Staccato (Magnum Opus #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,44
available time slots. I’m not in the habit of conforming my schedule to those of my students, especially my newer students. And I don’t work weekends.”
“Even if we’re paying for it?” she demanded.
Nik dropped his hand to the desk and dug his nails into the faux wood. “Yes, even if you’re paying for it. As I said before, my time is valuable and…”
“According to the reviews, you might not be as valuable as you claim,” she shot, and while a poor review of a spring concerto with private students was hardly the worst criticism he’d ever received, he was dealing with a lot, and it was a low blow.
He grimaced before he spoke. “Perhaps you’d like me to give you a reference for someone who is, then?”
“I’d like,” she said sharply, “to book a time for my son that works with our schedule, at a cost reasonable for someone with your current reputation.”
“This is hardly the way to get me to take Bryce on as a student, Miss Peters,” he told her quietly. “I understand that someone such as yourself is used to getting their way, but insulting me won’t do you or your son any favors.”
There was a very long silence, then a sigh. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding anything but. “It’s been a hard week.”
He wanted to have sympathy, but it was hard when she went right for the jugular any time she was denied something. “I will send Bryce home with another appointment card for private lessons, and the time slots will either work, or they won’t. But I won’t make special exceptions.”
There was more tension in the silence, and then her clipped voice saying, “Fine,” before hanging up.
He had to wonder why he wasn’t just flat-out telling her no, but maybe—right in this moment—he was a glutton for punishment. His fingers trembled on his phone, and then he brought it near his face.
“Open texts,” he instructed, and the phone chimed. “Send text message to Adam.” His phone went through the motions, and then asked him to dictate. “I’m sorry again, period. Let me know if you’ll be at the mall, and I’ll come by tonight, period. I want to talk, period.”
“Are you ready to send?”
“Yes,” Nik said, and then heard the chime before he could change his mind.
“Message sent.”
A moment later, his phone buzzed with a reply, and he forced himself to be brave enough to open it and listen.
“Text message from Adam. I will be here until the end of my shift. See you then.”
Yet again, it was now or never, and when it came to Adam—Nik, it seemed, wasn’t in the business of never.
Chapter 11
Fermata
Adam swore he was going to wear a hole in the carpet as he waited for Nik to show up. The universe wanted to fuck with him that day, it seemed, because it was busier than it had been in months. After his sixth nostril piercing in two hours, he appreciated that it was keeping him busy, but the clock seemed to be going backward every time he glanced at it. And every single time a person stepped into the front of the shop, his heart leapt, only to crash down to his feet when it wasn’t the man he wanted to see.
He hated how weak he was too. Hated that he’d been bound and determined to hate Nik for the rest of his life for giving him a taste, and then running away and leaving him sitting on the dressing room sofa like a jackass. Then he’d gotten a single text message, and Adam felt his heart tripping over itself to fall for Nik all over again.
He was proud of his resolve not to do it over the phone, but he was far too eager to insist Nik come in and speak to him in person. He didn’t know that he could convince the other man to give them a chance—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to now, not after the way Nik had run—but he knew whatever they had was precious enough to try.
It was nearing six though, and Adam was seconds away from just calling it a day and going home. It was an hour past his shift, and he was starting to feel like an even bigger idiot when he heard the telltale smack of a cane hitting the sign out front. He stood up from his chair, gripping the edge of the welcome desk, and his throat threatened to close up as Nik came around