Through the Fire by Donna Hill

but not for me,” he said, allowing his irrational anger and emotional confusion to erect a protective wall around him.
    Had she been wrong in her conclusions about what happened? Did she want this so bad that she was seeing things that weren’t there? “I…I don’t get it, Quinn. You seemed like you wanted to talk and once we do, you turn it around like I’ve done something to you?”
    “Maybe it’s not about you, Rae.”
    His tone, his unwarranted attack stung as sharp as a slap. Fine, if that’s the way he wants it. “Look, I’ll be at Encore, if you decide to come, it’s on you, okay? A friend of mine is playing tonight at nine. You might enjoy it. Think about it at least.”
    “Yeah,” he mumbled as he heard the phone click in his ear.
    Absently, he scribbled down the info, hung up the phone, and walked back to the piano, where he stood staring at the keys for what seemed like an eternity. Rae. She refused to let him hide, to sink back into his safe place. Damn her! It was so much easier before when he didn’t care. The slip of paper was still in his hand, burning his fingers. He stared at it, thought about tearing it up, and did.

Chapter 13
    S triding briskly through the light drizzle, along the tree-lined avenues of the West Village, Quinn tried to remember if he’d parked the Jeep on the right side of the street for the following day. He hadn’t really been paying attention, his mind focusing on the evening ahead. But the last thing he needed was another ticket, that would be four in the last three months, all for parking. He thought about turning back, just to check, but glancing at his watch he knew itwould be pointless and just another stalling excuse to keep him away a few minutes longer. He’d just have to take his chances.
     
    Encore. He casually entered the room, looking around to see if she was already there, which she was—seated in a far corner at an intimate, cozy table. Rae. She looked even lovelier than she had the last time they were together, dressed in a stunning black silk blouse with a red scarf covered with artfully done African designs, tossed around her long neck with a sense of high style. A tall brother, wearing a long straw yellow Arab robe with a shiny bald head and an earring in his left ear, was standing near her, whispering something that seemed to crack her up. She laughed, her head back, all of her bright white teeth on display. It was clear to him that life moved on as usual for her. Rae’s laughter didn’t stop once Quinn stepped up beside the man, who stood up straight and moved to leave before Rae touched his arm.
    “Amir Allie, Quinn Parker,” Rae said, making the introductions.
    Amir’s eyes momentarily sparked in recognition. A broad smile spread across his face. “ The Quinn Parker?”
    “The one and only,” Rae said proudly, smiling up at a somber-faced Quinn.
    “Glad to meet you, brother,” Amir said, smiling, shifting the chew stick in his mouth and taking Quinn’s outstretched hand and pumping it between both of his. “Man, Quinn Parker,” he said with deference. “Brotha, you can play some ivories. I only wish I had your skills.”
    “Thanks,” Quinn mumbled, becoming increasingly uncomfortable, knowing by rote the direction the conversation would take. Knowing the next string of questions before they were asked.
    “Yeah, man, where you been? Back in the studio working on your next platinum, right?” Amir went on. He patted Quinn on the shoulder as if they were the best of friends. “Read that book of yours, too. Heavy stuff. Brothers don’t usually write like that, but I dug it. You’re one of those rare renaissance men.”
    Rae monitored the tight expression on Quinn’s face, the look of one who wanted toescape in his eyes. The muscles of his jaw worked up and down, and she realized that he was close to snapping.
    “Amir always was a talker,” Rae cut in, clasping Quinn’s biceps and feeling the tension. “If we let him he’ll