“The third floor belongs to Andrew and his family. I’m quite certain they don’t want Anon living with them. I’m only enduring this because, as a friend, you have asked me for a favor...a big favor.”
“You are...” Jules stopped whatever dramatic declaration he’d been going to make and stormed from the room. He attempted to open the last door on his side of the hall, but discovered it locked. “Key!”
“I’ll ask Andrew if he has the key,” she replied, and returned downstairs to find Andrew, Sondra and Martin missing from the table, along with their plates. She walked into the kitchen. They were eating dessert at the kitchen table. She heard Sondra tell Andrew to “let it be” just as she entered.
She sat down beside Martin and he smiled at her.
“So did the pompous ass at the table say something to cause you guys to retreat to the kitchen, or are you just showing good taste in not wishing to share his company?”
“It was nothing,” Sondra assured her.
Amanda could tell from Andrew’s angry jawline that Anon had done something. “Andrew, tell me what he did.”
Before Andrew could find the words, Sondra spoke. “He simply suggested he would be more comfortable not dining with servants.”
Amanda was up before Sondra could restrain her, and burst into the dining room. She found Jules lecturing Anon in the library.
“Do you have the key?” Jules asked.
“No, because it is very doubtful Anon is staying here.”
“Amanda, you said—”
“That he had to be respectful to the Johnsons. And while you were pleading his case upstairs, it turns out he was insulting my friends. He sent them from the table, declaring them servants.”
Jules cursed beneath his breath.
“They are servants!” Anon yelled in outrage. “It is you who has insulted me!”
“Sorry, Jules, but Anon may not stay here, nor is he allowed to step foot in my house again. And unless he apologizes to the Johnsons right now, he will have to find his own transportation to the opera house, because Andrew won’t drive him.”
“Then we will get another driver!” Anon declared. “I will not dine with servants!”
Jules sighed. “I apologize for even asking.” He pulled Anon to the door, which they had to open all on their own because Amanda snared Andrew’s arm and held him to her side, watching the two leave. Once the door closed, she allowed Andrew to lock it.
“Well, the good news is that you won’t have to drive the bastard tomorrow.”
“I heard, Miss Amanda,” he replied. “Would you like your dessert now?”
“Yes, I would,” she admitted, and joined them in the kitchen for dessert.
“Is Mr. Bavard still welcome, or should I pack his bag and set him out?” Andrew asked.
“Has he been rude to you as well?” she demanded in outrage.
Adam calmly reminded her that she needed Jules.
Andrew hesitated and replied, “He hasn’t been rude to us, but I don’t like the way he gripped your arm and forced you upstairs.”
She waved that off. “He’s just used to bullying his talent. I’m something of a challenge for him.”
“If he gets out of hand, you just scream and I’ll come to your rescue,” Andrew assured her.
“He took me up to my room to tell me I had to invite Anon to live here.”
Even Martin choked at the idea.
“Don’t worry, I told Jules that Anon would have to be respectful to everyone in the house, and if he promised to do so, then I would inquire if there was another bedroom on the second floor. However, since he failed on the first criterion, the second doesn’t matter.”
“Well, for future reference, the third bedroom was used as storage, so while there is a dusty bed in the room, you cannot get to it,” Sondra said.
“Excellent, then there’s no room for him even when Jules makes the pompous ass apologize.”
***
Andrew brought her tea at five in the morning and informed her Jules and Anon were waiting for her in the library.
“Did Anon apologize to you?” she asked.
“He did.”
“Did he sound sincere?”
“He sounded most miserable and sincere,” Andrew said with a slight smile.
“Did something happen to him last night in the dorms?”
“He didn’t say, but his hair is gone.”
“They cut his hair?”
“Shaved off. He’s completely bald...and baldness does not become him.”
A smiled tugged at her lips. “With his vanity, that’s got to be killing him.”
“He appears most devastated. If you want us to ready the third bedroom, we’ll need the whole day to do so.”
“No. You two are not doing extra work for Anon. He may be pitiful at the moment, but he no doubt remains just as horrible as ever. I’ll probably throw him out within hours of letting him in. He can sleep on the settee in Jules’ room. I’m sure it’s more comfortable than his dorm bed.”
She dressed and met Anon in the library. He stood and apologized for his rudeness and asked her if she would reconsider allowing him to stay. “You have no idea how horrible those bastards can be!”
She patted Anon’s back. “Actually, I do. You can stay here if you’re willing to share a room with Jules. Hopefully you won’t mind sleeping on the settee.”
Anon clearly did mind, and looked at Jules in outrage.
“Amanda, is there not a third bedroom?” Jules asked.
“There is not. The third room is used for storage. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to share a room. Unless, Jules, you wish to go to a hotel and give up your room to Anon.”
His eyes narrowed. “I do not.” He glared at Anon. “It’s either the settee or back to the dorms.”
“I am not returning to the dorms,” Anon assured him.
