As hesitant as Lisa was to give her heart away, deep down she was much more of a romantic than a realist. She could never give up on the idea that somewhere in the world there was a man for her.
“So, what do you do here?” he asked.
“I review pop albums,” she answered.
“Ah, so you specialize in pop music. I have to say I’m a little envious. Pop has always been my preference. At my last position, when the guy who wrote pop features announced he was leaving, I begged my editor to give me a shot at his job. But he wouldn’t even consider it. I was the resident jazz expert and once he stuck a label on you, that was it,” he said.
Lisa smiled sweetly. “Well, sometimes I think I like jazz more than pop. It’s, I don’t know, more sophisticated and intriguing than most pop music.” It was all Lisa could do to get out those two sentences. Whenever she first met someone, particularly a man, she felt so ill at ease. She had to struggle to find the right words and to keep up her end of the conversation. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was on the verge of making a fool of herself. But this time things seemed to be going fairly well, mostly because she hadn’t begun to stutter.
“Do you know much about early rock?” he asked.
“All she knows is useless trivia,” broke in Malcolm.
“Well, she couldn’t know more useless trivia than me,” said Reggie.
“How much do you know about the legendary Dusty Springfield?”
Suddenly Lisa’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Born Mary O’Brien in 1939. Part of the British invasion. Her best know album ‘Dusty in Memphis’ was listed by ‘Rolling Stone’ as one the greatest albums of all time. Her hits included ‘Son of a Preacher Man’, The ‘Look of Love’ and of course ‘You Don’t Have to Say you Love Me’,” she said laughingly.
“You really do know your music,” he said.”
“Well, Dusty Springfield was always one of my favorites,” she said.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish