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It was still a small miracle my angry, obnoxious neighbor hadn’t returned, but I couldn’t keep holding my breath as the afternoon went on.
The next appointment showed up ten minutes early—a young boy heaving a cello that was half a size too large for him. He was with his father and his little sister who couldn’t have been more than two. The man—Jason as he’d introduced himself—let the small child go the moment they were inside, and I winced as I heard a crash from the kitchen, but Jason made no move to check on her.
“Shall we sit?” I asked, gesturing to the chairs.
“Is it going to be like this every week?” Jason asked as his son, Marco, got settled.
I was distracted trying to listen for the small toddler, and I blinked, registering his words. “How do you mean?”
“Here,” he said with a sniff. “Do you have something for Rosie to play with?”
“Sorry, but I wasn’t prepared to entertain small children,” I told him, trying to temper my irritation. I pasted on a smile as I approached the second kitchen chair and laid my hand across the back.
Jason gave me a flat stare. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing to have a few toys.”
There was another crash, which he continued to ignore, and I decided to just get on with the lesson. The day was mostly about assessing the skill of the students so I’d know how to go forward, and the first one was practically a newborn, but Marco held the cello between his legs and placed his fingers on the strings like he’d been doing this for a while.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I could teach beginners, but I never had much patience for them. I offered Marco an encouraging smile. “Go ahead and play me one of your favorites.”
Marco frowned, then bore down on the strings in a rapid chord that took me a moment to recognize as the intro toDoctor Who. I blinked in surprise since the kid seemed a bit young, then I noticed his shoelaces were Tardis blue.
“Well done,” I told him after he was finished. “It sounds like you practice that a lot.”
“Too often,” Jason said, his lip curling. “I’ve told him more than once he’s not going to get anywhere if he keeps his focus on bullshit like that.”
I flinched, but the boy, Marco, just looked resigned. His face told me he was used to his father talking to him that way. I said a small prayer that Jason and his wayward toddler weren’t going to be at every lesson.
“Well, I’m sure we can find a balance that will make everyone happy,” I said. “I actually have some sheet music if you—”
My words were cut off by the wall-trembling whine of electric guitars, and bashing drums, and a screaming man. A second voice sounded off with it, telling me that my neighbor was home and that he was singing along to whatever basement-punk bullshit he was playing.
My face went white-hot with shame. “I’m so sorry,” I told them both, my voice rising above the noise. “My neighbor…We’re just getting used to each other.”
Jason looked furious. “I’ll be calling the center to ask for another tutor who—”
“No!” Marco cried, rising. “I like him. Can’t he just come to our house?”
Jason’s eyes narrowed, but after a beat, he sighed. “Fine. But please know there are security cameras everywhere, so if you even think about touching a single thing…”
Humiliation crested through me. He saw me as some what? Low-life who wouldn’t hesitate to rob them? My place was poor, but my resume was not and neither was my skill level. A piece of me wanted to tell him to fuck off, that my pride could afford one less student to pay the bills, but logic reminded me I didn’t have that luxury. Not yet.
I’d have to speak to the neighbor because there was no way in hell I was going through this again.
“You have my word,” I finally said. “Please let Vanessa know what hours work best for you, and I’ll accommodate them.”
“Oh, I know you will,” Jason said. He walked over to Marco and snapped, “Put that away and let’s get the hell out of here.”
Marco shot me an embarrassed look, but I just met him with a steady gaze and a short nod. I stood back and watched as Marco packed his cello back up, then Jason disappeared around the kitchen wall, returning with his small child who was covered in jam.
I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough that I tasted blood, and I was glad he wouldn’t be able to hear my sigh of irritation over the loud music. Walking to the door, I didn’t bother showing them to the street, instead shutting the door behind them. I pressed my head to the wall. I felt the music as much as I heard it, and it thumped along my skull.
It had been a damn long time since I’d been this angry, especially with a total stranger, but I wanted to take a sledgehammer to the wall and break every piece of audio equipment he had before turning his table saw into dust.
Instead, I forced myself to calm down, then I grabbed my coat and headed for the street. Being that we shared a wall, I didn’t have to guess what apartment he was in, but when I got to the door, it was locked up tight.
Through the small, dirty window I saw a much nicer lobby, and it was obvious the building was far better cared for than Raymond’s. I felt a stab of jealousy. A man like that didn’t deserve niceties or luxuries. He deserved rats and roaches.
I tapped my foot on the stoop and told myself to wait until someone showed up, but after ten minutes, I was freezing cold, and there wasn’t a soul around. It was between giving up and hypothermia, so I walked back into my own icebox and threw my coat down, then stormed into the bathroom for my hairbrush.
