Naivete

Chapter 7

Practicing


Sam cringed as her voice cracked for what felt like the fortieth time on the A-flat. Her voice was naturally low and husky, and Mrs. Krantz was trying to train her voice higher. Sam was convinced that she wanted her to be a soprano, something she neither wanted nor felt she could do.

“Samantha!” Mrs. Krantz barked as she turned off the CD player. “Have you not been rehearsing at all?”

Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Normally, she liked her name, but somehow this woman made it sound like it was dripping venom.

“Yes, Mrs. Krantz,” Sam groaned. “This is…this is really hard.”

“Of course it’s hard, Samantha!” Mrs. Krantz replied. “We’re trying to train you almost an octave up!”

“But…” Sam fumbled for the words, looking down, away from the woman’s frustrated gaze. “I just don’t understand why I have to be able to sing that high.”

Mrs. Krantz sighed, closing her eyes briefly and pressing her lips together. “What is it that you wish to achieve with your voice, Samantha?” she asked, her voice shockingly gentle.

“Wh-What do you mean?” Sam stuttered, suspiciously unsure what the woman was getting at.

“I mean, what do you want to do when you leave this school. How do you wish to use your voice?”

“I…I want to front a big band,” Sam said softly, blushing a little at how silly that sounded. To her surprise, however, Mrs. Krantz smiled genuinely.

“That’s a fantastic goal,” she said. “However, do you believe that all of the songs of this big band will be performed in the same key?”

Sam wrinkled her brow, slowly grasping what Mrs. Krantz was getting at. “No,” she answered slowly.

“Right. And do you think that they’ll be willing to hire an arranger to re-orchestrate all their tunes so that they’re in a comfortable range for you? The singer?”

Sam smiled a little and shook her head.

“Just remember that sadly, singers don’t get the respect they perhaps deserve in the music industry. Unless you have the kind of range that will make things easier on your bandleader, you’ve pretty much signed your suicide note by choosing vocal performance as a career.”

Sam nodded, trying to hide her satisfied smile. This was the first time that she had ever seen eye-to-eye with Mrs. Krantz. Truly, it was the first time Mrs. Krantz had ever behaved like a human being, with a heart and a soul and everything.

However, with a sigh and a slight shrug, the older woman had returned to her normal self.

“Now, I’d say let’s try it once more, but it appears that we’re out of time for today. I’ll see you on Monday, and Samantha…”

Sam looked up as she gathered her sheet music and hurriedly stuffed them in her notebook.

“Please…please make use of a practice room this weekend. Find an accompanist and get a little practice in.”

Sam smiled tightly and nodded.

As she left the room, she pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed Brent’s number. She cursed under her breath as she got his voice mail, and remembered that he was trying to find gigs today. She vaguely wondered how that was going, when the phone rang in her hand suddenly.

She smiled as she saw Mike’s name on the Caller ID and pressed the talk button.

“Hey,” she said, picking up her pace and heading toward the exit of the building.

“Meet me at the coffee house in one hour. Seriously…this is big.”

He hung up before Sam even got a chance to open her mouth. Eyes wide, she snapped the phone shut and headed for her dorm. She had just enough time to drop off her things and find a sweater – October was turning out to be ridiculously cold up here – before heading to meet Mike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’d been waiting for almost fifteen minutes when he finally came in the door. He was wearing a pork-pie hat that he’d found at a thrift store a few weeks back. She hadn’t seen him without it since.

He scanned the room quickly, located Sam, and rushed over to her table. He sat down and immediately began talking.

“So I just called Paul, you know, to make sure that we were still having study group tomorrow night, and you will NEVER guess whose voice I heard in the background?”

“Satan,” Sam answered, her eyes sparkling in response to his enthusiasm.

“Close,” he said, not missing a beat. “Karen.”

Sam’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped in mock shock. “No! Never! I don’t believe it! Two friends hanging out together on a Friday morning? It could never happen!”

She grinned openly. Over the past several weeks, she’d gotten to see a number of different facets of Mike: there was pothead Mike, intellectual Mike, playboy Mike, and gossiping hen Mike. She couldn’t help but laugh to herself at his enthusiasm for “scoop.”

“Shut up,” Mike responded, looking particularly annoyed at her dramatic display. “No, the thing that I couldn’t believe was what she was saying in the background…”

He paused for dramatic effect, and Sam looked at her watch. “You know, I have class in an hour, how long is this going to take?”

“She was asking where the shampoo is,” he said conspiratorially, as though she hadn’t said anything at all. There was a long pause as Sam took in this information.

“That…” she began, her expression unreadable. “Means nothing to me.”

Mike’s eyes widened in frustration and he slammed his hands down on the table.

“Don’t you see? It means they slept together! Last night! Together! In the same bed! Having sex!” He said the last two parts rather loudly, illiciting some strange stares from the tables around them. Sam laughed a little, covering his hand with her own.

“All it means is that Karen had to wash her hair. Maybe she, I dunno, spilled something in it.”

Mike gave her a look that clearly stated that she was full of shit, but she waved it off.

