Maria had taken herself across town. Across town, alone, at night, to hear Spinner play his guitar.
Maria sat alone in a corner watching him. Every note he played touched her soul. She stared into his face, imagining all the fantasies she had during the week coming true.
When he finished and came off the stage she didn’t sit shyly, expecting him to come to her, for she wasn’t sure he knew she was there. She went to him, almost pushing people out of the way.
“Spinner!” she cried with a smile.
He looked at her.
Whether he recognised her or not, someone called to him, began to speak to him, and she caught his wrist so he wouldn’t be pulled away from her.
He turned to her, “Don’t remember, I was here with Mark and…”
“Are they here?” he asked.
“No, just me.”
“Okay…” he said with puzzlement.
“I had to come back to hear you again, you are very good.”
“Thanks…” he said, trying to break her grip on his wrist, then thinking she had something to tell him, said, “Yes? What is it?”
“I want to see you again…”
“I’m here every Saturday…”
“No, I mean, you know… you and I…”
“I am with someone…” he said, breaking the grip, moving away as if fleeing.
Maria stood a moment, then walked out of the Club, took a taxi home.