Want (11 page)

“You
are
a big flirt.” I snicker.

I could really like Dave. He reminds me of R.J. and the way we tease each other. He’s so comfortable around me that I bet he has sisters. I just hope he keeps my little crush to himself.

Isaac clears his throat. “Yes, well, it certainly worked. Thanks, Dave. Glad one of us was able to figure out how to help. Um, there’s one more thing. I was hoping you’d stay and play for Julianne before you head back. Like to try some triangulation since you’re here.”

I’m lost. “Triangulation?”

“Yeah. Just want all three of us to play the same piece, one after another, and listen to the differences in interpretation. It’s helpful when you need to figure out how to present a piece.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Kind of like reading the same story from three points of view. Was going to ask my uncle or another student, but Uncle Robert isn’t really able, and I don’t have another student who even comes close to your level. Wouldn’t be a fair comparison. You up for it, Dave?”

“You know I love to show off. And I have a score to settle with Juli. What did you have in mind?”

“Was thinking the Morceaux de fantasie, op. 3.
A lot of different styles in it.
You know that one, or do you need the sheet music?”

Dave makes a disgusted noise. “Nah, I’m good. Who goes first?”

“Well, Juli, of course.” Isaac says this like there’s no question. Then he breaks into a rare grin. “Oh, that’s right, Dave. You don’t believe in
ladies first
.”

He might as well have waved a red cape in front of a bull. Dave sputters, and I wonder
what’s the big deal
?

“I’ll get you for that, ass-wipe.” Dave throws a left jab at Isaac, and they pretend to box. Insults fly back and forth with plenty of laughter in between. Dave ducks and says, “She got hers.”

And suddenly I know what they’re talking about. Normally, I’d be embarrassed, but these two are so funny together that I forget myself and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“I believe it’s proper etiquette for the lady to go first
at least
once.”

I clap my hand over my mouth. They stop. Two blue eyes and two brown ones are suddenly trained on me. Then they both burst out laughing.

“You kiss your daddy with that mouth?” Isaac stands and straightens his shirt.

“Damn, Ike. You sure know where to find ’em.” Dave gives me an appreciative glance.

I blush, and I blush, and I blush some more.

Isaac rolls his eyes and smoothes down his ruffled hair. “I guess we’re technically on the clock, so we better get back to business. Did we ever figure out who plays first?”

“I nominate Dave.” My blush has died down, and I’m curious to hear if he’s as good as Isaac. I doubt it.

“Yeah, Dave, you want to go first?” Isaac says. “Juli’s never heard you play, so you might as well get it over with.” He turns to me. “Hate to admit this, but Dave’s really good. Think you’ll get a lot out of this.”

“Aw, shucks, Ike.”

Dave sits and I notice he doesn’t have to move the bench much. He’s only a bit taller than me. But when he plays, he’s a musical giant. For all his joking around and flirting, he’s a serious pianist, just as good as Isaac and light years beyond me. I don’t so much listen to him as watch the way he squints, his blond brows drawn together in concentration. He purses his lips and then smiles, nodding and shaking his head in time with the music.

I feel Isaac’s eyes on me and look over. He’s watching me watch Dave. It must be to make sure I pay attention. He’s gauging my reaction to the performance. I smile and return to watching Dave. I sneak a few more glances at Isaac, but each time, he stares at his hands.

When Dave’s finished, I clap and give him a quick hug. “Inspiring. I’m next.”

This time, I’m happy to play in front of them. I feel like I can relax and enjoy myself, knowing I’m among friends who want to see me succeed. It’s a nice feeling—one I’m not used to, but one I could
get
used to. My mind wanders during the song. If you’d told me a month ago I’d have two hot, talented NEC graduates in my studio, I’d have laughed you into the Gulf of Mexico.

When I finish, both Isaac and Dave think I’ve improved in just the last hour. Dave is enthusiastic. Isaac says, “Well done.”

At last, Isaac scoots back the bench and sits. He cracks his knuckles and closes his eyes. Dave coughs into his hand, but I distinctly hear
diva
! Isaac pushes up his imaginary glasses with a certain finger. We use the rest of the afternoon and part of the evening to analyze our performances.

***

Dave and Conrad fly back to Boston. I ask Isaac if he’s sorry to see them go.

“Yes. No. They’re like brothers. Spent all of undergrad and graduate school together. But they belong in Boston.”

“Do you miss it?”

He runs his fingers through his hair and sits, elbows on his knees. Without looking up, he says, “Yes. There’re some things I miss.
Lots of things.
But there are other…
things
I don’t miss at all.” He pauses. “Please don’t ask me about it again, Juli. It’s none of your concern, and it won’t affect our rehearsals. I apologize for what happened at Felix’s. Don’t remember much, but I made Dave tell me. It was really unprofessional. Just don’t ask again, all right?”

I’m stunned.
And a little hurt.
Still, that’s the most he’s ever said at once.

“Sure, no problem, Isaac. I didn’t mean to stick my nose in your business. I was just concerned. I’m sorry.”

“So we’re both sorry now. How about we stop being sorry and work on something fun? Something fast.”

“Deal.”

“Actually, I could use your help. Doing Mozart with the symphony in a couple of weeks, and I’d like you to take a listen. Keep stumbling over a couple of parts. You’re the technical expert, so you might figure out the problem.”

“Sure. Wow. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“It’s the Piano Concerto No. 23 in A. The runs are kicking my ass. Tomorrow I’ll bring the score.”

“Um, yeah. That sounds great.”

