give her love » james potter

55

I've never been to America but James has, so he's in charge of leading us to where Kyoshi lives. The city is bustling and we're a bit terrified that one of us will get lost in the crowd because there are far too many people in a space this small.

We've been walking around for the past hour with no luck and just growing frustration. But, I've managed to fill James in on the back story of the person and how Aunt Sally had left the envelope with the address on my bed at the beach house. He asks why I want to find this person so badly? I don't have an answer because it's just some gut feeling that I can't explain.

Jazz music floats into my ears, the sweet sounds of trumpets and saxophones alongside a killer piano. The smell of bittersweet coffee comes along with it and my stomach growls.

"Break," I mumble, looking to see there are stairs that lead down to what I assume is the jazz club slash restaurant. "I'm starving."

He nods and we head down the stairs to the bright blue door. I open it and am greeted by a mouthful of smoke and people who look effortlessly cool in all-black ensembles. It's pretty empty but that makes sense, jazz feels like something you'd enjoy the most in the evening and into the night.

There's a table in the corner that still gives you a nice view of the stage where it seems people are just practicing instead of doing a true performance.

Our waiter comes up to us looking even cooler than everybody else. He has slicked-back black hair and some thin black long sleeve. "Lunch ended an hour ago, so right now it's mainly just a mix of soups, salads, coffee, and pastries," he tells us with a tight smile. "There's also bibimpap but nobody ever gets it."

I look over at James who doesn't have a clue, he just shrugs as if telling me to order for him. So I scan the menu for a moment before saying, "Just water, uh . . . is that the only Korean dish you have?"

The waiter smiles after realising I know where it's from. "Sung-ho only knows that one sorry."

"We'll get two of those then and uhm, maybe a garden salad on the side?"

He nods writing it down and mumbles something about twenty minutes before going to the back. So, James and I stare at the guy on the stage who keeps getting frustrated and starting a new piece. He's playing bebop jazz which is one of my lesser-liked parts of the genre.

But then it clicks for him and it's like magic, watching him almost become one with the song. It's easy to see how much hard work he's put into the song because though it's extremely difficult, he knows it like a mother tongue.

"So did you go inside yesterday?"

"I did," I smile, then point at my earrings. "Managed to get some stuff I'd been missing for the last year."

James smiles. "You might have to take me along next time, I'm dying to see the Peirce house."

I'm hesitant on saying yes because it feels like Nathan and I's thing. The house. And it's a stupid thought because you can't just say only one person can come inside a house with you, but I don't want to bring James because it's not something that's for us.

"Sure," I mumble, looking to see the guy's finished the song.

"Do you like this music?"

I nod.

He stares at a blonde girl who I swear I've seen before, get on the stage with her band. She doesn't have an instrument in her hands so I'm guessing she's the vocals for this song. From the second the song starts I already know it's my favourite vocal jazz song.

"She reminds me of the singer at Siobhan's wedding," he says, then the connection clicks for me as well. Then frowns. "I'm sorry about that night by the way. I don't think I ever properly apologized about that and you also never got to tell me about those ghosts you'd been seeing."