“You’re right, it does sound suspicious, but I’m not going to jump to conclusions. Besides, if they are having a relationship, it’s none of our business.”

“It’s ALL of our business!” Mike responded with great fervor. “Don’t you understand what this means? This means that studying will never get done if they’re in the same room again! It totally affects us, and you know it.” He sat back with a triumphant smirk, positive he’d just won the argument.

Sam looked at him through narrowed eyelids, stirring her coffee slowly.

“Why is it that you have so much interest in other people’s sex lives?” she asked candidly. There was a pause as Mike processed that question, looking very confused.

“I…I’m not going to answer that, on the basis that it’s a completely irrelevant question. “

“It is not irrelevant! I mean, here you are gossiping…GOSSIPING, Mike, like a fifteen-year-old girl…about our two best friends getting it on, which, by the way, we’ve known has been coming for weeks, and which, by the way, we should be happy about, because they are our friends. Not to mention all the questions you ask me about Brent. I don’t ask you about your…about your masturbation habits, do I?”

“No,” he responded quickly, his eyes innocent and unblinking. “But I’d never hold anything back from you. Because you’re my friend. You, on the other hand, don’t seem to trust me with that kind of information at all. Why?”

Sam shook her head, marveling at how easily he could turn a conversation back around on somebody. One minute, you think you have the upper hand, the next, you’re beneath his boot heel of logic.

“I’m just…” she sighed. “I’m not comfortable talking about it,” she finished lamely.

“Why? Isn’t it any good?”

She wrinkled her eyebrows at him in annoyance, but only to mask the fact that her brain was working hard over that question.

Sex was great, there was no question about that. He was experienced, he was gentle, and attentive. He treated her like a lady in bed, and she appreciated all of that. However, that sort of treatment only went so far with her in the real world. His dates had continued to be surprising and interesting, and soon had become predictably unpredictable. He fussed over her in restaurants, making her blush beneath the odd stares of the other patrons. When she wasn’t available to him after he’d had a bad day, he moped like a wounded puppy. In truth, she would have dumped him already, except for one singular, unavoidable fact: she was afraid that she’d never find another man who would treat her as well as he did.

“Hello? Sam? You have a class in an hour, how long is this going to take?” Mike’s voice suddenly snapped her out of her deep thought, and she gladly reverted her attention to the twinkle in his eyes. No matter what, Mike always at least amused her, and at most, gave her excellent advice. In fact, he could probably give her the best advice possible regarding her situation with Brent, but the fact that she was still uncertain about Mike and Brent’s previous acquaintance made her wonder if his advice wouldn’t be a little biased.

She shook her head. “Forget it. I’m not talking to you about this.”

“Dammit!” Mike whispered. His lazy smile was quick to return, and he began to drum his fingers on the edge of the table. Sam watched his fingers move, up and down, quickly, then slowly, practicing a piece no doubt. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she grinned at him. He stopped abruptly and looked at her, suspicion creeping into his gaze.

“What?” he asked slowly, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

“Oh, nothing,” she said sweetly. “Just…wondering if you would mind doing me a teensy little favor?”

Mike groaned. “Shit, this always gets me in trouble. What do you want?” he asked, sighing.

“Would you mind accompanying me tomorrow afternoon so I can get some practice? I’m supposed to spend some time in a rehearsal room with a pianist, and…well, you’re the only one I know who won’t charge me.”

“I won’t?” Mike snapped. “Anyway, I don’t think this would be a good idea.”

“Why not?” Sam asked, a perfected pout slowly growing on her face.

“Stop that! You know that shit doesn’t work on me!” Mike said, exasperated. “Besides, you know what they say about friends who play music together…”

“No. What?” Sam asked curiously.

“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d heard something about it so I’d have an excuse not to abandon my very busy Saturday afternoon for you.”

“Oh, well if you’re busy, then just say no,” she responded simply.

“Sam,” Mike smiled at her teasingly. “I’m a nerdy, anti-social, piano-playing jackass. I have no plans tomorrow afternoon. Let’s meet in Room 4 at 4:30, okay? We’ll just go straight to study group from there.”

Sam smiled gratefully and looked at her watch again. “Oh, shit, I forgot I’m supposed to help Sarah with her lines today. Thanks, babe,” she said quickly, standing and stooping to kiss Mike on the cheek before she left.

“See you tomorrow!” she called. She didn’t feel Mike’s gaze on her back as she headed out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Sam was snuggling with Brent. They were watching the remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and laughing uproariously.

“This is why music video directors shouldn’t direct movies,” Brent said as they watched Jessica Biel sobbingly stab her friend in the chest. “I mean, look at that, she’s showering in his blood! How bizarre is that?”

Sam giggled a little, reaching for the bowl of popcorn on Brent’s lap. “I don’t know, but I do notice that that little knot tied in her shirt has yet to come loose. Oh, and look! There’s no blood on her now!”

The two laughed some more as they watched. Sam felt a tad sadistic laughing so much, but really…it was really bad.

“Oh, I love this,” she murmured happily.

