Nine Volt Heart

by Annie Pearson

  During my prep period, when I was not engaged in preparing for anything except despair, Angelia came into my classroom.

  “Susi, what the hell happened?”

  “I found the wrong Jason at that music club.”

  “Then kept him all weekend? You took him to the trustee meeting and—oh lord, you took him to the symphony with Randolph’s grandparents. And to lunch with Freeman Lukas.”

  “He’s a musician. He fit in with everything. People liked him—that is, everyone but Randolph.”

  “Did you sleep with him? Oh god, you did.”

  “I don’t know how it happened. We were singing together. Then—”

  “You sang with him? You went to bed? What else does this guy have going? Can he walk on water?”

  “No, but he is talented. Paul Harris knew him from when he went to school here. Look at this yearbook. It’s his junior class picture.”

  “He looks young for you.”

  “This was twelve years ago.”

  “That’s his name? Did you ask Rosemary or the career counselor for his file?”

  “Angelia, I couldn’t do that. It would be prying.”

  “I could. I’ll go ask now. You should Google him on the Internet.”

  “Stop it. He wants to bring a friend over tonight, to convince me that he is not a psycho-killer.”

  “He is at least a master of the six degrees of separation. Can I drop by for a peek at what it takes to get you into the sack after all this time?”

  “It is not going to happen again.”

  “He wasn’t any good in bed? Too bad. He seems cute, but those can be the worst.”

  “It was the most incredible night of my life. Yet I don’t trust what happened. It went from dream to nightmare in a heartbeat.”

  “So he was good in bed? From this track-meet picture, it looks like he has long fingers. We both know what that means.”

  “Angelia—”

  Rosemary, the school secretary, knocked and came in with a sheaf of papers in her hands.

  “Susi, Randolph asked me to print out your grant application and mail it. Everything seems to be in order, but there are three pages that need signing. And I need a copy of the 501-C-3 information for your institute.”

  “Show me where to sign.”

  “Here and here. This other page is the request for background checks for you and Angelia and one of the instructors. You each have to sign.”

  “The other instructor isn’t in town this week. He said he would sign, but I don’t know how to find him.”

  Angelia said, “I’ll sign it. I wonder why the check they did on us when we started teaching isn’t enough.”

  “You can’t sign, Angelia.”

  “Susi, Rosemary, you two close your eyes and don’t look. Rosemary sees so many forged signatures every morning when the excuse slips come in, she won’t mind turning a blind eye to one more.”

  ~

  I did manage to pull myself together to call my friend Andrew at Berklee to beg him once again about Zak’s admission.

  “You didn’t get my phone message?”

  “Andrew, you know I’m bad about the telephone.”

  “Yeah, and you can’t do email. I should have used Pony Express. The admission office sent a letter to the boy’s house this morning. He’s in.”

  “Thank heavens. You don’t know what this means to me.”

  “I won’t be so crude to ask if it makes a difference in our friendship.”

  “You are such a sweetheart, Andrew. Now I have to go call Joseph at Juilliard for that girl I told you about.”

  “The soprano?”

  “Yes. She got all of her paperwork in on time. All of her recommendations and her audition were stellar. She still needs to be convinced she can do it. She’s eighteen, but you’d think she was thirteen. She’s too sheltered at home, and they haven’t prepared her to let go.”

  “Maybe tossing her into the deep end of the pool wouldn’t be right for her. I can’t believe you spend your time this way, Susi. Come back East again and play with us big boys.”

  “It turns out that I like working with kids. You heard what I’m up to?”

  “Yes, and I hope it works for you. However, you of all people can swim in the big pond.”

  “That was before. I’m better off here. I need to be in Seattle, because of my father, if nothing else.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s as active as ever, however hard it is for him to get around. I just wish he could have stayed at home.”

  “It’s trite to say, but it’s part of growing up; seeing your parents grow old.”

  “I’ve had enough lessons in growing up for a while. I’d like a reprieve. Thank you so much for your help, Andrew. Will I see you out here soon?”

  “Next fall when we do auditions.”

  “I will be right here, trying to find the best for you ahead of time.”

  “I still love you, Susi.”

  “Save it for your wife, Andrew. You know better.”

  “I don’t much like being grown up, either.”

  35 ~ “You and Me and the Sea between Us”

  JASON

  “JASON, BUDDY, I’VE BEEN trying to reach you all day.”

  “Hi, Karl. I switched off my phone when we went into the studio.”

  “You also told the chick who answers the phone not to put me through because you’re too busy.”

  “She’s a woman, not a chick. Are you in the office early tomorrow, Karl? I want to come talk about the foundation thing. Do you have time?”

  “If it’s before eight-thirty. Can you be here that early? How did work go today?”

  “Early is easy. Work is outstanding. Toby and Ian got tight on the new material right away. We should be able to wrap up this little task quickly. Look, I want to get on to the next thing right now. The studio is open mornings until July, so I reserved it and said you’d work out the details. Can you? And can you get me a temp like we had last year? Can you find that same woman, Martha Cooper? She was excellent.”

