Healing Melody by Priya Grey, Ozlo Grey

stupor, Kade.”
    Our eyes meet again.
    “Glad I could help,” I say with a shrug. “But you don’t have to do that. It’s just two thousand.”
    “I insist,” she replies. “Please.”
    She motions to me to take the money.
    “Fine,” I mutter. I’ll be honest, for a brief moment last night, I forgot I was a whore. Now, it’s back to reality. I take the wad of bills and stuff them in my back pocket. “You a song writer?” I ask.
    “Yeah.”
    “Whatever you’re working on, it sounds good.”
    “Thank you.”  
    We keep staring at each other. I realize I’ve probably overstayed my welcome.
    I glance at the puppy. “Take it easy, Mingus.” He yelps a reply. Then I turn to her. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
    “You too,” she says softly, nodding her head.
    Considering the night we just spent together, we awkwardly shake hands.
    I leave the room and head toward the backdoor. When I swing the door open, I startle a redheaded woman with freckles standing outside. She’s carrying a bag of groceries and has a set of keys in her hand.
    “Who are you?” she asks suspiciously.
    “I’m a friend of…” then I realize I don’t even know her name. I see the suspicion grow in the redhead’s eyes.
    “She doesn’t have any friends, except me,” she blurts. She rushes past me with her bag of groceries. She runs into the kitchen shouting, “Melody, are you alright?”
    “I’m fine, Suzie! I’m in the living room working!”
    So that’s her name: Melody. It suits her.
    The girl, named Suzie, turns to me. Her nervous suspicion is now replaced by a calmer, more curious look.
    “A friend, huh?”
    I shrug. “Yep.”
    Then I turn and walk out the door.  
    As I make my way through the gates, I notice the same red Volkswagen parked down the street. Except this time, I can clearly see that the dude sitting inside has a camera and is snapping pictures.  
    I think about approaching him but decide I should just go home. It’s not my place to create a fuss.
    When I hit the 110, I get stuck in traffic. Trapped in my car, I raise the volume on the radio and listen to one of the pop songs playing. It’s a terrible song so I turn off the radio and think about her. About Melody. About the song she was composing.  
    Her voice sounded amazing.  
    Then I think about the night we just spent together. It wasn’t like my normal fuck sessions. Usually, I just go through the motions with a client. With Melody, it was different. True, she just wanted sex from me. But it felt like it was connected to something much deeper.  
    I think I actually helped her last night. Like she needed something that only I was able to provide. There was a connection between us. I wonder if she sensed the hollow feeling I’ve been carrying around since Max died. I wonder if she felt that I was lonely, just like her.  
    I couldn’t see her face, but I could see her eyes. They contained a multitude of emotions. Besides sadness and loneliness, they also reflected a fire, a burning desire. A hunger. A need.
    The way she fucked, I can tell she’s a passionate person. I guess you would have to be, if you’re an artist. And when I think about that beautiful song she was writing, I can tell she’s talented.
    Last night, for the first time in ages, I wasn’t thinking about Max. I was focused on what I could do to make Melody more comfortable in her skin. I think I helped her move one step forward. She needed to connect to someone, that person happened to be me.  
    I’m surprised by how badly I needed it too.
    After Max died, I’ve been struggling to find a reason to continue living. I felt like my presence on this earth didn’t really matter.  
    Last night, with Melody, it mattered.  
    I mattered.

C HAPTER S EVENTEEN

    Early the next morning, I get a call from someone who found me on Shane’s website. She wants to book me for a session – immediately – but wants to meet at the strangest of places.  
    “I’m sorry, did you