Still Life with Strings Page 3

  A memory hits me of how I saw the orchestra musicians out last night, and it was right before I’d noticed Shane watching me. Now it all makes sense; he’d been with them.

  He’s looking at me now like he wants to go for round two, and no matter how nice that would be, it can’t happen. I swore myself off relationships when I stopped drinking. It’s kind of like that saying, once burned, twice shy. Only in my case I was burned over and over again, making me a million times shy.

  The whole point of last night with Shane was that he was a random stranger. Someone I could have a heated encounter with and then let drift into the recesses of my memory. Yet here he is, flesh and bone and sexy, pretty manliness.

  “What’s your name?” he asks.

  Avery’s chatter dies down as she realises he’s not paying attention to her any longer.

  “What’s yours?” I counter.

  “Shane.”

  I give him a smirk. “Funny how we managed to forego first names, isn’t it? I’m Jade. Pleased to meet you, Shane.”

  I reach out to shake his hand, and he takes my fingers into his warm palm before releasing them.

  I think he’s blushing a little because of my comment, that adorable shyness creeping back in that’s so at odds with his polished confidence.

  “So I guess I can stop calling you Bluebird, then,” he whispers.

  I smile and joke, “I have you pegged. Women are all birds and bitches to you, right?”

  He gives me a startled look, and I hold back a grin.

  “I’m pulling your leg, hon,” I tell him, and the startled look fades.

  Several moments of silence ensue before he regains his confidence. “So what’s with the living statue thing? They don’t pay you enough here or something?” He’s trying to be flirtatious now.

  “That’s a hobby. And no, to answer your second question, they don’t pay me enough here. Not when I’ve got two mouths to feed at home.”

  His brow furrows before he asks, “Are you a mother, Jade?”

  I let out a small laugh and shake my head. “The look on your face! No, I was referring to my younger brother and sister.” I lean against the bar so that our faces are inches apart, then whisper, “I’m a poor little orphan, Shane. You want to come rescue me?”

  He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. My eyes flick to Avery when I hear her make a small noise of surprise. Damn, I’d almost forgotten she was listening to us.

  “In what way do you need rescuing?” Shane asks back, his voice gravelly.

  I stand up straight then and return to drying glasses.

  “Contrary to popular belief, not all orphans need to be rescued,” I tell him with a wink, and walk to the other end of the bar. Soon the musicians begin to head home, and I finish closing up for the night. When I look back to where Shane had been sitting, I find he’s gone. Avery has left, too. Hmm, I wonder if he went home with her.

  I call goodbye to a couple of other workers, hitching my bag up on my shoulder and making my way out through the employee exit. I give a surprised yelp when somebody emerges from the side of the building. Clutching my chest, I see it’s only Shane carrying a violin case and a small backpack.

  “Shit, you scared me,” I exclaim, my breathing fast.

  He gives me a sheepish grin. “Oops, sorry.” He pauses, biting at his full bottom lip. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Smiling now, I reply, “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I was, uh, wondering if I could take you out some time?”

  “Aren’t we past all that?” I ask.

  He looks to the ground and then back up at me, scratching at his jaw. “I don’t think so.”

  I take a step closer to him, putting my hand on his arm and letting it drift lightly downward. He closes his eyes at my touch. Wow, this guy really likes me. Like, really likes me. All those posh women in his line of work must be prudes. Perhaps that’s why my overly forward ways have him so affected.

  “You don’t think so, Shane? So it wasn’t you who fucked my brains out in the back of an alley last night?” I whisper.

  “Bloody hell, Jade,” he exclaims, looking around to make sure there’s no one within hearing distance. Breathing heavily, he continues, “That wasn’t my initial intention. I did actually mean it when I said I wanted to have a drink with you. You’re amazingly beautiful — in your costume and out of it.”

  I smile softly now. “You like my wings, honey?”

  He nods. “Very much so. Your appearance as a living statue is striking, to say the least. I couldn’t look away when I saw you. You had this expression on your face like you were imagining heaven.”

