Finding Opa! Read Online Free PDF Page B

impressed with his neighbor’s sudden transformation. “You look hot.”
     
    “Gee, thanks,” Stacey said, blushing. “So, I had better go. I may have like five more minutes to put on a little more make-up.”
     
    “Okay. Thanks for your support,” Clive said, backing away from the door. “And if you only do it once, listen to it. You just might like it. I wrote all of the songs on this one. It’s my solo gig. I’m trying to get famous.”
     
    As Clive was explaining, the doors to the elevator opened, and Hunter emerged with a huge bouquet of red roses. He stopped in his tracks with a what-the-hell look on his face as he saw Clive with his date.
     
    Stacey waved him over with a smile. “Oh, there he is,” Stacey said, feeling her chest tighten at the very sight of him. He looked even better than the first couple of times. Dressed in black, sleek and sexy, he approached with a wicked grin.
     
    Hunter walked past Clive and turned with a curious smile. “How you doing?” Hunter asked, nodding at the oddly dressed man.
     
    “Treat her nice,” Clive ordered sternly as he turned awkwardly and headed to the next door with his bag of CDs.
     
    Hunter didn’t reply. Instead, he strode over to the door where Stacey stood and looked her up and down. “Wow,” he said, lost for words. In his mind, he had never imagined that she would have worn a dress just for him. She was totally a jeans and t-shirt type of girl. And while he didn’t mind her normal style, he was incredibly thankful for a glimpse at the most perfect body that he’d ever seen.
     
    “I take it that you like the duds?” Stacey said, rubbing her hand over her dress playfully.
     
    “What straight man wouldn’t?” he answered, finally offering the flowers. “These are for you, though they are dramatically diminished by your beauty.”
     
    Stacey was caught off guard by his gracious compliment. She took them and smelled their aroma. “They’re beautiful,” she said, stepping to the side. “Won’t you come in?” She fluttered her eyelashes lightheartedly. “I’m playing the debutante thing up tonight.”
     
    “Absolutely,” he said, walking past her.
     
    Stacey’s home was as eclectic as she was, which was a relief to Hunter. He believed that the home should match the soul. Usually, where there was conflict in the two, there was often a person in the middle of an identity crisis. Hers was a sprawling, open loft with exposed brick walls, hanging designer lights, rich colors and culturally meaningful art. He stopped at a painting of Miles Davis and smiled.
     
    “I definitely like the Miles,” he said, noting that the piece was an original.
     
    Putting the flowers into a crystal vase, Stacey looked up a nodded. “My father was a saxophonist in Harlem. I grew up listening to Miles Davis and Coltrane. It’s in my blood.”
     
    Hunter noticed the photos on the wall facing the street. Each was in a black frame, each a black and white photo of Harlem. Some were from the present, others from various decades. All were of musicians at various clubs or congregating together on various corners. He marveled at the paintings, feeling as though they all told a secret story about Stacey that he would never had known if he hadn’t bothered to look.
     
    “So you grew up in Harlem?” he asked, turning to steal another glance of her.
     
    Stacey walked to over him. “Yes. New York was my home for many years,” she said nostalgically. She looked up at the photos and smiled.
     
    “Do you ever miss it?” Secretly, he inhaled a whiff of her cologne, while keeping his eyes on the wall. It was hard to do with her standing beside him. He wanted to turn and hold her in his arms.
     
    “Sometimes,” she answered.
     
    “So, why won’t you go back?”
     
    She bit her lip. What was this, twenty questions? “I don’t travel,” she said, frowning. “I haven’t traveled since Drew died.”
     
    Normally, her divulging that information would