Staccato (Magnum Opus #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,23
then Nik was there. He walked on stage with the same confidence he had every single time Adam had ever seen him. Head high, chin parallel to the floor. His cane was held in front of him, just a few inches from his shoes, and he gave a quick bow to the audience before taking a seat on the bench.
A stagehand rushed out and took the cane before Nik settled, and the camera zoomed in. It was still grainy, still hard to see much, but there was no mistaking him. Adam didn’t need to squint to recognize the waves in his hair—expertly styled with thick gel. He was years younger, but he had the same round softness to his jaw, and same wrinkle to his nose that Adam had seen the night in the school parking lot.
There was no introduction to what he was playing—not like the start of the kids’ concert. Nik merely stretched his arms in front of him, settled his fingers on the keys, and then dove in. Adam was no expert in music, not even his own genre. He didn’t recognize it, but he recognized that it was good. Better than good—it was enough to send goosebumps rippling up and down his arms, to send a lump rising into his throat, the inexplicable urge to cry settling hot behind his eyes.
Nik was beautiful. How he swayed with the music, how his head tilted so his ear was pointed toward the piano and face toward the crowd, how his fingers moved in ways Adam didn’t think was possible as they cascaded up and down the keys.
The crowd erupted into applause when it was done, and he could hear the faint sound of sniffling, and Van’s low voice complain, “Papa,” before it cut off.
Adam pulled the earbud from his ear and resolved not to look for him again. If he wanted to know, he’d ask. If Nik ever showed up again, Adam would earn the friendship—earn the right to those bits and pieces of his past. He scrubbed a hand down his face, then glanced up to see a woman standing a few feet from the desk holding the hand of a nervous looking young girl.
He plastered a smile on his face and rose from the chair. “Hi, can I help you with something?”
The woman tugged on the girl’s hand, and she reluctantly took a couple steps into the shop. “This is Melanie. She wants to get her ears pierced, but she’s feeling nervous.”
Adam walked around the desk and leaned his hip against it, crossing his arms. He knew that he looked intimidating to kids, but Melanie stared at him like he was anyone else on the street, and that helped him relax. “Are you Mom?”
The woman nodded.
“And you know how we do piercings here, Melanie?” he asked her.
She shuffled her feet and squeezed her mom’s hand for a second, but she nodded bravely. “My friend Ashlyn got her ears done with a needle. Um. She said it wasn’t that scary. She said her brother told her it was better than the um…the other thing.”
“The gun,” Adam clarified. He motioned them to the sitting area and took the chair as the woman urged Melanie onto the sofa. “We have a gun here, but I rarely recommend it unless the person has an extreme fear of needles, or they’re too young to hold still. Like babies, but you aren’t a baby.”
Melanie wrinkled her nose. “No, but…I really don’t like shots.”
Adam laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think anyone likes them. I have to take shots once a week for this medicine I need, and even after all these years, I still hate it. But this is different, I promise.”
She looked dubious. “How?”
“Because it’s faster, and your earlobe is a lot softer than your muscles. It’s over like that”—he snapped his fingers—“and you heal a lot faster than the gun. Plus, you get to pick some really cute earrings.”
Melanie’s mother smiled encouragingly. “I think it’ll be fine.”
“I have a stuffed elephant you can hold on to. His name is Chuck,” he told her. Standing up, he went to his supply closet and got the stuffie out from the top shelf. He was Vincent’s and had been their former piercer’s idea. Adam had only needed him twice, but today seemed like a Chuck sort of day. “He’s helped a lot of nervous people through piercings.”
“Do you get nervous?” she asked, her small hands reaching for the stuffed toy.