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“Dave,” Isaac says, “this is, uh, Juli-Julianne, my best student. Right, hon?” He waves an arm toward Short and Blond. “Juli, Dave. Dave, Juli. And that bastard’s Conrad. Don’t mind him. He always looks like that.”

Isaac giggles—actually giggles—at himself. He leans his mouth to my ear, and I cringe.

“So, you coming to my place again tonight?”

I’m at a total loss. I have no idea how to respond. Luckily, I don’t need to.

“Where’d that drink go to?”

Conrad nods to me, but Dave shakes my hand with a friendly squeeze. He’s still grinning. “So, Julianne-or-Juli-whatever. We finally
meet,
though I’m surprised it’s here. They let you into bars, Sexy-and-Seventeen? Not that I mind.” He winks.

“I’ve been coming here for a couple of years to listen to the musicians. I’m a regular and they know I don’t come to drink, so they leave me alone. Mr. Laroche said he used to come here, too, for the same reason.”

“
Mister
Laroche, huh? That’s hilarious. Did you hear that, Conrad? So,
Mister
Laroche, are you
gonna
let go of Julianne here, or do we have to haul you off of her? I don’t think she can hold you up much longer.”

Dave continues to study me. He’s not leering, but he’s definitely checking me out. I never expected to run into anyone, let alone Isaac’s friends, so I certainly don’t look my best.

My face flushes even hotter, and sweat breaks out on my upper lip. I lick at it and taste salt. Isaac’s eyes are half closed, and he rests his cheek on top of my head. I feel about two feet tall, and he feels like a ton of bricks.

Dave glances over his shoulder at Conrad. “Gimme a hand here. Sonny
boy’s
at his limit. We better get him to his mama.”

Dave unwraps Isaac from my neck. They each take an arm when he sags between them.

“So, listen, Juli—can I call you that?—next time you see
Mister
Laroche, don’t mention this to him, okay? He’ll be pretty embarrassed, and he’s already in a bad frame of mind. Hopefully he won’t remember anything. Dude, I think he’s gonna puke again.”

“Sure,” I say, wondering what on earth Dave means. Whatever news they brought from Boston can’t be good. I fight the temptation to grill them for information on Isaac’s past, but truthfully, I’m a little intimidated by Dave and Conrad—and the inebriated Isaac.

Percy walks up behind me. “Everything okay here, Miss Juli? You know these fellas?”

“Um, yeah, everything’s fine. It’s fine. This is my piano teacher and his friends from Boston. They’re taking him home.”

Percy raises his chin and looks down his nose at the three of them. He sizes them up and doesn’t look impressed. “That one looks a little green, so I think that’d be a wise decision.” He dishes out a big dose of the evil eye.

Dave hooks his finger at me to come closer. “You and I have unfinished business. I was serious about that death match.” He winks again before he and Conrad shuffle a limp Isaac out the door.

“What you doin’ with those guys, Miss Juli?” Percy says. “Ain’t
no company for a young thing like you.
Shouldn’t you be out with girls your own age?”

“Believe it or not, Percy, I have more in common with those three than most girls or guys my age. I was born old.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t like it.”

I sit back down at my table and finish off my now-warm Coke. Percy keeps an eye on me the rest of the evening until I take my leave and board the bus for home.

***

Isaac is all business the next day. He looks even worse than he did last night. I fully expected him to cancel, but the call never came. He mumbles a few apologies and asks me to start with the Presto from Moments Musicaux in E Minor
.
He sinks down on the loveseat and covers his eyes with his hand. A few minutes into the piece, there’s a shuffle of movement behind me. I turn and see Dave shut the door behind him.

“Sorry. Keep going.” He gives me a sheepish look.

I pick up where I left off, but I’m distracted by the back-and-forth mumbles behind me. I finish. Isaac breaks the silence.

“See what I mean?”

