Tiger Eyes

Weeks later, Billie's fingers lingered again on a set of piano keys, but not the ones at his beloved Mahogany. These keys were much more worn than those, and that wear was evident even in the sound. Billie thought it was more dull than the grand piano at his workplace, this little instrument resting in his quiet living room with the worn old sofa and the cracked television and the broken coffee table. No mahogany furniture at all. No warm air full of chatter and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. No gut feeling of belonging, of ease. It was just a room, drafty and vacant and quiet, except for the sound of his fingers on the keys.

A hand fell on Billie's shoulder. It wasn't Mike's, though for a fraction of a second, it felt possible. That Mike would come to the home Billie so hated after the taste he'd obtained of a more exciting life of music and chatter and sweep him away, back to that land. It was as if Mike was his connection to that world now, after the time he'd spent talking to him, rather than that world being his one connection to Mike. Truly, where would he be without him? Here. He would be right here.

"Hey, Adie," he said as his song came to an end. He touched the smaller hand now, feeling the engagement ring on its finger, the shining ring he'd placed there. He lifted his head to see her sweet face framed by the black and blonde dreadlocks falling from their pony tail at the back of her head. She smiled, sitting on the bench next to him and accepting a soft kiss from her fiancé.

"Working on something new?" Adrienne asked softly, moving to sit ever closer to her lover.

"Mmmhm." He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in for another kiss, this time deeper, and she almost reluctantly agreed, wrapping her arms around the man's neck. Billie felt like an actor now, performing the role of the loving fiancé in the happy relationship, as one hand rested on his love's cheek and the other on her waist. He had to be very good at that job. It had to be real. He searched desperately for their old luster as he kissed her. Maybe he'd find it if he stayed there long enough. Maybe it would come back, stronger, more beautiful and perfect than before. Everyone had these slumps, didn't they?

"Wow," she smiled as they pulled apart, keeping her arms firmly around her fiancé's neck. Billie remembered a time when that smile would have sent butterflies to his stomach just knowing that he made her happy. He would kiss her again and again to see the smile more, to feel her relaxed body against him.

But she wasn't so relaxed anymore either.

"I have to get back to work, okay? Writing a song and all..."

It was then that Adrienne's sweet lips curved downward in a frown. "You're always working now, baby." She rubbed the back of his neck softly. "Take a break."

"Well it does help pay for the apartment, Adie..."

"And my check does nothing?" she asked indignantly. Adrienne always hated to feel dependent. But that's what she was, wasn't she? Depending on Billie to take care of her, to find their spark again, the spark that they'd so recently had until... until what? Until he'd started working at that bar for the richer residents of the city? Before that? When she thought about it, it seemed they'd been falling apart for a long time before Billie had surrendered his care to his music.

"Of course it does."

"Then why work so hard? Just take a day off. Let's go out somewhere."

"I can't just take a day off, okay? I'm a musician. I have to take every opportunity to play and improve." Billie had taken every opportunity. He played most every night, and when he wasn't on the piano at the Mahogany, he was right here at home, writing something new. It seemed that bar had inspired him, that bar and everything inside it. It was different. Billie needed that.

"You play constantly. I'm sure Mike would let you take a break if you explained..."

"No. No, he wouldn't."

"Well then you don't want to work for someone who wouldn't even let you have one night off anyway... you can just get a new job. And we can spend more time together."

"I can't just get a new job, Adrienne. I-" He sighed. She simply didn't understand. She didn't know how different the Mahogany was. How pure, how raw and powerful and frankly beautiful it could be. She didn't know that he could never give it up. "I'm a pianist, okay? There's no better place to work than the Mahogany. You don't know how important that is to me."

She shook her head. "It's just a job, sweetie."

Billie seemed hurt from the statement. Just a job? How could his lifelong love be that? "It's not just a job, Adrienne. It was never just a job, you know that."

"Darling, it's a job. That's all. And if you think a silly thing like a job is more important than living, then..."

"No!" Billie was becoming tired with these pet names. Sweetie, baby, honey, darling... he wasn't a child. He wasn't a pet. He wasn't hers to take care of. He was just Billie. Why couldn't she use his name? He took a deep breath at the sight of her shocked face. "You don't understand, okay? The job... it is my life, alright? It's the music. That's always been my life. Even when I was a kid, it was music. And now I can live off it, I need it."

"So music is your life?" It was Adrienne's turn to be upset.

"Yes."

"That's not what you said when you gave me this ring."

"Oh, Adie..."

"'I can't live without you, Adrienne Nesser. You're my whole life now, and I can't let you get away.' That's what you said to me. Sound familiar?"

Billie couldn't beleive she was bringing those words up, those mistakes, those lies that didn't know they were lies. He'd meant them when he said them, but... what? He didn't even know. Somehow, everything was different now. "Adie, please."

"Please what, Billie? God, I'm real, okay? I'm solid. I'm here." She took his hand and cupped it to her face. "You can't touch music, can you?"

Billie's heart broke again when he saw the sadness radiating from in her chocolate brown eyes and quickly pulled her closer in a tight embrace. He couldn't stand to see that sadness. "I'm sorry," he said as he allowed the mascara to run onto his shirt. But what was he sorry for? Sorry he paid more attention to his music? Sorry he spent so little time at home? Sorry their spark had finally and really let out? No, none of them seemed true.

He was only sorry to see her cry.

"I'm sorry, Adie. I'm so sorry."