Part of me thinks he’s patronizing me, but when I see the score the next day, I know he’s not. It looks like someone sneezed black ink on the pages. Mozart is often complicated, but this is a hot mess.

I point at the page. “Okay, right there.
Yeah, in that measure.
That’s where it starts to fall apart, and you don’t get back into it until…here. What fingering are you using?”

He shows me.

“Yeah, that’s your problem. Let me see your right hand.”

He holds it up, and I mirror it with my left to match palm-to-palm.

“See the difference? You’re getting in the way of yourself. Back off a little, and I think you’ll be all right. Like this.”

I show him. And I nail it.

“Isaac, you’re twenty-seven, right?”

“Twenty-eight. Birthday was last week.”

“Oh my gosh, happy birthday! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“No big deal. After twenty-one, they all suck.”

“Whatever. You’re not forgiven for not mentioning it. Let me see your hand again.” I inspect the joints and, sure enough, there’s
tell-tale
swelling. “Isaac, do your fingers get really hot sometimes? Like, hot to the touch?”

“I know what you’re thinking.
Arthritis, right?
Son of a bitch.”

I’m still holding Isaac’s hand when Daddy walks into the studio. Isaac sits at the piano, a fearful expression on his face, like a little boy caught being naughty.

Déjà vu strikes. I’ve seen this before. Except it happened in our kitchen. The boy had brown, shaggy hair, blue eyes, and seemed too tall for his own good. Daddy wore a shirt and tie, just like now, except his face had fewer worry lines. I shouldn’t be surprised when Daddy
crosses his arms and clears his throat—it’s what he did the last time I saw this tableau. I can’t stop the cold tingle that works its way up my back. My acting skills kick in.

“Daddy, can you see this?” I hold up Isaac’s hand, still in mine. “Isaac’s already got arthritis in his knuckles. Isn’t that horrible?”

“Yeah, terrible.
Listen,
have you guys finished that recording? When you called last week, you said you had all the equipment ready.”

Isaac nods. “Yes, sir, it’s in the back of my car. Plan to run acoustics tests tonight, then do the recording tomorrow evening, if Juli’s ready.”

Daddy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah, here’s the thing. I think when you finish the
recording,
we’ll cut the lessons down to three days a week. Then if she gets an audition, we’ll talk about going back up to five. With school and all, five is too much.”

He talks to Isaac like I’m not even here. Like I have no say in this.

“Daddy, I really think—”

“Sorry, Juli. You need to spend time on schoolwork, too. I think it’ll be good for you to back off the piano for just a little while.”

“You think it’ll be good for me? That’s hilarious. Like you have a clue what’s good for me.”

“We’re not doing this right now, young lady. I’ve made my decision. If you want to discuss it, we’ll do it later in private.”

“Of course we will. Wouldn’t want to air our dirty
laundry
.”

Isaac interrupts. “It’s fine, Juli. You’re ready. And your father’s right. You need to think about school, too.”

As if I wasn’t pissed already, hearing Isaac take Daddy’s side certainly does it. “Fine. Run the tests. I’ll be ready tomorrow.”

I bolt out of the studio and up to my room, where I realize I took things out on Isaac again. But at least I kept one promise: I didn’t throw anything at him.

Chapter Eight

My fury at Daddy is still a rolling boil when I come down to breakfast. The planets must be out of alignment, because he sits at the kitchen table with the newspaper and a bagel. He’s usually gone before I drag my sorry butt downstairs.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

“Whatever.” I grab a box of cereal out of the pantry.

“You still mad?”

“You think?”

“Sweetie—”

I slam the box on the counter. “Really? You’re calling me sweetie?”

“Stop it. I know you’re not happy with me, but I have my reasons. I know you think I don’t care. And I’m not around enough to have any right to assert parental authority—”

“Parental authority? Nice legal-speak. I wasn’t aware of any parental authority in this house. Last I checked, you’re a lawyer, she’s half psycho, and I’m pretty much on my own.”

“That’s enough, Julianne. Be mad, I don’t care. But I want you to know I cut back your lessons because I think it’s what’s best. It’s not about money, and it’s not that I don’t want to support you.”

“Then what is it?”

He folds up his newspaper and stands. “You spend an awful lot of time in the studio, that’s all. You need equilibrium in your life.”

“
Equilibrium?
Could you just talk like a normal human being?”

“It means balance.”

“I know what it means!”

“Well, I think you need balance.”

I cock my head. “You know that’s funny, right?”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “If I could fix
things
, I would. I’ve tried. I hope you’re old enough now to see that not everything can be fixed. I don’t have all the answers.
Sweetie
.”

He made his choice a long time ago. He was supposed to choose us—
me and R.J
. But he didn’t. He chose work and Mama, and I can’t forgive that.

“Whatever.”

“Stop it. Look at things from my perspective. Every time I come home, you’re cloistered away in the studio with Isaac Laroche, and I have no idea what goes on in there.”

“What do you mean, ‘what goes on in there’? We rehearse. What do you think? And today we’re supposed to do the recording. Which reminds me, please keep pissing me off, because it helps me play better.”

“I’m not trying to piss you off.”

“No? Insinuating I’m doing things I shouldn’t be—”

“I’m not insinuating that
you’re
doing anything—”

“What? You think Isaac’s doing something wrong? If only.”

“Glad to hear that. It confirms what I always believed.” He fills his travel mug with coffee.

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No, you said it, now you’re going to explain it.”
Oops, that was the wrong thing to say.

“Last I checked
,
you didn’t give me orders, young lady. This conversation is over.” He picks up his mug and shoves the kitchen door open and closed.