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We sat down, and I ordered us a bottle of wine. Down below us, the lights from the Riverwalk’s restaurants glimmered off the surface of the water. Couples strolled up and down the walk, and the sound of a street violinist drifted from somewhere off in the distance. Kendra looked around, her dark eyes wide.

“This place is nice,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to come somewhere so fancy. I thought we were going to go for McDonald’s, or something.”

I laughed. “Hell, no.”

She eyed me. “I’m sorry, is this…” She paused when the waiter returned to the table with two glasses and a bottle of Riesling. Kendra smiled politely as the waiter poured a glass, waiting until he’d gone to finish her thought. “Melany, is this a date?”

“It can be, if you’d like,” I said, picking up my glass. “Cheers?”

Kendra hesitated and shifted in her seat. I found myself tensing in anticipation for her to up and leave, but she didn’t. “This isn’t a date,” she said, finally. “I’m not looking for anything like that right now.”

I smiled. “Sure. Cheers to new friends, then?” I was disappointed, but not deterred. She was into women, and single.

“Cheers. Sorry again about the, uh, chest.”

After we placed our orders, Kendra asked me what I did for a living.

“I’m a software developer for phones. I make apps.”

“Anything I’d know?”

“Not unless you’re in real estate, are an amateur pilot, or a long-haul truck driver,” I said. “They’re fairly specialized.”

“So, your office is nearby here?”

“You could say that. I work from home. I’m self-employed.”

“Wow,” she said. “That must be nice.”

“Hey, you are too,” I replied. “You’re a musician.”

She smiled and scratched the back of her head, looking shy. It was pretty damn adorable.

“Today was my first day doing the whole street drumming thing. I work at a restaurant as my day job. If you could even call it that.”

“Shitty pay?” I asked.

“Shitty hours. I just got my shifts cut down yesterday, which is why I decided to try the street drumming. It sucks.” She gulped the rest of her wine down in one go, and looked at the empty glass with some embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, we have a whole bottle,” I said, pouring another glass. “I’m sure you can pull in some good money with the drumming. You’re really good.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Earlier you said that you haven’t drummed in a while. Why is that? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She fidgeted and sipped on the wine. “It’s a long story,” she said. Code for “I don’t want to talk about it,” which of course only made me more curious.

“We have a whole meal and a bottle of wine,” I said. “Bring on the long stories. It doesn't have to be that one.” I took a long sip from my glass. “I’ve seen a lot of drummers here on the Riverwalk, but you’re definitely the best. I’m shocked that was your first time. It can’t be easy to get that kind of variety and precision from makeshift instruments.”

“I don’t know about precision,” she said. “But when you’ve played for long enough, you know the kind of sound you want. I just picked the right objects for the job.”

“Right,” I said, nodding. “Makes sense.”

By the time our food had come, we’d polished off our glasses again. I refilled them, and then ordered a second bottle.

“Shit, you don’t have to,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.