Dave nods and strokes his chin. “Yeah, you’re right. About everything.” He smiles. He studies my face but talks to Isaac. “She’s got it down, but…it’s not right. Technically she’s brilliant.
Seriously, brilliant.
You’re a lucky guy, Ike. You don’t have much to teach her. But it’s…devoid. Flat.”

He pauses, his blond eyebrows drawn in concentration. Then I see the light bulb go on over his head.

“Have you tried pissing her off?”

“Didn’t have to try.” Isaac chuckles. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look alive.

“Yeah, I figured—the redhead thing.” They both laugh at that.

“Hello? The redhead can hear you.”

Dave ignores me. “So is it true what they say about redheads? Does the rug—”

Isaac slaps a hand over Dave’s mouth. Dave rolls his eyes.

“Oh, lighten up. She’s seventeen, not thirteen. And I’ve always wondered…” He sighs, a wistful gleam in his eyes.

Wondered what?
Oh.
It dawns on me and I know I should be embarrassed, but I giggle. I can’t help it.
What a pervert!

“Anyway, Isaac’s right that something’s off here. It’s like…like you hold back. I mean,
you’re awesome
,
don’t get me wrong
. I haven’t heard anyone as skilled in a long time. But you’re a little uptight. Well, actually, both of you are uptight, but that’s beside the point.” He laughs at his own joke. “Or maybe not. Maybe that’s the problem. Ike, get lost for a minute, will you? I need to talk to Juli alone. I’ve got an idea.”

“That okay with you, Juli? I’ll be right outside, and Dave won’t do anything
stupid
, will you?” His tone could wither a steel magnolia.

Dave puts both hands up, palms out like he surrenders. “Hey, now. You asked me to come help, remember? Ask and you shall receive.”

“Doubt your motives are altruistic.”

I don’t care about motives. I just want to improve. “It’s fine, Isaac. If Dave can help, I’m all for it. You know I’ll do whatever it takes to get in.”

“Awesome,” Dave says. “Get lost, Ike. I’ll yell for you when we’re done.”

Isaac heads for the door. I watch him walk into the garden between the studio and the house. He’s got his sunglasses on before the door closes. Still hung over.

“So you’ve got the hots for Ike, huh?”

Blood rushes to my ears and cheeks. I don’t know why, though. I don’t like Isaac that way. Right? He’s Mr. Cline’s nephew and…old. Well,
older
. I mean, there was that one time when I kissed him and he didn’t kiss me
back
, but I don’t know why I did that. I wasn’t myself that day.

I respect Isaac as a teacher, and he’s an incredibly talented pianist, but that’s it. Sure, he has my future in his hands. I have the talent and technical know-how, but he makes me pay attention to detail. We spend a lot of time together and our rehearsals have gotten intense a couple of times, but…
Oh, God
.

Dave pounces. “Hah! I’m right. It’s okay. The chicks at school fell all over him, too.”

I jerk my head up. I forgot he was watching.

He adopts a falsetto. “Oh, Isaac, you’re so polite.
Such a Southern gentleman.
Won’t you be my Rhett Butler?” He grins, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and I can’t help but smile back.

He leans in and looks me straight in the eyes. “Here’s the deal, kitten. I can tell you got it bad. You’re like an open book, but you’ve got to get over it if you want to play this the right way. If you can’t let go in front of him, you’ll have a hell of a time in front of a panel of judges or a packed concert hall.”

I nod, still too embarrassed to say anything.
Can I just die right now?

“So here’s what we’ll do.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “I took an awesome seminar on performance anxiety once, and this is one of the things we did. Um,
piano
performance anxiety, that is. Don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” He waggles his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes. If he wants to make me laugh, it works. When he walks behind me, I twist on the bench to follow him.

“Nope, face forward. I’ll stand behind you. And try to relax. Pretend I’m some ugly old guy and not the fine male specimen that I am.”

“And so modest, too.” I giggle. Again. A girl could get used to all this attention.

“I want you to listen to my voice and concentrate on my hands on your shoulders. And I promise I’m not trying to get fresh with you…okay, maybe later, but I’ll be good for now. Okay, close your eyes and keep your hands in your lap, not on the keys.”