“Then it’s the settee.” Then he turned his glare on her. “If the addition of Anon at the breakfast table is inconvenient, I will share my plate.”
Amanda laughed at the image of Jules sharing a plate of food with anyone. “I’m certain we have enough for one more.”
She led them to breakfast, where she was happy to see six plates set. She’d been afraid Andrew and his family might retreat to the kitchen, and she couldn’t afford to have such a precedent set, or Anon would believe he could rule them all.
Anon was very polite to everyone during breakfast. Every time he reached to brush back his gorgeous, blond hair and discovered it missing, his face would pucker as if he were seconds from bursting into tears.
Amanda glanced at the clock. She hated to leave them unsupervised in her house, but Pinchot was subbing for her first class professor and would have her head if she was late. She gave Andrew permission to throw them out if they were rude to anyone and ran out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Amanda landed in her chair seconds before the bell, and Pinchot raised his eyebrows at her. Knowing he loved gossip, she wrote the reason for her lateness on a blank composition paper and handed it to him.
He read her note and laughed, which attracted everyone’s attention. His smile instantly disappeared, and he handed out copies of Bresnan’s composition. Then he sang it to the class.
Amanda was impressed by his ability to mimic the sounds of instruments. She could hear them well enough in her head. However, to create their unique sounds with her voice—that was quite beyond her ability.
When they’d finished ripping the composition to pieces, Pinchot asked her if she had yet practiced her aria today, and when she said she had not, he insisted she sing it for the class a cappella. Several of the students groaned.
She hated singing in front of a hostile audience, and thus focused on Pinchot.
“Sing to the class, Miss Carrington, not me,” he chided.
“Then will you be so kind as to stand at the back, so I will have one friendly face?”
“I have a friendly face?” he challe
nged, looking very stern at the present.
“Comparatively, yes.”
He frowned at her but walked to the back of the class. “It’s a sad commentary when you cannot find a friendly face among students of music.”
Amy looked very pleased with his call-down.
Focused on Pinchot, Amanda sang the aria, determined to have no flaws. She smiled at the looks of shock on her fellow students’ faces when she finished. She sat down and waited for the inevitable critiques.
“Comments? What was wrong with that performance?”
No hands rose.
“There was something wrong. What was it?” her professor insisted.
That began a long list of guesses, all of which Pinchot declared wrong. He stood before Bresnan. “What was wrong with her performance?”
“I don’t know, it sounded correct to me.”
“Correct? Did it sound correct to the rest of you?” All but Amy nodded it did.
“What did it sound like to you, Amy?”
“It sounded perfect,” she replied. “And if I were given a lifetime to practice, I couldn’t sing it half so well.”
Amanda turned around in shock to verify it was truly Amy who had spoken those words.
Amy glared at her. “I don’t like you personally, but you can sing.”
“Thank you,” Amanda replied, and turned around, very pleased with her win.
“Amy is correct, the song was perfect,” Pinchot said.
“But you said there was something wrong,” Bresnan reminded him.
“There was. She sang perfectly, and while all of you looked stunned, there was no joy, no happiness, no signs you love hearing perfect music at all! A room of tone-deaf street-trash would have appreciated the aria more.”
“They’d no doubt like the singer more as well,” Davy observed.
“This is ridiculous! What is it about Miss Carrington that bothers you?” he demanded.
Amanda grimaced. This was certainly not how she wished to start her morning.
Most of the class looked to Amy to answer his question. “There are so many things, I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Name five,” he suggested.
“Well, she is arrogant and rude...”
“To whom, precisely?”
“She was very rude to our history teacher. She’d come late to class and cheat on tests. Then she got the FBI involved when he tried to get her kicked out of school. She also stole Beth’s boyfriend. She so thinks her shit doesn’t stink just because she lives in luxury next door and wears designer clothes. Also, she treats us like we’re silly children and she’s so mature in comparison.”
“Anyone else?”
“She doesn’t think rules apply to her,” one of the Europeans added.
“She’s a freshman and shouldn’t be here,” another added.
“Wait, two days ago the accusation was that she was too old to be here,” he reminded them.
“That too,” Davy replied.
“She never goes out with us to the bars,” one of the Europeans said.
“She never hangs around with us at all,” another European added.
Pinchot looked at Amanda. “Anything you wish to say?”
“No,” she replied.
“No?”
“Well, everything Amy said was either untrue or a gross distortion of the truth. I’ve no idea what rules I’m not obeying, and I don’t like bars, nor do I hang around with people who don’t like me, and I’m astounded, given the anti-American sentiment at this school, that any of the European students would think I would try to hang out with them.” She looked at the guy who’d made that declaration. “If you want me to talk to you, you have to make the first move, because I’m not approaching someone who hates Americans just on principle.”
He looked momentarily confused. “You’re American? But your accent is perfect!”
