emotion for the piece fills in, and the support of the classical guitar moves me. Chills creep up my back as he nails the chord progressions by ear.
I sway back and forth as I play, and I wonder how we look together. Do people think we planned this? The petite guy with the big guitar and the tall guy with the teensy oboe. But then I hear something oddly validating.
A woman unzips her bag, and the abrupt sound makes me open my eyes and throw her my gaze. She pulls out a couple of pounds from her change purse and tosses them in his case.
Ennio Morricone is a master, and “Gabriel’s Oboe” is his masterpiece. The most compelling contemporary melody over a light harpsichord. It’s the piece that made me pick up the oboe for the first time. Mom is a film score buff, and she’d play this over and over. I’d go back to her old CDs, ignore all the gospel ones, find The Mission soundtrack, and put the piece on repeat. And that was where it all started for me.
And then we finish, somewhat abruptly, because I could have kept repeating it ad nauseam and this guy was willing to let me.
“You’re amazing,” I say. “How’d you play that by ear?”
“I’ve listened to the piece a lot.”
“Me too.”
His gaze falls to the guitar box. “We got, like, ten pounds for a two-minute song. That’s a record for me, and it’s off-peak hours.”
He reaches in and hands me a five. The queen stares at me. “I can’t accept this; you really helped me with—”
“Take it,” he says, with such authority that I do. “I’m not exactly an oboe expert, but I have played my share of duets, and you’re quite the musician.”
His eyes burn into me, so I divert my attention and focus on a freckle on his chin.
“Are you okay? You seem embarrassed.”
Naturally, this makes me feel … doubly embarrassed.
“Well, anyway. You’re a confident player, and a very supportive duet partner. So thanks. That was fun.”
“Did you seriously just have a film score jam session?” Sophie busts in, showing us her phone. “This is amazing. But I’d expect nothing less from the prodigy golden child who graduated from the academy at sixteen.”
“Always nice to, uh, meet a fan.” He laughs, almost mocking himself. “I’m Sang. Sophie, right? I work part-time in the office, so I can usually put a face to a name.”
“And I’m Marty. But wait, let’s back up,” I say. He’s so young. “You graduated from the academy?”
“Last year. Now I just play gigs around the city for not great money.” He rolls his eyes. “Living the dream, eh?”
But what he doesn’t realize is that literally is my dream.
“So, Marty. You want to take over my spot here?” he asks.
My heartbeat speeds up, and I know I’m not ready to play here alone. And now that I know this is his livelihood, to some extent, I don’t want to kick him out of here.
“No, I think we’re okay. That video’s enough, right?”
“It’s a start,” Sophie replies, with a slightly disappointed tone.
I ignore it and start packing my oboe away. We say our goodbyes and make our way to the exit. The soft plucking of Sang’s guitar follows us as we go, and a part of me feels empowered. If he can make a life here piecing together various gigs and side jobs, so can I. So can Shane.
This plan we’ve worked up might feel far-fetched at times, but for once, it actually feels doable.
TWELVE
Sophie and I split up so she can finish classes for the day—Music History and Music Theory, respectively—and agreed to meet up afterward for a late lunch at Pret a Manger, the go-to lunch spot for all of the academy.
My heart beats fast, almost humming, as I sit down with my prepared sandwich and chips—okay, crisps, whatever. The way Sang played was nothing short of magical, prodigious. I can’t help but wonder if there are other duets I could be doing, even if just to mix up my portfolio. And to have some fun.
It’s probable that Sang and I couldn’t even if we wanted to. Unless he’s knowledgeable about obscure classical oboe solos, I don’t have much else we could play together. And considering I have no way to contact him, I can either hang around Marble Arch or the Knightsbridge office and cross my fingers, or I could move on.
But I want to know how he makes a career out of this—even