  I give him a full-on grin for that one. I don’t think I was imagining heaven last night, but it’s a nice idea. Now I’m trying to remember what I had actually been imagining, but it’s not coming to me. I think I was just noticing him and thinking he was incredibly attractive — him fucking me was pretty heavenly, though.

  I smile up at him. “Are you a bit of a poet, Shane?”

  He smiles back, and I see a dimple deepen in one of his cheeks.

  “Nope. Just a lowly violinist.”

  I start walking now and he moves, too, keeping pace with me. “Ah, I like a bit of modesty in a man. So, you must be thrilled to have snagged a place in the symphony. Where did you play before?”

  His eyes light up at the fact that I’m asking questions about him. “Yeah, I was over the moon, actually. I had to do a number of auditions and interviews. Up until about a year ago, I was in a string quartet. We had a fairly large European following, so I got to do lots of travelling.”

  “Wow. That sounds exciting. What was your group’s name?”

  “The Bohemia Quartet. Ever heard of us?”

  “Sorry, can’t say that I have. Do you have any recordings?”

  “Yeah, three albums. You can buy our stuff on iTunes.” He gives me this cute little self-deprecating grin.

  “Cool. I’m going to look you up sometime. So why did you leave?”

  His shoulders slump as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “That’s a depressing story.”

  “I can deal with depressing,” I tell him.

  He shakes his head. “Nah, not tonight. Perhaps some other time.”

  “Okay. So are you planning on walking me all the way home?” I ask, noticing we’re almost at the end of Harcourt Street now.

  Shane glances up and down the road. “How much farther is your place?”

  “Five minutes from here. You can head off if you like. I might see you around at work.” I begin walking away, but he rushes to catch up with me.

  “Hey, what’s your hurry? I can go another five minutes.”

  I stop and turn to face him, giving him a sad look. He’s like an enthusiastic puppy — a darkly exotic enthusiastic puppy.

  “We’re not having sex again,” I state, getting straight to the point.

  He blinks and sputters. “Is that what you think I’m after? Jade, I just want to talk with you some more. I like you.”

  Putting my hand comfortingly on his chest, I tell him softly, “That’s really sweet, and I’ve no problem talking. In fact, I’d love to be friends, but I just need to know you understand that what went on between us last night won’t be happening again. ’Kay?”

  He stares at me, and his eyes tilt downward. Great, now I’ve kicked the puppy. For a moment I think he’s going to argue with me, but then he simply replies, “I’d love to be friends, too.”

  He gives me a small smile, one which I return. “Friends it is, then. Come on, buddy. Walk me home.”

  A few minutes later we’re approaching my house. I take a glance at the group of boys who seem to be continually camped out at the end of the street. Then I breathe a relieved sigh when I confirm that Pete isn’t with them.

  Pulling my keys from my bag, I turn to Shane. “Well, this is me. Thanks for the chat. It was good talking to you. Hopefully we can do it again soon.”

  He stands
at the end of my front step, hands dug into his pockets. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s staring at me, real intense.

  “What are you looking at me like that for?” I ask, letting out a small nervous laugh.

  “I’ve never met a girl like you before,” he says.

  What am I, a mermaid or something?

  “Well, I wouldn’t imagine many of the girls from around here hang out with men who play the violin, nor do they attend any string quartet concerts,” I reply jokingly, gesturing over to a couple of girls standing by a house across the street, puffing on cigarettes in their pyjama bottoms, massive gold hoop earrings in their ears.

  Shane looks to them and then back at me. “No, I don’t suppose they do. You know, I’ve never actually been in this part of the city before.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you have,” I say, teasing him.

  He narrows his eyes, giving me a tight-lipped smirk. “I, uh, don’t think I remember the way back.”

  I laugh. “Well, that was silly, now, wasn’t it? Where do you live?”

  “Ranelagh. I was going to catch a cab.”

  “In that case, come on inside and I’ll call one for you. My neighbour Barry drives a taxi. He’ll do you a discount if he knows you’re a friend of mine.”

