The Piano Man Project Page 0,12

quiet. She huffed softly and opened her own door, hauling her heavy shopping up onto the kitchen work surface in the tiny kitchenette. The woefully small kitchen hadn’t concerned Honey in the slightest when she’d viewed the flat, mainly because her cooking repertoire didn’t extend much beyond cheese on toast or microwaved tomato soup. Rooting through the bags, she pulled out the only item she’d really headed into the store for in the first place. Whisky. As someone who never touched the stuff, the wall of whisky choices she’d found herself faced with had been bewildering. Did Hal have a preferred brand? Was he a single malt man? Given the amount of it that he seemed to drink and the hefty price tag on the decent stuff, Honey settled for the supermarket’s own blend. Hal probably wouldn’t taste it anyway when he knocked it back without it touching the sides. He seemed to use it more for anaesthetic than pleasure. Picking up the bottle and screwing up her courage, Honey opened her front door, crossed the hallway and knocked tentatively on Hal’s door. Nothing. It didn’t surprise her.

‘Hal?’ she called his name lightly. Neighbourly. ‘Hal, it’s me. Honey.’

He didn’t reply, and there were no sounds of life behind the stubbornly closed door, but he was in there, she was sure of it. It was pretty obvious from the way he’d practically begged for her tequila yesterday that he wasn’t planning on leaving the house anytime soon. Unease crept through Honey. Couldn’t the man just grunt or something, make some acknowledgment that he was alive at least? What if he’d drunk all the tequila and passed out cold? God, what if he’d hit his head?

‘Hal.’ She threw more power behind her voice, aiming for friendly, but immediately knew she’d failed and come over all officious and girl guide again. Glancing back towards her own open door, she sighed with resignation and leaned against the wall.

‘I’m not going away until you answer me, so you may as well make this easy on both of us, rock star.’

Silence reigned, and Honey slid her weary bones down the wall to sit outside his door, the bottle of whisky beside her. ‘I’ll just sit out here then,’ she said, her elbows on her knees, chin cupped in her hands. ‘I guess I’ll just drink this whisky myself then,’ she said after a few minutes, not enjoying the manipulative nature of her comment but glad to be well and truly out of girl guide territory. And besides, it worked. Honey let out a long, slow breath of relief as the sound of movement on the other side of the door told her that he was at least alive.

He was close to the door now, she could hear him breathing.

‘What will it take to make you give me that whisky?’ he grumbled.

Honey raised her eyebrows, nodding philosophically into her hands. That was how it was going to be then.

‘Ah you know. Nothing much. A bit of neighbourly chat, maybe?’

More movement from behind the door, and then his whisky and cigarettes voice again, only lower this time. Closer. As if he were sitting on the other side of the door.

‘I don’t chat.’

‘No?’ Honey said casually, not even sure why she was trying to engage him in conversation. She felt like someone trying to entice a kitten into their home with a saucer of milk. ‘Maybe you could just listen then, because I’ve had a pig of a day and I could do with offloading.’

‘So what, you thought you’d bribe your blind neighbour with whisky to make him listen? Don’t you have any friends?’

Honey half smiled. Was it masochistic that she enjoyed his grouchiness? Glancing at her watch, she tapped the face with her fingertip. ‘Something like that. Ten minutes of your time and you get the whisky.’

His exaggerated sigh was unmissable. ‘I’m not opening the door.’

‘Whatever. Just don’t go and do something else while I’m speaking.’

His harsh laugh told her that her comment had struck a chord. ‘You mean I can’t go back to screwing the horny blonde in my bedroom? I could keep it quiet.’

‘In your dreams, rock star.’ Honey wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘So … I just had to tell two old ladies that they might be homeless soon.’

A pause. ‘It’s not just my life you’re intent on screwing up then,’ Hal said.

‘It’s not my fault.’ Honey knew he didn’t care, but felt the need to make him understand anyway. ‘I manage the charity