Still Life with Strings

  “They want me to play a song with them. Just one song. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No, not at all.” I smile. “Go knock ’em dead.”

  He gives me a small smile in return and then goes back to join the band. The violinist hands over his instrument to Shane and then retreats into the audience. The band starts up, and it takes me a second to realise they’re playing a modern song. Apart from his attempt at David Bowie in my bedroom, I haven’t yet heard Shane play a non-classical piece. I recognise it immediately as “Just the Way You Are” by Bruno Mars. The beat of the drum fills my ears, purple sound waves drifting up to the ceiling. The violin is like the voice, the rest of the instruments the backing track.

  Whoa, he looks hot up there. He catches my eye then and doesn’t stop looking.

  Feeling uncomfortable under his attention, I try to fix my stare on the other players, but it’s no use. I can still sense his gaze on me. Some people get up and start dancing to the catchy beat, some even sing the lyrics. It’s the kind of song that you can never feel sad after.

  Once it’s over, Shane accepts some applause from the room before returning the violin to its owner.

  “That was amazing,” I exclaim when he reaches me and sits back down. “I didn’t know you played modern songs, too.”

  He shrugs, his eyes alight. I’ve noticed he always seems more energised after playing, more centred. “I learn them sometimes to take a break from my usual repertoire.” Pausing, he looks like he’s considering whether or not to tell me something. “My counsellor encouraged me to learn that one.”

  It’s news to me that he sees a counsellor, but I don’t want to pry about it. “The Bruno Mars song?”

  He grimaces. “She said I should learn some happy songs. There was a period of about six months where all I could play was funerary music.”

  This piece of information concerns me, but I file it away for later. Deciding to make light of it instead, I whisper, “Did you go through a Goth phase, Shane?”

  He laughs. “No, I was just sad.”

  I venture a guess. “Because of Mona?”

  “She was a part of it. Anyway, once I agreed to move on, I was glad. Funerary violin is beautiful, but it’s also pretty depressing.”

  “I can imagine. So, have you had fun tonight?”

  He grins. “Yes, in the most bizarre way possible.”

  “Will you come again? Get to know the people.” I nod over to the band. “You’ve already made some new friends.”

  “I’ll come again, but only if you’re here.”

  “I’m here every few weekends. Next time I’ll bring you up onto the roof. It’s great to just sit in the dark and look at the night sky, see how many stars you can count, see if you can count any at all.”

  Shane doesn’t say anything, and when I look at him his attention is focused intently on my mouth. He looks into my eyes then, and I get caught. I hadn’t realised until now just how close we are, just how cosy we must look sitting huddled together on these pillows.

  He swallows hard and says, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Promise not to get mad at me or not want to be my friend anymore?”

  Wary now, I reply, “I’ll try not to.”

  He moves even closer, taking my hand into his and smoothing his fingers over my knuckles. It feels nice.

  “When we’re around each other there’s this…tension.” He pauses for a second.

  Yeah, he doesn’t need to explain further, because I know exactly what he’s talking about.

  “It’s fucking agony, Jade, not to touch you,” he continues, like he’s baring his soul. “And I know you’re not interested in a relationship, so I was thinking we could have an arrangement.”

  I raise an eyebrow, not liking where I can see this heading.

  “‘An arrangement?’” I question. He stares at me and I can’t take the atmosphere, so I have to crack a joke. “I hope you’re not suggesting a Pretty Woman scenario here?”

  The ghost of a smile touches his lips. “You know that’s not what I’m suggesting.” He draws closer so that he can whisper into my ear. “I want to be inside you again.”

  I whimper, and his tongue flicks over the shell of my ear, turning my entire body to jelly.

  “You want us to be fuck buddies,” I say, my voice barely audible.

  “I prefer the term ‘friends with benefits.’ I have so much respect for you, Jade, and I promise to treat you like a queen, but I need you. I’ll be your friend, but with more…”

  “Shane, I…”

  “Please don’t say no.”

  “I have to think about this.”

  He pulls me to him, resting his forehead against mine and exhaling. “Okay.”

  “I’ll let you know…I mean, I think we need to call it a night.” I draw away, but he grips my hand.

  “I’ll drive you home.” His eyes flick back and forth between mine as though trying to decipher my thoughts. “Jade, tell me I haven’t fucked up.”

  “You haven’t fucked up.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  And with that he pulls us both up to stand, leading me from the room and out of the building.

  Fourteen

  The next morning I’m chatting with my neighbour Barry a couple of houses down from mine when I see Pete leaving for school. I say my quick goodbyes to Barry before cutting down a side alley that I know will bring me directly onto Pete’s path.

  “Hello, stranger, fancy meeting you here,” I say as I fall into step beside him.

  His sleepy eyes drift to me as he shakes his head. “What do you think you’re doing, Jade?”

  “Taking a stroll,” I answer with a shrug. “Thought I’d keep you company while I’m at it.”

  A sigh. “I know what you’re up to.”

  He’s not getting mad at me, which is a good sign. “Uh, yeah. Like I said, I’m taking a stroll.”

  “Herding me to school, more like.”

  I let out a big long chuckle and smack him lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, you teenagers are such suspicious creatures.”