  I turn my key in the door and step into the hallway, my ears immediately getting blasted with loud rap music. Great. I forgot my brother Alec usually has his friends around for a few beers on a Sunday night.

  “Sorry about the noise. It’s just my brother and his mates. Come on into the kitchen.”

  I gesture for him to take a seat at the table. “Do you want some tea while you’re waiting?”

  “I’d love some.”

  I put on the kettle and then pick up my phone to call Barry. It rings out twice before he answers.

  “Jade, what can I do for you, love?”

  “A friend of mine needs a lift out to Ranelagh. Are you free?”

  “I will be in about fifteen minutes. You at your house or somewhere else?”

  “My house.”

  “Right, give me half an hour, tops. I’ll beep when I’m outside.”

  “Great. Thanks, Barry.”

  The music coming from the living room gets louder, and I find it hilarious when Shane furrows his brow as though offended. I can’t blame him. If I spent my life playing classical music, I’d be offended by rap, too.

  I bang my fist on the wall, shouting, “Keep it down, Alec.”

  The volume lowers, and I go about making the tea. A minute later Alec walks into the kitchen, opening the fridge to take out more beers. My eldest brother is a sight to behold these days. He’s been working for a construction company, so all the hard labour has bulked him up, and he’s taken to tattoos in a big way. He’s already got a full sleeve on his right arm and is building another on the left. His light brown hair, the same shade as that of all my siblings, is cut in a Mohawk down the centre of his head.

  “Sorry about the music, Jade. Some of the boys got carried away.” He notices Shane then and gives him the once-over. The two couldn’t be any more opposite: Shane in his black shirt and slacks, and Alec in his jeans and ratty T-shirt.

  “You a friend of Jade’s?” he asks, taking the cigarette that had been resting behind his ear and lighting it up.

  “Yeah, he is. This is Shane. Shane, this is my brother, Alec.”

  “Nice to meet you, bud,” says Alec, reaching across the table to give Shane’s hand a sturdy shake. What with his appearance and his deep inner-city accent, Alec can come across like a bit of a scary bastard, but he’s actually a really amiable guy. He’s the funniest fucker I know, brilliant sense of humour. You’ll never get one over on him in a battle of wits.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” says Shane, smiling urbanely.

  Alec grins when he hears Shane speak and gives me a look that says, haven’t you done well for yourself, snagging the posh fella.

  I give him a look in return that says, we’re just friends!

  “Right. Well, I’ll leave you both to it,” says Alec finally, picking up the beers and strolling back into the living room.

  “And keep the music down,” I call after him.

  “So, you’ve got two brothers and a sister?” Shane asks as I set a cup of tea down in front of him.

  “That’s right, though Alec’s big and ugly enough to take care of himself now.”

  Shane laughs. “Right, yeah, I can see that. What happened to your parents?”

  “Whoa, bit of a personal question there,” I say, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from him.

  He looks embarrassed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No, you’re all right. Mum died four years ago from lung cancer. My dad died a few months after I was born, got knocked over by a car. The others have a different father, though — that’s why I’m the only one with this mad albino hair. Their dad’s name is Patrick, absolute waste of space. He shows up every once in a while, but mostly I try to keep him out of the picture.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “It is. So, do I get to ask about your family, or does this interview business only go one way?”

  Shane sits back in his chair. “You can ask. My situation is fairly simple, though. I’m an only child. My parents live in Dalkey.”

  I grin. “Well, I’d never have guessed. Is that where you grew up?”

  He eyes me speculatively. “Uh-huh. And what do you mean, ‘you’d never have guessed’?”

  “I was just teasing. I knew you must have been raised somewhere around that area, given your accent.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah. Are both of your parents white? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you look like you’ve got some Asian blood in you.”

  “Bit of a personal question,” he says with a smirk, throwing my own words back at me.

  “I like asking personal questions.” I lean in closer to him, my elbows on the table, and bite flirtatiously on my lower lip. I do it jokingly, but Shane’s expression heats up nonetheless, his eyes zeroing in on my mouth.