“I work on improving my French every day,” she replied. “And thank you for the compliment.” She looked at Pinchot. “I’m not certain why we had to discuss this. Nothing is going to change. Beth’s jackals think whatever Beth tells them to think, and the Europeans hate Americans, and I don’t have time to deal with all this nonsense, so yes, I live in a nice house with really nice people so I don’t have to find fish in my bed and spit in my food.”
Pinchot sighed and threw up his hands. “Well, I tried.”
The way he said it made her feel as though she had failed him, which upset her greatly. When class was over, she attempted to talk to him, but he ordered her to her next class.
Fortunately, her next period was her free time, because she had a great need to cry. She found her way to the giant windows with the chairs and sat down. It wasn’t her fault Beth had turned everyone against her, and it was certainly not her fault the European students hated Americans. Nor could she blame them. If the only people she had met were Beth and her jackals, she’d hate Americans too.
She didn’t bother trying to stop the tears. God, she was thirty-seven years old and somehow hanging around with these children had turned her into a child all over again, with all the same miseries she’d endured the first time around.
“Adam,” she whispered, pulling out her phone.
“I’m here, love,” he declared in his warm British tones.
“Pinchot has decided it’s my fault that I’m universally hated.”
“Not universally, and it’s not your fault. What he decided was that you weren’t inclined to subjugate yourself sufficiently to charm your way back into your peers’ good graces.”
“They aren’t my peers.”
“Now you’re sounding like Anon,” he teased.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I meant they are children and I’m an adult. It’s very hard for an adult to subjugate herself to a child.”
“I wish I could hold you.”
“So do I,” she said, and burst into tears.
Then familiar arms encircled her and held her tight. She looked up, and Mark covered her face with kisses.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” she reminded him.
“I don’t care.” He pulled her from her chair, sat down and pulled her onto his lap. “You need a hug.”
“I do,” she admitted, and willingly returned to his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Five
By the end of Amanda’s free period, she was ready to go back and face the irrational, cruel world. Perhaps it was her imagination, but all her professors treated her, as if she were a spoiled child who had tossed a priceless vase in anger.
At noon she escaped home, in need of friendly, supportive faces. Instead she found Jules and Bastion waiting for her in the library. They had that same expression of disappointment, except Jules looked angry rather than let down.
Bastion noticed Jules’ barely contained rage and insisted he should talk to Amanda alone. Jules snapped, “That is perhaps best,” before storming upstairs.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked Bastion.
“Yesterday, after you sang. Did you strike the people who attempted to congratulate you backstage?”
“No, but I tried to keep away from them so I wouldn’t end up as sick as a dog.”
“They say you pushed and struck at them,” Bastion challenged.
“Andrew may have pushed one or two,” she admitted. “But he was only trying to keep me safe. And I won’t scold him for doing so. Someone in that crowd poisoned Anon, and would have poisoned me if given the opportunity.”
He sighed.
“It’s true!” she insisted.
“If Jules drops you as a client, I want you to seriously consider returning here to study composition,” Bastion said.
“Is Jules going to drop me?” she asked in shock.
“Perhaps not today, but I think it inevitable. As charming as you can be, you choose not to play well with your peers, and that inability to get along with others is going to get you blacklisted.”
Suddenly she understood Pin
chot’s disappointment that morning. “First period was a test to see if I’d make an effort to put things right with my peers.”
“Yes, and you failed dismally. In fact, you made it worse. Those who were on the fence are now decidedly set against you.”
She leaned into his chest. “I’m sorry. I’ve let you down.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “It is not only me you’ve let down. It’s Pinchot, Richart, Simon, Jules, Jacque...and yourself.”
When she heard Jacque’s name, she knew what the punishment would be. “I won’t be allowed to sing the aria now, will I?”
“It does not look hopeful. Jacque needs you to apologize for your abominable behavior. And you cannot apologize for Andrew. There was no mention of him in the complaint. It was only you pushing and shoving them away as they tried to congratulate you for a job well done.”
“That isn’t true. You can ask Andrew—” She stopped talking, for she could see she was only upsetting him.
“As I just explained, you would need to take the blame and apologize for your behavior. You would also have to attend the rehearsals from early morning to evening and never complain your day is wasted for five minutes. You would do so without the presence of Andrew. You would have to accept food and water provided you by the cast and crew...”
“I don’t think Adam will agree.”
“You are correct. Your friend, who I have learned from Jules has control of security arrangements, adamantly refuses to allow you to behave like a normal singer.”
“I’m sorry Don Carlos’ aria won’t be sung. It deserves to be heard.”
“Then you are not willing to try?” Bastion asked in surprise.
“Try what?”
“To convince your friend there is no need to overprotect you. It is possible you will become sick during rehearsal on the first day, but no one has ever died from the purge!”
“You want me willingly to allow myself to be poisoned?”
“You will not be harmed, only humbled.”
She sighed. “I will talk to him, but if he says no, then the answer is no.”
“Well, talk to him tonight. If this catastrophe is to be averted, it must be done tomorrow.” Bastion set her aside so he could stand.
Birth of Adam (Artificial Intelligence Book 2) Page 18