Gio by Kenya Wright

Author:Kenya Wright [Wright, Kenya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ZachEvans Publishing
Published: 2018-01-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Simone

They teach you

there's a boundary line to music.

But, man,

there's no boundary line to art.

~Charlie Parker

Gio’s studio was in a building away from his massive house. He sent one of his staff members to get my coat. I quickly put it on and followed him outside, my heart pounding the whole time.

The moon lay in a dark, snowy sky. Flakes had not stopped falling since I’d woken up. Still, there was a freshly shoveled path to his studio as if Gio had ordered someone to do it, in anticipation of us coming out there tonight.

He firmly held my hand as we made it to his studio in no time. The wind bit at my skin as my teeth rattled, flakes landing on my hair and shoulders. My poor blow out would be a wet, curly mess by the time we got to the studio, but I was too excited to see it and didn’t care.

Once we arrived, he used a key to open the door, flipped on the switch, and guided me in. “Are you cold?” he asked, stomping his boots and shaking the snow from them on the front door mat.

“No. I’m fine.” I took his lead, doing the same, not wanting to track snow into his studio.

I followed him in before pulling off my boots and placing them by the door. He did the same, keeping his back to me as he did so. I couldn’t help but stare at his broad shoulders. I thought he'd be a big guy from all the times I’d seen him on TV, but he was even bigger than I imagined.

He turned his head a little, glancing over his shoulder at me. That black hair fell over the other side of his face and blocked my view a little. One deep blue eye met mine, and I yearned to see more of him, even though I’d been watching him all through dinner.

The studio came alive before me, filled with everything that any millionaire musician would want. It made my pitiful little living room studio look like a crack den.

And the flowers. They were all over the place. There must’ve been over a hundred types decorating every free space. Roses danced around lilies. Irises wound near sunflowers. Daffodils stood next to marigolds. Tulips tickled daisies. It was a garden inside a studio.

“Whoa.”

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I love this. I’m going to have flowers filling up my studio too.”

“Good. I got them for you. I’ll make sure the staff keeps fresh ones around.”

“You’re...you’re fucking awesome, Gio.”

He sat down at the piano and his long hair fell along the side of his face again, only showing me half of him. Not even thinking, I took a step toward him, unable to stop myself from reaching to move the hair.

“Thank you.” He didn’t move, and I couldn’t seem to form any words with him so close.

“Sit with me, please,” he said. “Play with me.”

Once again that deep, sensual voice had me. I was at his command.

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