I do as he says and take a deep breath.

“I want you to feel the warmth of my hands on your shoulders, relaxing the muscles, heating them up until they’re nice and loose.”

I didn’t realize I’d scrunched them up until I loosen them.

“That’s it. Now push that heat into your neck and relax. Keep your head up and chin tucked in. Good. You’re doing great.” His voice is like velvet, slow and soft. “Okay, now feel the heat flow from your neck and shoulders down to your elbows. When your elbows are warm, feel the heat spread to your wrists, loosening the joints, relaxing the muscles. Everything’s nice and soft. Now concentrate and move the heat into your fingers. Start at the wrists and push it into your palms. Your palms are nice and warm, but not sweaty, just relaxed. Push the heat from your palms into your knuckles. Fill the joints and make them flexible, painless.

“And finally, let the heat spread into your fingertips. Feel the pulsing heat and energy in your whole hand and back up to your shoulders and neck. Keep your eyes closed and think of the heat, of what it looks like. Keep that image in front of your eyes for a minute.”

I soar up and out of my body, weightless and free. An image of warm, orange heat plays before my closed eyes. It pulses with every heartbeat.

“Now picture the opening bars of the opus. Keep your eyes closed, but picture what they look like as you play it in your head. Try not to move your fingers, either—I know it’s hard. Sit perfectly still and imagine the colors that go with the sounds.
The images that go with the notes.
Think about how those colors and images make you feel. Not how the music makes you feel, but how the images make you feel. Now do that for the entire piece. I’ll keep my hands on your shoulders and keep the heat pulsing down to your fingertips, and I want you to think about the colors and sounds and images.”

It’s amazing. I really feel the tingle and pulse of warm, smooth energy all the way from his burning hands on my shoulders down to my fingertips. I play the piece in my mind, and I try to keep still, but I lean in and out and my head shifts involuntarily. The movements and images are liquid smooth; the ghosts of my hands glide over the keys.

I’m surprised at the thoughts, images, colors, and textures that jump out at me—some pleasant, some not. I swear I even smell things: Mama coming at me; fall leaves; thunderstorms; red, orange and yellow; black night; the crisp smell of burning leaves; the live oak in the front yard swaying in a storm, the finger-like branches scratching at my bedroom window; damp bricks; and finally, the quick unreturned kiss with Isaac up in my room. I’m still when I finish, and Dave takes his hands from my shoulders.

“Keep your eyes closed.” He breathes in my ear, stubble brushing my jaw. “And go.”

I’m so mellow I could drift off to sleep, but instead, I raise my warm hands to the keys and play the music that’s in my head, visualizing the images I saw when I imagined playing. Even I can sense the difference. It’s like I see the music for the first time, not as the composer saw it, but how I’m supposed to see it, filtered through my own lens instead of someone else’s.

Everything clicks. I finish and open my eyes. Dave stands next to the piano with his arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Will you marry me?” He winks. We stare at each other for a minute.

“That was incredible.” I can’t speak above a whisper. “I get it. I get it now. I don’t know if you hypnotized
me or what,
but I felt something unlock. Not to sound cheesy, but really, it’s like that warm energy just…opened a path from my brain to my fingers. I understand what you two are talking about now.”

He laughs. “Well, I’m glad someone understands us. It’s just a simple relaxation technique. You can do it before every practice and every performance. You just have to relax like that around Ike. Pretend he’s me or something.”

“Now why would she want to do that?” I didn’t hear Isaac open the door. He stands with a hand on either side of the frame. “Dave’s right, that was amazing. Completely and utterly amazing.” He enunciates every syllable. “I guess pissing you off wasn’t the answer, after all. What did you do to her, Dave?”

“Remember that seminar by the guy who wrote
Musicophilia
? I used one of his techniques. She just needed to relax. See? I’m good for something after all. And you thought I was just a big flirt.”