  “She works full-time in my office now. I need—”

  “Lend her to me for a couple of months. If she can’t start today, tell her tomorrow is fine. I need her no later than eight every morning. Can you have your guys arrange to get the masters in the vault duplicated? I want to spend a little studio time packaging live material from the past years. Then I need—”

  “Jason, slow down. Contract for studio and masters, yes. Admin, OK, if Martha wants to do it. Otherwise, I’ll have her find and train a temp.”

  “How do I hire someone under eighteen? Can you take care of that? I remember having to sign something when I first worked, but that was for playing in bars, and I don’t need that. Martha should arrange the food right away. Lunch was inedible. There is other stuff I need and several people I have to contact, so I’ll email that list to her, OK?”

  “Fantastic. Say, Jason, what are you doing this summer? Are you going on the road after all?”

  “Yes, of course we’ll be on the road. Except part of the time I’m staying here and teaching guitar.”

  “Ephraim Vance would like to talk to you. You need to come in so you can meet while I’m here with you.”

  “I saw Ephraim Saturday. What more does he have to say?”

  “He wants to help work out the final problem with Dominique. Do you want to talk about it now or wait till tomorrow?”

  “I was in a good mood but it’s gone now. So you might as well tell me.”

  “She claims a stake in the band name, because of the recording contracts you signed while you were married to her. The record company has already booked a tour for Stoneway this summer, and you need to come along. Otherwise, she will take the name to tour and—”

  “Twist the shiv when you stick it in, Karl. Where did she get this idea?”

  “Ian and Toby have already agreed to give up their rights if she’s part of Stoneway. Of course, Hakeem signed off interest when he
left last year.”

  “So what’s she going to do? Go to Disneyland and pick boys off the performance stage?”

  “The contract says that Stoneway does a tour this summer, so—”

  “Frickin’ hell, Karl. I spent the last dozen years building that band’s reputation. How can Ian and Toby just walk away? They didn’t say a word today. Good god, she cannot take the band’s name, and she cannot come on the road with us.”

  “Actually, looking at your contract, she can. Stop breathing like that into the phone. Do you want to talk about it now or tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow. The break is over. We want to work more before we go across town.”

  “Did you think again about what I said this morning, Jason? About getting legal agreements?”

  “Forget that. Just concentrate on getting me out from under the frickin’ circus with Dominique.”

  “Did you at least get little Sheila’s last name?”

  “It’s Susi. No, I forgot to ask. We got off track when it turned out she doesn’t know who I am.”

  “Oh shit and firecrackers, Jason. How could she not know? She’s just not admitting it.”

  “She mistook me for a friend’s cousin, and she doesn’t know Jason Taylor from Adam—Ant, Faith, or Duritz. Or Ryan, for that matter. She doesn’t know anyone living in this century, except half the Seattle Symphony and all the rich old men on Capitol Hill. I think she’s a time traveler from another dimension.”

  “You have to explain your situation to her.”

  “I’m going to wait for a day or two. She likes me for who I really am. You can’t imagine the thrill.”

  “Who you are turns out to be a target for vituperative women.”

  “One woman. Though I still don’t know what Dominique has to vituperate over. She’s the one who damaged me.”

  “Tell your little Susi what’s up with you. As your attorney, I’m advising you, it doesn’t work out like Ernest Lubitsch comedies.”

  “Two days. Maybe three. I want to enjoy this. Just for a moment.”

  “Please tell me you used a jacket, Jason. At least tell me that. As your attorney, I—”

  “You were a lot more fun before you passed the bar exam, Karl. When you used to sit in with us and play music all night. Why don’t you come play with us again?”

  “Perhaps. Someone, however, has to be the grownup. I need to call my architect right now and tell him the budget for my house is larger than I thought. I can make it big enough that my wife won’t even have to see me when I’m there. That should make her happy.”

  “I’m going to audition a new singer with Ian and Toby. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Who’s the singer?”

  “Susi, of course.”

  36 ~ “I’m Gonna Sit on the Porch and Pick on My Old Guitar”

  SUSI

  IT WAS ALMOST EIGHT when I got home, though with the spring-time switch to daylight savings time, the sky still held a vague pale glow. Randolph had taken me to dinner in Leschi with his grandparents, to finish the discussion aborted by my ridiculous emotionalism on Saturday evening. His grandfather was gracious about it, though Randolph was less so.

  Over dinner, Randolph’s grandmother kept commenting on that nice young man, while, Randolph looked like he had blood pressure problems. Since I’d gotten no sleep the night before, all I could think about was foregoing consciousness in the comfort of my bed.

  However, Paul Harris sat on my front porch with Zak Lukas, their voices drifting out through the trees in the dusky light. Zak appeared to be beating on the railing with mallets. Paul greeted me with a hug and a kiss on each of my temples.

  “I misunderstood who you were bringing by yesterday, Susi.”

  Zak said, “Jason called and asked me to come over. My mom said I had to, because she wants me to do your school thing this summer. Is it true that Jason will be working with your program? I’d jump for the chance to work with him.”

  “Susi!”

