Heavy Metal Heartfelt Blues

Heavy Metal Heartfelt Blues By J.D. Walker “Pull up a chair, hon.” My date, Trenton LeDoux, gestured to the seat across from him at a pretentious little bistro—in my humble opinion—where we’d decided to meet for our first date. I cleared my throat. “Thanks.” As I sat down, I reminded myself that I was deliberately trying new things. Case in point, the man across from me had shoulder-length, magenta hair, and a lip ring. I’d met him online through a dating site. Though he was certainly not the kind of guy I might have gone for in the past, his interests and mine had overlapped in many areas, and he had a lovely smile and nice blue eyes. “Different is good,” was my friend Sonny Bonhomie’s constant, annoying refrain. He worked as an HR manager at the same company where I was the CFO. His words had become my mantra in an increasingly unhinged world, at least from my point of view. It had been many months since I’d broken up with my boyfriend, ex-cop Noah Stiles. As much as I missed the man and was still concerned about his welfare, I had to let him go. All my attempts to locate him after he’d suddenly disappeared after last Thanksgiving had failed. He hadn’t responded to any of my emails or phone calls, and he hadn’t shown up at any of his usual haunts. It was as if he’d fallen off the face of the earth. Knowing his background like I did, I wondered if he’d gotten caught up in his old gang again. Maybe I should have tried harder, been more flexible when we were together. I had even tried being in an open relationship with him because he was skittish about one-on-one commitment due to having to fend for himself so much in his younger years. Even that hadn’t helped. Should I have let him stay with me when he’d called back in November, needing a bed for one night? I didn’t know if— “Helloooo, Bridges,” Trenton said, waving a hand in front of me. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” I blushed, but I was thankful he didn’t seem offended by my bad manners as I snapped back to the present. “Sorry. I’m listening now, I swear.” “I wanted to know if you’d like some wine? They have a good selection here.” He gestured to the fancy menu, and I belatedly realized that a young lady stood next to our table, waiting to take our orders. “A Chardonnay, please.” “I’ll have the same,” he added, and then suggested appetizers to which I quickly agreed. When we were alone again, he asked, “What’s on your mind, Bridges? You’ve been distracted since you sat down.” Trenton appeared concerned rather than pissed. “Apologies for my behavior, Trenton. I…Well, it’s complicated, and I’ll ruin our date if I air my, er, dirty laundry.” Trenton laughed, something so unexpected and free, I was drawn in. “That’s the best kind! And I’m glad to hear you have some. If I were a betting man, I’d have assumed you would never allow something to go off the reservation without your approval. Everything from your precise haircut to your stern demeanor implies that. But I try not to judge. I get enough of that on a daily basis.” I couldn’t help a glance at his bright hair, and Trenton chuckled. “See what I mean?” Oh, dear. “I’m sorry,” I started to say again, but he waved my words away. “I figure that the fact you’re here, willing to give me a chance, is better than nothing, right?” A shadow crossed his face, but then it disappeared behind a sunny smile. “Tell Uncle Trenton all about it.” Strangely enough, I did.