Stepping out of the Uber, Eleanor looked around. It was late, and the lights from the midnight market illuminated the intersection of Diversey and Kedzie better than any of the dim streetlamps could. She glanced at the surrounding buildings –– none of them showed any indication of being Chicago’s hidden tiki bar.
The car sped away, leaving her stranded in the center of Logan Square. She quickly texted Dania. At the intersection. Where r u?
“Why did you buy a ukulele if you couldn’t play it?”
“I’ve always wanted to learn,” Gwen admitted, shifting to the much easier C chord. “It was only $20, it was on sale. It’s not the world’s best ukulele ––”
She shifted into F, followed by A-minor, but the latter chord had a rogue note stuck into it. Gwen held out the uke to observe her fingers.
“I see that” Eleanor commented.
“That was me,” Gwen said, referring to the note. “Maybe if I can curve my thumb around under the neck…”
The Hanslick Girls 