Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Gideon glanced back at me as he zipped up his pants. “You can’t return the money when you see Tina. You gave me your word.”
“I won’t.” I stretched out and groaned, hoping I’d get another couple hours of sleep soon.
After putting on his undershirt, Gideon began buttoning his regular shirt. It fit him to a fucking tee. “What kind of recital is it?”
I smiled instinctively, beyond proud of my students. “So, every year, Anthony and I put up lists in the hallway at the first entrance where kids can decide what project they wanna be part of at the end of their semester. Today is my soft rock performance for those who’ve played their instruments three years or longer.” Which meant it was a group of seventeen hormonal teenagers, mostly between the ages of thirteen and fifteen, except for two eleven-year-old prodigies. Among them was David; he and I would share a piano tonight and sing together. He was only on his second year of playing the piano, but he was fucking brilliant already.
Before I knew it, I sat up in bed and rambled to Gideon as he continued getting dressed.
“Three students from Anthony’s saxophone class are joining us too,” I said. “And three boys and three girls from the freshman choir. They’re fucking adorable. You should hear them. Their voices—” I kissed my fingertips.
Gideon grinned tiredly and threw his tie around his neck. “My voice at fourteen was anything but adorable.”
“Right?” I chuckled. “We have one guy who’s worried about his voice cracking, so he’s staying away from anything high-pitched.”
How could he make tying a tie look so pornographic?
“Sounds like a good time,” he responded. “I take it your auditorium will be filled to the max with proud parents.”
Sort of. Our auditorium was tiny; it was one of the reasons we split the end-of-semester recitals into smaller groups, because there were only seats for seventy-five people.
“There’s room for one more if you…you know…have nothing better to do.”
I saw the eager agreement in his eyes before he accepted the invitation verbally, and it made my day. Not only would I see him tonight too, but his genuine interest in my work meant the world to me.
Then I pointed out jokingly that it wasn’t fair that he came to see me in Brooklyn while I knew virtually nothing about his personal life.
“What’s there to share?” He crawled onto the bed and leaned over for a kiss. “I don’t come from a family that hosts Sunday dinners or organizes outdoor concerts with their local church. I see my cousins and their extended families for major holidays—the ones I don’t see at work every day.” He got my lips again before he straightened up. “I have an elderly neighbor who comes over sometimes to pet Chester and recommend a new wine she’s tried, and I have one friend from college with whom I meet up for dinner perhaps twice a year—unless he has to cancel because he has three daughters all active in various sports.” He blew out a breath, grabbing his suit jacket, and he faced me. “Under normal circumstances, I’d be with Claire for dinner most evenings, but I haven’t seen her since our arrangement began. My social life isn’t anything to write home about, so to speak.”
I pinched my lips together and processed everything, and I didn’t have much to say in response, other than that I wanted to replace a few people in his life with some cool people from this little place called Brooklyn.
“What time is the recital tonight?” he asked.
“Seven,” I replied. “First entrance—not the one you used last time. Just follow the herd.”
“I’ll be there.”
Fifteen minutes to showtime and I was stuck to a six-year-old girl whose mother had just called in tears to apologize and say she was gonna be late picking up her daughter. Li’l Maya was a happy sprite who’d joined our kiddie choir this semester as part of her therapy to lose her stutter.
Now she didn’t wanna let go of my hand.
“Five minutes till the doors open, guys!” I hollered. “I want everyone on stage within a minute!”
“And phones off!” Anthony reminded as he appeared with two more chairs. Presumably for the guitarist and bass player. “You want them here?”
I nodded. It looked good. Drums, bass, guitars, and tambourines to the front right, sax players and choir standing in the back, then David and me on the piano to the front left.
We had two younger instructors helping out in the back, and they could deal with the girls’ panicking about makeup and wardrobe. This was about the music; there was no creative theme or papier-mâché scenery to speak of. We’d put up blue velvet curtains and a blue velvet background, and everyone had on a black “TGI Fender” tee. That was enough.
The sax players and a few others walked past Maya and me to do a quick sound check, and David followed shortly after. It was my cue to free up my hands, so I squatted down to Maya’s level.