the couch. “A roommate?”
“No.”
“A boyfriend?” I rolled my eyes.
“The right boyfriend.” He drank my image in. “Someone who understands your music and passion, but knows how to take care of you.”
“I have it covered, Ru, but thanks for the love advice.” No matter what relationship I was in, I’d always lived alone and hadn’t met a man since who could tempt me to change that. Regardless of whatever crap or good times a relationship brought me, my home served as my sacred place. My solitude.
“So...you’re dating someone?” Ru asked like he always did.
“Nope. I realized this sad fact last week that I will probably always be alone.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s not really that depressing if you love to be alone. And I love myself. I have fun with myself.”
A wicked smile spread across his face. “I bet you do.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “So, is that the only thing you came to say?”
“No, I’m worried.”
“What?”
“You tend to overwork yourself. You’re the only one out of all my clients that needs to be told to enjoy themselves. Everyone else I have to yank out of the strip clubs and hire adult babysitters to take care of them.”