  Jason hailed me from the road below, where he had emerged from a minivan and was walking up to my door with two men.

  “This is my friend Ian,” he said, pointing to the taller of the two men, who had a shaved head and looked vaguely Finnish. Or Scots.

  “Cynthia is in Minneapolis until the end of the week,” Ian said, nodding rather than shaking hands because he was loaded down with instrument cases. He had a piercing look, as if he mistrusted me. “Otherwise, she would love to meet you.”

  “Ian brought along his friend Les Paul,” Jason said. “Plus a twelve-string Martin and my National Steel guitar. Oh, and this is Toby.” He pointed to his smaller, bearded friend.

  “Pleased to meet you both, and your instruments.”

  I opened the front door wide, and they all came inside from the porch and found places to set down their bevy of instrument cases.

  “Can I offer you all a drink? I have beer. Or wine. Or sparkling water.”

  As a trio, none of them answered. Ian was examining the music on my shelves, and Toby began tuning his mandolin against the piano. Ian was tall and thin in an angular way, with a pointy nose, a shaved head, and a translucent complexion; every time he looked my way, I thought his icy blue eyes might bore a hole through me. Toby was a head shorter than Jason and slightly round. He had sparkly, impish eyes and deep dimples in both cheeks, made more charming by a well-trimmed Vandyke beard, in dark Vandyke brown. He was dressed in the t-shirt and jeans that the three of them seemed to wear as a uniform.

  Jason just stood and grinned at me. He looked over his shoulder at his friends and then followed me to the kitchen, whispering.

  “Toby doesn’t believe a man should sleep with a woman who doesn’t keep her piano in tune, so he’s satisfied now that all is well. Ian will call Cynthia when he gets home, and then she’ll send me email to let me know whether it’s OK to keep seeing you. They all wanted to break us up before they even met you.”

  “They can’t break us up,” I said. I assumed they’d want beer, so I fetched bottles from the back of the refrigerator.

  “That’s what I said.” He smiled.

  “They can’t break us up because we aren’t going together.”

  “It is true we aren’t going anywhere. We’re staying here, right?”

  “Jason, I don’t know you.”

  “Yes, you do. What you don’t know, I’ll tell. Anything you want to ask. My secrets can be your secrets.”

  “It’s confusing. I don’t want to trade secrets. Please don’t touch me.”

  “Susi, neither one of us is guilty of anything.”

  “Please.”

  “I won’t touch you, but don’t make me leave. How can you not believe that fate brought us together?”

  “I can’t afford to believe in fate. It leads to despair.”

  “Can’t we start again as friends, Susi?” He stopped, pointing to the beer in my hand. “Unless Paul wants one, you should put those back. We don’t drink while we work. Just water and coffee. I’ll make coffee.”

  “Working?”

  “We’re playing music. They want to hear you sing.”

  “Jason, I asked you not to tell people.”

  “You said you wanted to keep it a private experience outside your regular life. We’re outside your regular life. I didn’t tell my cousin.”

  “You said that you don’t have a cousin.”

  “Yes, but if I did, I wouldn’t tell her that you sneak out at night to sing.”

  In retrospect, I can’t explain how I lost control of my house that night. I could blame it on being so tired, but that wouldn’t explain how I ended up singing, not just in front of Jason and his friends, but in front of Paul and Zak, too. Paul came with a small selection of woodwinds, including a penny whistle. Zak had come with an electronic trap set, which was as much as he could carry on the bus over to my neighborhood.

  Jason made everyone play. That’s how it happened. He wasn’t bossy, but whatever he thought was a good idea, every
one went along with it. Ian and Toby seemed willing to consider anything he proposed, each making suggestions only for songs or keys or rhythms that we might try. At midnight, Paul left, offering Zak a ride back to Capitol Hill. Jason talked them into hauling the unused instruments out to the car as they left.

  By two in the morning, we were singing quiet songs, and I had abandoned posture and breathing, having already sung enough that I saw that sweet indigo blue spot between my eyes for more than an hour. I fell asleep with my head on Jason’s shoulder where we sat on the sofa.

  When I woke in the morning, they were gone, and all traces of our philharmonic orgy had been tidied up, with Zak’s electronic trap as the only reminder they had been there.

  I was an hour late for work. It didn’t seem that I could offer “too much time in the key of G” as a medical excuse.

  37 ~ “Shop It Around”

  JASON

  “GEEZ, KARL. I DON’T know what to do.”

  “Hello to you too, Jason. You have Martha. She can handle whatever it is. Are you out of clean socks? Do you need a new bus pass? A glass of water for your wife when she chokes while explaining what a heel you are?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Martha did that yesterday for Dominique. Very professional of her, for I don’t think Martha likes your Lady D.”

  “I need you to go after someone.”

  “Estoppels against the blog where your starfucker SusiQ brags about her conquest?”

  “I’m effing serious, Karl. That stalker hacked into one of my blogs and listed every move I made after leaving London. Now that National Steel guitar my uncle gave me is missing. My stalker friend stole it while we were loading or unloading instruments this morning at the studio.”