Chapter 4

The bassist was packing up his instrument, the low thrum of his amplifier fading into the hum of the air conditioning, but the air in our private nook remained thick, charged with a static electricity that made the fine hairs on my arms stand upright. We were tucked away in the furthest corner of the *Blue Note*, a space designed for intimacy but usually reserved for whispered business deals or quiet first dates. Tonight, however, it felt like a fortress. The velvet booth we occupied was deep enough to swallow us whole, upholstered in a rich, midnight blue that matched the dim, amber lighting casting long, lazy shadows across the polished wood floor. The scent of aged whiskey, expensive tobacco, and the lingering perfume of a hundred other guests still clung to the heavy drapes, creating a cocoon of sensory overload. I sat perched on the edge of the seat, my legs crossed at the knee, the slit in my charcoal pencil skirt riding up to reveal the smooth, bare skin of my thigh. I had been wearing that outfit specifically for him. A silk blouse, unbuttoned just enough to hint at the lace beneath, clung to my chest, damp