  He doesn’t say anything, and we continue walking. Once we’re around the corner from his school, I wave him off. He takes a few steps before turning back around.

  Scratching at his head, he asks, “Does your friend still want to give me music lessons?”

  I’m surprised he’s asked this, and given the open-ended way I left things with Shane last night, I’m not certain what’s going to happen between us, but I’m sure he’ll still work with Pete if I ask him to.

  “Of course.”

  “And he’s not just doing it because you’re making him?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Okay, well, you can tell him I’ll do it.”

  Wow, that was easier than I thought it’d be. I imagined I’d be in for at least another couple weeks of sulking before he came around. I salute him, then turn on my heel and head home.

  Last night Shane dropped me off at my house, walking me to the door and giving me a long, question-filled hug. We parted ways, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. I hardly got a wink of sleep, which is why I was up early enough to make sure Pete got himself to school this morning.

  When I think about what Shane’s asked of me, my entire body screams that it’s the worst idea in the history of Jade Lennon. And believe me, there have been some bad ones. Every part of me wants to be with him, but at the same time every part of me says that I won’t be able to keep my emotions from getting involved.

  At around lunchtime I get a text from him politely asking how my morning went. Politely skirting the real question. Even seeing his words on the screen of my phone makes me feel all anxious, and I can’t bring myself to reply. Later on I arrive at work and check the roster to find I’m on the front of house box office. This makes me relax a little, because Shane won’t be able to come see me like he does at the bar.

/>   Midway through my shift, Lara ventures over from her station in the merchandise shop to slide a walnut whip through my window slot.

  “What’s this for?” I ask with a grin.

  “You look a bit down in the dumps today. I thought chocolate would be a good cure.”

  Really, this girl has a heart of gold.

  “You had the right idea. Thanks,” I say before she moves out of the way so I can deal with my next customers. There’s a show about to start in fifteen minutes, so the lobby is packed with people queuing to get to their seats. I’ve barely even noticed what’s on since I’ve been in such a daze all day.

  “We have tickets reserved for collection,” comes a vaguely familiar voice as my next customer steps up to the booth. I slide the walnut whip under my seat and glance up to find Mirin standing before me with a man I presume to be her husband beside her. He’s got the same brandy-coloured eyes as Shane, but that’s the only resemblance.

  My heart pounds. God, why did she have to come to this booth? I feel anxious enough right now as it is, since last night her son had the good grace to proposition me with an arrangement my brain refuses to work its way around.

  “Oh, hello, Mrs Arthur. Are the tickets under your name?”

  “No, my husband’s. Reginald Arthur.”

  “Right,” I say as I flick through the reserve drawer. Mirin doesn’t bother to introduce me to Reginald, which leads me to believe she doesn’t want him to know me. Finding the tickets, I slip them through to her. All the while she’s staring down at me like I’m a slice of stale bread someone’s just put on her plate. She swipes the tickets up into her talons, I mean, hands, and away they both go.

  Thank fuck for that being short and sweet.

  Once the show starts, I join Lara in the break room to enjoy my walnut whip with a cup of tea. Lara has one, too, and we both chow down in contented silence. I always get a craving for sugar after a long day. She tells me how pleased she is with April as her child minder, and I’m pleasantly surprised that my sister’s actually taken to the work. I’ve even seen a marked improvement in her mood, since she’s now got a purpose and some regular money in her pocket. And there haven’t been any older men calling to the house, which is a plus.

  Now it seems I’ve just got Project Pete to contend with.

  Towards the end of our break, my supervisor comes and asks me if I’ll prepare the refreshments for the orchestra’s dressing room during the interval. The girl who’d been on duty there had to go home sick. I tell him I’d be glad to, but all the while I’m cursing him out in my head. Making my way to the bar, I find a rider of requested beverages, mostly water, teas, and fruit juices.

  The members of the symphony have this great big dressing room with mirrors and bright lighting, like backstage on a Broadway musical. It’s basically a giant room with long lines of tables and mirrors, each one belonging to a different musician.

  I know exactly which one belongs to Shane because he probably got the seat of the concertmaster who left. Checking the rider, I see all he asked for was a bottle of water. I quickly place it on his table and move on. At the rate I’m going, I won’t be done by the time the interval starts, given I have almost a hundred people to cater to.

  Normally there are two workers to do this task, but we must be short-staffed tonight, which means I’m all by my lonesome. I can hear the recognisable melody of the William Tell Overture coming to a close, and then the musicians are making their way to the dressing room. I’ve still got about twenty tables to do, so I hurry up.

  Water.

  Coffee.

  Ginger tea.

  Water.

  As I approach the next table, I pause and glance up because somebody is standing in my way. Shane’s deep eyes look into mine, and I swallow hard.

  “You never answered my texts,” he says as he studies me.

  We’re nowhere near his dressing table, so he obviously sought me out. I move by him and set another water down on a table.

  “Sorry, I’ve been busy with work, and I left my phone in my bag in the staffroom. Was it anything important?” I say, trying my best to be casual.

  Shane sighs. “So this is how you’re going to be, huh?”

