Play It Again, Blaine...
Blaine stared at the piano in his new restaurant. It had been months since he’d allowed his fingers to dance over the ivories, because every time he tried his thoughts and his songs turned towards her again. The thought of playing for an audience had filled his insides with ice since his last disastrous show—still wallowing in despair after the breakup and bleeding that misery in melodies to bathe everyone around him in his pain. He knew he needed to conquer it, but still everything he longed to play had an edge to it.
His dinner crowd was clearing out, and the urge to take his place at the piano was becoming irresistible after months of struggle. Don E. had been after him for weeks to add some entertainment to the venue. Blaine just couldn’t accept the thought of anyone else performing for his patrons in his restaurant.
Blaine squared his shoulders—decision made—and with a whisper to Don E. he took his place at the bench. He played the opening chords to an old ballad from one of his favorite classic films, a movie that, between his forrays into the blackmarket and the tense state of the heavily controlled city around him, had been on his mind a lot recently.
She was still in his mind as he sang, but there was a feeling of calm too as though he’d spent enough time hurting that the wound had finally gone numb. The crowd seemed content with the mood of the song, particularly an older couple smiling and feeding each other Fettuccine Medulla Alfredo at the corner table. Blaine relaxed into the song, as his fears of flopping again faded.
By the time he reached the closing lyrics he was enjoying the familiar rush of a good set. “It’s still the same old story… A fight for love and glory… A case of do or die… The world will always welcome lovers… As time goes by…”
The sound of applause drew his attention, and Blaine looked up to see a beautiful woman smiling slightly. Her long, autumn brown hair had been styled in loose curls that hung down her back. Her misty green eyes were as warm as he remembered, but he wasn’t sure how to read her bittersweet expression.
Blaine hadn’t heard anything about Peyton having joined the ranks of Team-Z, but his mind refused to accept the idea that she had willingly come to a zombie restaurant to seek him out after so long. The cautious part of his brain knew that her presence could only mean trouble for him. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine,” Blaine repeated to himself in a breathy whisper.
