What about me?

Part 3:

"Once he gets in, he removes his hat revealing a thick silky head of dark brown hair. For some reason I have the gnawing temptation to run my fingers through it. I shake that thought off and peer out the window.

"The Crystal Palace at Empress Square?" He confirms in that smoldering deep dreamy voice.

"Correct. Thank you."

I try to relax back for the one-hour-long drive in rush hour traffic while my mind rushes. I can't believe that my break-up last year brought up so much anger and regret.

"Why didn't I talk to Sasha about my feelings? Damnit, I just buried them and plowed through the pain. I had no idea. I just kept going. Now, I'm a fucking mess.

I still believe there's a good man out there somewhere for me. My ex-asshole never gave me butterflies or even chocolate. I liked him and we did have good sex. The truth is I would have settled for those pitiful crumbs. How pathetic. As sad as it is, his dumping me saved me. Well, maybe Sasha's right. Maybe it's time to get back out there. I chuckle thinking of her insane suggestion – an affair, adult dating.

As I stare out the window blankly, I start to tap my foot to a familiar song. The driver's playing music very low. To my surprise and relief, it's not jolly holiday music. No Santa's coming down the chimney or bells of holly. I recognize it. It's jazz. The mellow sound of the trumpet and smooth snare drum flow through me as my shoulders relax and  I close my eyes. That's interesting. I don't know many around my age that listen to Jazz. He's in his late twenties, I think, like me. This is probably one track and a mixture of other more common music with some jolly merriment tossed in. An assortment to please every customer, of course. That's cool, I guess. I just appreciate hearing something different. As the next few tracks play, it's one Jazz great after another. I smile and for the first time since the morning I feel relaxed and at ease. I'm unconcerned about anything, just content. Nice.

I know I shouldn't engage him, but I want to keep my mind occupied. At least that's what I tell myself.

"Uh excuse me. But are you into Jazz?" He looks at me in the mirror with amazing soft brown eyes. He doesn't say anything and then responds.

"Yeah. I like it." I push back into my seat getting his message clearly. He's not interested in talking.

"And you?" He says as I slightly startle.

"Uh, I love it." I retake the space I gave up and move forward again, just a bit, leaning more with my torso. "That's a nice mix you're playing." I can tell from his eyes he smiles as the edges crinkle a bit. "Can you turn up the sound a bit, please."

"Sure." I focus on my hands in my lap while moving my head to the beat. I don't like the silence. I don't often take a limo, but when I'm driven, I usually focus on my phone or work. But not tonight. I don't care to be alone with my thoughts. Surprisingly, I start to talk to this total stranger. "My dad taught music and he's a big jazz fan. So is my mom. They met at a jazz club. So, I got my introduction from birth. It was always playing." My hands wring nervously. Who the fuck was that? Me? So unguarded. And why the hell did I give this strange dude my life story. Anyway, it felt good to share. To take a risk. I'm sincerely interested, so why not talk. I love jazz and rarely get the opportunity to talk about it.

His head bobs as he seems to listen. I have no idea why I'm talking to this total stranger but I'm at ease as if I'm talking with an old friend. The vehicle then goes quiet, and I'd like to hear his voice if he'd be willing to talk.

"Uh, I'm Jungkook."

He nods softly. I swallow with the awkward space of time. Embarrassment creeps through my gut as I turn towards the window. Apparently, he doesn't want to talk to me. That's cool.

"I'm Kim Taehyung. The Driver." From the fine crinkles around his eyes, he smiles. I release an unrestraint chuckle. I see he has a sense of humor. "You know this song?"

"Are you kidding? It's Summertime, sang by Ella Fitzgerald 1968. You gotta come harder than that to catch me off guard Taehyung." I chuckle and feel the warmth of amusement in my chest. He huffs out a laugh and nods his head.

"Wow, you're good Jungkook." Again, his smile shows in his eyes.

"Uh Taehyung, how did you start listening to jazz?" I hope it not too intrusive, but I don't care. I just don't want to be alone.

"Uh Jungkook, both of my parents are huge jazz fans. So, like you, I've been hearing it from my crib." I hear a deep chuckle rumble from his throat and my dick twitches. What the fuck. That's not the reaction I normally have to a stranger, even one as handsome as Taehyung.

"Wow, that's nice." I'm not sure if that statement is more related to him than what he's saying. I inch forward in my seat wanting to hear more. This is the most alive I've felt all day. A simple conversation with my limousine driver.

"Do you play an instrument?" I share to keep the conversation going and hear the smooth flow of his silky voice.

"Yes, two." He sounds more engaged. That's good.

"Well tell me more, Taehyung?" I request. I hear a laugh spring from him and it's delightful. My eyes and ears open more fully, and I wait with anticipation.

"I play the piano and saxophone. What about you, Jungkook?"

"I play the drums, double base, guitar, and sing. Are you professionally trained?" God, I hope I don't sound like a snob in a tuxedo. Relax I tell myself.

He then blurts out a loud unrestrained laugh and I'm frozen.

"No, not classically but I've had a few courses and learned piano by ear. I've had no complaints."

"Wow, that's impressive, Taehyung." A carefree laugh that is heartwarming springs from him. Every sound that emanates from him, his voice and laugh is wonderfully pleasant.

"You haven't heard me play. We'll then see how impressive you think I am." I'd love to hear you play; can we do that tonight. You know skip this event and go to my house for a jazz session and maybe more. That's what I really like to say. He chuckles again and a warm heat fills my chest.

"No Jungkook, you're impressive. This is a music event, and something tells me you're a professional." I lower my head as if I don't want him to catch me blushing. Although his eyes are on the traffic with an infrequent glare into his rearview mirror, I still have the reaction.

"I'm a music arranger. You know, write music for songs." I say shyly. I've never been comfortable sharing about myself although I know I'm talented. All my professors have always told me that. And I do well.

"Cool dude! Any songs I'd know?" He says with excitement as one of his perfect eyebrows arches up.

"You like Kpop?" I write for a few artists.

"Not really. I don't dislike it. I just like the classics." I don't bother telling him about the songs and artists I've written for.

"That's cool Jungkook. You in a band?" I actually blush and feel thankful his eyes are on the road.

"Oh no, nothing like that but I mess around. What about you Taehyung?"

"I was once, but we broke up." His voice softens.

"What happen?" I ask.

"We grew up. "An unhinged riotous laugh springs from me and he soon joins.

We engage in an easy flow of conversation. It's the most enriching exchange that I've had in a long time and before I know it Taehyung pulls up behind a succession of long limousines at the Crystal Palace. As we slowly inch forward my stomach flips, and I start to wring my hands. Finally, the vehicle rolls to a stop and Taehyung starts to get out.

"No Taehyung! We're like 20 minutes early can you like uh, take me for a short drive? I-I can't go in there. Uh, not, yet." I fall back into my plush seating and suddenly all the anxiety that I was carrying has returned.