"I'm not in the mood."
He clucks his tongue again. "Boss goes to all this trouble to get it for you and you refuse to play? Maybe you two play duet?"
I turn to Julien. "I saw a violin case. Do you play?"
He shrugs, noncommittal.
"Boss is very good on violin. Plays beautiful Tchaikovsky. Makes old Russian like me cry."
I turn and look at Julien with fresh eyes. He plays violin? I've always thought of him as just a soldier. A knight, maybe, from Occitan nobility, but still a soldier.
I glance at the Steinway. I must admit I'm dying to play it.
"It won't bother you?"
"I'd really like to hear you play," Vasily says. "Boss said you were child prodigy."
"More like child automaton," I say, trying to downplay the prodigy bit because it really means nothing. Child prodigies and normal virtuosos end up at the same point eventually and sometimes, the child prodigies burn out from all the work. Like me.
"Please play," he says. "I never had lessons and have great regret. If you can play, you should. Music has charms," he says and raises his eyebrows, gesturing with his head towards Julien.
I smile at Vasily. He's so sweet, and I'm surprised because it's so at odds with his physical appearance, with his puggish face and short steel-grey brush cut.
I go to the sink and wash my hands first, and go to the Steinway, approaching it like it's a rare animal. It's huge – a concert grand, its ebony exterior shining in the overhead pot light. It must have cost over a hundred grand. I glance through the music on it – it's all mine taken from my apartment. I lay my hands on the keyboard, the keys smooth and cool under my fingertips.
"Any requests?"
Vasily comes over to the piano and stands beside me.
"Play your most favorite piece," he says. "The one that you love the most."
I think for a minute. "I have a new favorite. Chopin. Nocturne in E Minor."
"Why you love?"
"It's Michel's favorite," I say, and glance at Julien. Julien has his back to the room, watching out the windows.
I start to play and glance up to see Julien watching me from the bank of windows, where he stands in the darkness. The piece is very passionate, and I suspect Chopin was struggling with some kind of teenage angst but it just reminds me of how sweet and emotional and passionate Michel is and how he said it made him think of his own heartbreak when he was seventeen. I wonder what price he's paying living with Soren.
The piece ends on a more uplifting note than it starts and I look up at Vasily, who's smiling broadly.
"You got a beautiful touch," he says, standing there beside the piano, his hand resting on the ledge as if he were my teacher.
"She does." Julien says, emerging out of the darkness to stand on the other side of the Steinway. I avoid his eyes, and just sit there, running my fingers over the smooth ebony finish of the keyboard. He searches through the sheet music and selects a piece –Ballade No.1by Chopin.
"Play this. Michel said he wanted you to practice."
I move it out of the way, replacing it with a new piece I was working on before final exams stopped my practice. A Bach prelude.
"No, this one," he says and puts the Chopin back. "He wanted you to learn to play it through."
I can't speak for a moment, a choky feeling in my throat.
"I don't want to play it today."
"Eve," he says. "This isn't about what you want. You said all in to Michel and Michel says you're to obey me as you would him.Iwant." He takes the other music off the stand and replaces it firmly with Chopin. "Think of it as repaying a debt. I did save your life."
"It's because of you that it's in danger."