  I flinch as I transfer more refreshments onto dressing tables. There are people moving by all around us, which makes the situation even more stressful.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’re acting all flustered and pretending like you’ve forgotten what we talked about last night.”

  “I’m not pretending,” I say.

  I’ve just finished with the last table, and a female cellist grins at me appreciatively, taking a sip from her orange juice.

  “And I haven’t forgotten, Shane,” I continue quietly. “I’m still considering things.”

  We reach the door leading out of the dressing room, but he puts his arm in my way to stop me. “Don’t freeze me out. I’m dying here,” he pleads, and the sound of his voice makes my stomach clench with guilt for making him wait, despite the fact it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet.

  I set the wheelie tray aside and give him my eyes, placing my hand on his arm in a gentle grip. “I’m not going to do that. I just need more time.”

  He stares at me seriously, and he must see something that puts his mind at ease, because his body loses some of its tension. I can feel eyes watching us through the dressing room door, but I ignore them. I never read any rules about not being allowed to have a personal relationship with a member of the orchestra. We work in the same building, but you wouldn’t exactly call us co-workers, so I don’t really care about people assuming things.

  A long stretch of silence elapses between us before I say, “By the way, Pete’s agreed to the music lessons.”

  A smile splits his lips, a real one, too. He genuinely wants to help my little brother. “That’s great, Jade. I’ll let you know when I’ve figured out which day will be best. We’ve got a lot of shows coming up, and I haven’t fallen into a proper routine yet.”

  “That’s cool. Call me when you know,” I say, moving to go by him. “I need to get back to work now, okay?”

  Reaching out, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear that’s fallen free of my bun. “Okay,” he breathes, and then he goes back inside the dressing room. I hurry to restock my tray, and then I return to see if any of the musicians need refills. I’m busy, but I can feel Shane watching me from where he sits quietly sipping on his water.

  The other violinist, Avery, has the dressing table right beside his, and she’s chatting away to him. I wonder if he’s even listening because his eyes haven’t once left me. All of a sudden my white blouse feels too tight, my black skirt too restricting. He has this way of making me feel stripped bare even when I’m fully clothed.

  It’s customary for me to do the rounds of the entire room, and when I get to Shane he says yes to another bottle of water. I know for a fact he has no intention of drinking it. He’s just doing this so that we’ll have to interact. Avery doesn’t want anything else and turns to fix her hair in a French twist.

  When I hand Shane his second water, his fingers purposely graze mine, his stare hot, and I practically trip over my own feet to get moving on to my next stop. I can’t be certain, but I think I see his lips curve in a smirk.

  Soon the interval is over, and it’s time for the performance to resume. I couldn’t be happier for the reprieve.

  When I’m helping with closing up later on, I see Shane with his parents and a few other people in the lobby, all chatting in a group. Everything about them screams money, from the clothes they wear to the subtle gestures they make as they talk. Lara shoots me a funny annoyed look from across the way, where she’s closing up on merchandise. Clearly, she wants all the stragglers to push on so that we can close up properly and get home to our much-needed beds.

  I keep feeling my eyes drifting shut due to my lack of sleep last night, so I have to continually blink to stay focused. I cash out my till and th
en go to assist Lara in fixing the merchandise shelves. Straining my ears, I try to hear what Shane and the people he’s with are talking about, but they’re too far away.

  When he catches me looking, he says something to his dad before leaving the group and walking toward me. Great. I brought this on myself by staring at him like a love-hungry teenager and I know it. Still, I busy myself with the DVD shelf and try to pretend I don’t know he’s standing right behind me.

  “Busy night?” he asks, one hand resting on the shelf above my head.

  “No busier than usual. Did you play well?”

  “I did. You didn’t get a chance to come see?”

  I shake my head and give him a little smile while continuing to stack DVDs. “I rarely do. I’m hardly ever on duty in the auditorium. They mostly put me on the bar or the ticket booths.”

  Shane rubs his jaw. “Yeah, I noticed it’s always the old matrons who usher.”

  I grin now and whisper, “They’ve got it all sewn up. They’re like the concert hall mafia. Ushering is the easiest job. Oh, and don’t ever call them old matrons to their faces. Otherwise, you’ll be sleeping with the fishes.”

  Shane moves closer, chuckling low. “I’ll remember that.”

  His hand strokes my neck. I gasp and step away. “You might be off duty, but I’m still working,” I remind him, not meeting his eyes.

  “It must have slipped my mind,” he mutters, his eyes boring holes into the side of my head.

  His mother calls him back over, and he whispers goodbye before leaving me. I let out a long breath and look to Lara, who’s standing several feet away and who obviously observed everything just now.

  “Ben’s right. He really does want to stick his Channing in your Tatum,” she says on a giggle.

  I feign throwing a DVD at her head and laugh at how catastrophically badly she just messed up that sentence.

  ***

  “I want you out of this house right now,” I demand, standing in the kitchen doorway in my nightgown.

  It’s nine o’clock in the morning and Patrick, the good-for-nothing father of my three younger siblings is sitting at the table. There’s a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him and a half-smoked cigarette dangling between his dirty fingers. I hate it when all his other options have dried up, and he decides to come and burden himself on us.