Seeing KV Again

I parked my car in front of my friend Erin’s little bungalow and sat there for a minute.  I looked up at the sweet little home she’d bought for herself last year, and saw the lights twinkling inside.  I had been on the road for an hour, since she lived south of me in the suburbs beyond the state line in Kentucky; why was I hesitating now?

Erin had invited me over for a “Living Room Show” with Kyle Vincent.  I’d followed him for ages, and became friendly with him  seven years ago when we finally met before a show.  He’d been bubbling under the surface of the music business ever since, with sporadic touring to showcase his CD releases.  I’d seen him last in 2001, when I’d dragged Erin with me to his appearance at our local Borders.  She’d become hooked, and had been a fan ever since.

But lately Kyle had been doing something really different to promote his records:  instead of waiting to be booked in clubs or other appearances, he instead allowed fans to book him directly into their homes for small, intimate shows.  I had to admit it was kind of genius.  He had a very dedicated and loyal fan base, and so now he was touring the country playing living rooms filled with people much more likely to walk away fans than if he was an opener for some other act at a club somewhere.

And so Erin had jumped at the chance to see him again, in the comfort of her own home, with her closest friends there to be part of the experience. She’d recently gotten an upright blond piano at Goodwill, and paid more to have it tuned for the performance than she had to purchase it.  Several of our close mutual friends were coming, and we were all going to have a slumber party after the show was over.  It all was perfectly arranged and should be a great time.

Which is why I couldn’t explain at all why I felt glued to the car seat.  Why wasn’t I more excited at the prospect of seeing Kyle again?  We had been friends over email for seven years now, though in the last few since I’d been working for Rick we hadn’t talked all that much.  I supposed I felt a little guilty, wondering if he felt as if I’d gotten too busy with the big rock star to maintain a friendship with him.  Of course there was also the raging crush I’d always had on him, that didn’t make sense since I was married and now had three children.  Would it all be silly and awkward or friendly and easy?  I just wasn’t sure.

Finally, I eased myself out of the minivan and walked up the stairs to her front door.  As I knocked, I looked around in time to see him arrive:  Kyle and a young girl in a small rental car pulling up to the curb.  He unfolded himself from the front seat and stood there for a moment, eyes adjusting to the dim light of evening, roaming up and down the scene.  His gaze landed on me, and his eyes opened wide with recognition and what appeared to be enthusiasm.  I sighed in relief and let my cheeks grow red as he took the stairs two at a time to greet me.

“Long time no see Mrs. Springfield,” he joked, gathering me into a hug.  “You and I have to talk.”

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