  “I bet you do. And yeah, both of my parents are white. They lived in Beijing for several years in the eighties where my dad was working for the Irish embassy. While they were over there they tried for a baby, but something wasn’t working. In the end they found out that Mum was infertile, so they hired a surrogate.”

  “Say what?” I exclaim humorously. Shane shoots me a narrow-eyed look. “No, seriously,” I go on. “I thought only crazy celebrities and millionaires hired surrogates.”

  “It’s actually more common than you’d think. So anyway, they paid this nice Chinese woman to have a child for them. Basically, they used my dad’s sperm, and the surrogate got pregnant through artificial insemination. So I’m my dad’s biological son, but not my mum’s.”

  “Wow. And have you ever met your birth mother?”

  “No. Mum thought it would be best to sever all the ties. When I was five we moved back to Ireland.”

  “What age are you now?”

  “Twenty-nine. I’ll be thirty next month. You?”

  “Twenty-six going on fifty.”

  He laughs. “You don’t look fifty.”

  “I feel it sometimes,” I sigh.

  He gives me a sympathetic expression and reaches out to softly squeeze my hand. He doesn’t keep doing it for long, but it’s nice while it lasts.

  We stay locked in a moment as he drags his tongue over his bottom lip, wetting it. I stare at his mouth, half mesmerised.

  The moment is broken when a car horn beeps loudly from outside, signalling Barry’s arrival. “Ah, there’s your ride home, and the conversation had just gotten interesting,” I announce with amusement.

  Shane stands and gulps down the last of his tea. “Well, we can continue it tomorrow if you’d like. Are you working?”

  “Yep. Eleven o’clock until seven.”

  “I have a rehearsal until four. Can I stop by the bar and see you?”

/>   “Sure. You’ll be bored out of your tits watching me work, but I’ll try my best to fit in some talking time.” I smile and stand up, ushering him out to the front door.

  “It’s a good thing I don’t have tits, then, isn’t it? See you, Jade,” he calls, blowing me a cheeky kiss and making his way over to Barry’s taxi.

  I make a show of catching it with my hand, like a big fat nerd. Standing on the step, I watch him go until the car disappears out of sight. A second later, my sister April and her best friend Chloe saunter up to me, wearing outfits that almost match. They’ve both got some variation of a white cotton top on with similar denim miniskirts and fake UGG boots.

  “Hey, Jado,” Chloe calls to me as they approach. She’s got this annoying habit of making up nicknames for everyone, normally ending with an “O.” She calls April “Apro.” You get the picture.

  “Eh, who was that?” April asks, her voice booming halfway around the street.

  “A friend.”

  “Your friend is a fucking ride,” Chloe puts in, fanning her face theatrically. For those not in the know, “a ride” is Dublin slang for “hot.”

  “Yep. That he is,” I reply to her, deadpan. “Where have you two been?”

  “Nowhere,” says April, tight-lipped, which might as well be slang for “up to no good.”

  “Okay. Have you seen Pete around?”

  “Nope.”

  “You’re a fountain of knowledge tonight, April, really you are. Here, I’ve got a proposition for you,” I say.

  Chloe snickers at my use of the word “proposition.” I’m dealing with a future Nobel Prize winner in this girl. April looks at me appraisingly.

  “What is it?”

  “Lara’s looking for a babysitter for little Mia. What do you think? It’ll earn you some money until you can find a full-time job.”

  “Yes, I’ll do it! How much is she paying?” April asks enthusiastically, while Chloe’s eyes simultaneously light up as she mouths the words free house at April.

  “I saw that, Chloe, and there’ll be no free house.” I wag my finger at her. “If April’s going to do this, she’s going to do it properly. You can’t have boys over if you’re going to be responsible for a three-year-old. Do you hear me?”

  “Yeah, I know. Don’t snap at me — it was Chloe who said it. I know I have to take it seriously. I’m not stupid.”