Chapter 6: A Tour of the City

QUINN'S POV

The elevator doors opened and Collin took a left while we headed out the front doors. The car had been brought around and stood waiting at the curb.

"Collin seemed bothered you didn't need him," I started as I snuggled into the comfortable leather seat.

"He's my personal assistant. He's use to being at my side."

"Oh." I sneezed again. "Where are we going?"

"The Empire State Building."

"Do you think taking me to the Empire State Building is the best idea? My sedative has long worn off."

"Today is about facing fears, Quinn."

"Is it? Because, for me, today was about 'not' having to live with fear anymore."

"Well, you're still alive, so today you'll have to look your fears in the face. What're you afraid of?"

I chewed on my lip. "Everything."

"Fear is a learned behavior and typically a manifestation of a bigger issue. I'll prove it to you."

I didn't know what he meant and I wasn't sure I wanted to. He could psychoanalyze me all day if he wanted. I stared out the window, burying myself in the cocoon of his coat. I watched skyscrapers flash by, shrouded in a haze of winter white. There were people and buildings everywhere. The energy in D.C. and New York were the same -- rich with life, vitality, verve.

But New York consumed you. The city held a fullness -- an endless stream of activity and you couldn't help but find yourself caught up in the whirlpool of noise and chaos. My senses were overstimulated by the odious mixture of food vendors and exhaust pipes. My ears burned with the sounds of screeching tires and yelling pedestrians.

But for me, the February air carried with it the frigid freeze of desolation, the ice of loneliness and despair. It was the harsh winters that killed things, buried life underneath hard, packed snow. It suffocated and pressed down until the fresh breath of spring burst through.

I would only allow today to be an interlude, the intermission before my finale -- the swan song of all swan songs. Tomorrow I would do what I set out to do. For now, I'd let Ford think he saved me.

The car was too quiet. I had to shake myself from looming, dismal thoughts. I reached for the knob on the radio and pushed it on. From the steering wheel, Ford turned it off. I looked at him.

"I'd like to listen to some music, if you don't mind."

"I do mind," he replied curtly.

"Let me guess. You don't like music."

"Correct."

I huffed. "Who doesn't like music? It's almost un-American."

"Then consider me a foreigner."

I cracked a smile. "See, you can tell a joke."

He glanced over at me, his gaze flicking up and down my frame. "We should see about getting you a coat that fits."

"No need," I sighed, bundling myself up. "I like this one. It smells like you."

"Where's your family?" he questioned abruptly.

"I thought you weren't going to ask me any personal questions."

"I won't ask you how you fell from a bridge. Everything else is fair game."

"Like hell it is."

"Must I remind you I saved your life today?"

"Must I remind you that I don't care? How long are you going to lord that over my head anyway?"

"I answered your questions about my family."

I scoffed. "And I practically had to twist your arm. You're hardly an open book, Ford."

"I'm a very private person."

I folded my arms over my chest. "So am I."

"Just answer me this. Where does your family live?"

He wasn't going to let up. "I don't have any family."

Silence followed and I turned my attention back to the window.

"Let's hear your taste in music, then," he finally said.

I stared at him, watching his angular jaw working overtime as he clenched his teeth. He was so painfully handsome with his olive brown skin and perfect profile. I tore my eyes away.

I reached for the radio again. "I don't know what type of music to introduce a newbie to first. Pop, reggae, oldies, jazz. What'll it be?"

"You decide."

His eyes were fixated on the road and I shrugged. "Okay. I'll start you off easy."

"My love or hatred of music forever, now, is in your hands."

I laughed. "No pressure."

I pushed the scan button and waited as the radio played snippets of songs and commercials. I'd already heard two songs I liked, but I didn't think Ford could handle the likes of Taylor Swift or Kanye West. I'd have to break him in gently.

The radio skimmed over more stations and I punched the knob with my index finger, stopping on a classical song. Violin and cello strings strummed in the background as the piano keys floated in, filling the top of the music.

"This is as good as an introduction to music as you're going to get. This is Schumann's Piano Concerto in A minor."

"How do you know that?"

"I listened to a lot of classical music growing up."

"Who turned you on to classical music?"

My shoulders tensed. "No one. I came to love it on my own." If you turned it up loudly enough, the pounding of a timpani or the brassy slide of a trombone could mute the wails of a child. I shivered at the recollection.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"A little."

Ford turned up the heat, blasting my cheeks with warmth.

"The pianist is amazing," I cooed. "Listen to how fast his fingers move across the keys." I held my hands up and played the air piano like a virtuoso. "If you really want to gain an appreciation for classical music, listen to it performed live. You can't deny the artistry. Each instrument plays a part in the culmination of a masterpiece. It's --," I broke off.

Ford had stopped at a red light and had turned his stare on me as hot as the heat from the vents.

"What?"

"Your love of music is admirable."

"I'm glad you think so. Listen to this part."

He seemed to be truly listening, letting the music penetrate and take hold the way only classical music could. He began to drum his fingers against the steering column and I smiled inwardly. There might be hope for him yet.

The piece ended with a dramatic flair and I turned the radio off. "That's enough for today. I don't want to overwhelm you. What'd you think?"

"It wasn't terrible. It was kind of soothing, really."

"Well, that's enough to build upon. Congratulations. You're an American again."

He slowed the car to a stop.

"Look, we're here." He pointed upward.

As he'd done last time, I noticed, he parked his car at the curb and handed his keys to a man waiting at the ready. Did everyone in the city know Ford Harper?

We exited onto 5th Avenue and my mouth went dry as I craned my head back to digest the enormity of the Empire State Building. The sight of it terrified me but also left me in complete awe of how beautiful it was. Having only seen it in pictures or on television, standing next to it now was widely impressive. But the height boggled my mind.

"How tall is this thing?" I inquired. I could already feel my soup and salad making their way north from my belly.

"It's probably better you don't know. Come on."

He placed his hand on the small of my back and ushered me through the doors and into the lobby. The impressive Art Deco entrance welcomed us in and I immediately felt myself get caught up in the historical landmark. Marble floors shone and gold-leafed walls depicted images of the building itself.

"It's beautiful," I breathed. "Are we going straight up?"

"No. There are a couple of exhibits we can see first. I'll start you off easy. I don't want to overwhelm you," he mocked.

"You're on a roll today. You better stop before I start to believe there's a sense of humor in there."

He pushed the button for the elevator and the doors parted. "Get in, Miss Mathers, and let's conquer some fears."