“I love you,” Brent whispered, kissing the side of her head. He’d said it a few times before, and had even nodded understandingly, if disappointedly, when she’d admitted that she wasn’t ready to say it back yet. “As long as we’re aware of each other’s feelings about this at all times,” he’d even said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “I’ll be fine with whatever.”

She snuggled happily into his chest and continued watching for a while.

“Oh, hey,” she said suddenly as the credits began to roll. “I wanted to remind you about my recital.”

“Oh yeah, when is that again?” Brent asked as he retrieved the DVD from the player and replaced it in its case.

“The 21st. Two weeks exactly from today.”

“You’re kidding,” Brent said, slapping his forehead in exasperation. “I have to work that night!”

Sam looked at him with disappointment in her eyes.

“Well, can’t you get someone to cover?” she asked before she even realized how pushy that question sounded.

“Babe,” he said patiently, coming to sit next to her on the couch. “I got someone to cover tonight. I really can’t do that again.”

“But I didn’t ask you to do that tonight,” Sam pointed out. “That was your idea.”

“I know, and had I known that your recital was in two weeks, I wouldn’t have. But what’s done is done. I can’t ask Kelley to cover for me again, and besides, I really can’t afford to miss anymore work. I’m sorry,” he finished, leaning over and giving her a tender kiss on the mouth. Sam smiled at him, trying to hide her disappointment.

“It’s okay, baby,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “There will be other recitals.”

Brent leaned down and kissed her again, slowly maneuvering their bodies so that she was beneath him. She smiled and returned his kiss with great enthusiasm, but in the back of her mind a single thought lingered.

‘There will be other recitals…and other men, too.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam heard Mike before she saw him. Hovering near the doorway, she watched in awe as he furiously pounded on the piano in Rehearsal Room 4, playing with great emotion what sounded like a full-blown concerto, but one she didn’t recognize.

He played with such passion, and grace, and his chops were fantastic. She watched as his fingers moved faster than seemed humanly possible, and noticed a very strange feeling growing in her abdomen. The closest thing she could relate it to was desire – which wouldn’t be too much of a stretch, since piano players always made her shiver – but there was something different about this feeling. Something akin to pride, and humility.

He caught her eye just as his thumb was executing a perfect glissando, but instead of stopping, he went on to perform a very dramatic and heavy-chorded version of “shave and a haircut.”

When it was over, Sam applauded politely, and Mike leapt up from the bench, taking a deep, enthusiastic bow.

“Why in such a good mood today, Mike?” she asked innocently as she entered the room. “Didja get some last night? Oops…sorry, I forgot,” she finished, looking at him with mock regret. He shot her a dirty look and sat back down at the bench.

“No, I’m just delirious with excitement about the prospect of finally hearing my dear friend Sam really sing for the first time ever.”

Sam suddenly looked anxious. “Don’t…don’t expect anything great. I mean, there’s a reason I’m having to practice like this. It’s not going to sound very good.”

Mike grinned and stuck out his hand, silently asking her for the sheet music. There was a trace of glee in his eyes, but Sam chose not to take note of it. The glee faded, however, when he saw what the piece was. His face scrunched up in anguish.

“Christ, I hate this song!” he complained.

“Tough luck, kiddo,” she responded, trying to look offended. “Because it’s what I’m singing at my recital in two weeks, which you, by the way, are going to attend.”
“What, is lover-boy not going to be there?” Mike asked suddenly, giving her a penetrating glare that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. He was aware that she had yet to tell Brent about her friendship with Mike, and on some level it seemed to bother him. She shook her head distractedly.

“No, he has to work,” she said, trying to busy herself with her sheet music. “Come on, let’s just get started, okay?”

Mike raised his eyebrows in silent disapproval and concentrated on the music in front of him. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and he played a four-bar intro. Sam was almost taken aback. His intro was so well-played, it was hard to believe he had spontaneously come up with it right at that moment. By the time she was supposed to sing, she had almost forgotten that she had to. She caught herself, though, and began to sing aloud, her voice a little shaky from her nervousness.

“I was walkin’ along,
Mindin’ my business,
When out of that orange-colored sky…
Flash! Bam! Alakazam! Wonderful you came by…”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Mike said suddenly, waving his hands around in the air. Sam looked at him anxiously.

“What?”

“This is too high for you,” he said perceptively.

“Exactly! Which is why I have to practice.”

“If we took it down just a half-step it would be fine,” he pointed out.

“I know,” Sam said, exasperated. “But I’m supposed to sing it in this key.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking questions and just play. The piano player isn’t supposed to give orders anyway.”

“This piano player does,” he mumbled before picking back up with the introduction.

The two rehearsed for another two hours before Sam declared dramatically that she was going to die without food. Mike rolled his eyes, but eagerly packed everything up.

As the two headed out of the room, Sam looked at him questioningly.

“Hey, that thing that you were playing when I came in?” she asked curiously.

“Mm-hmm?”

“Who wrote that?”

“Me,” he answered, barely looking in her direction as they headed in the general direction of food. Sam faltered for a moment, falling just a step or two behind, as she took in that brief, unblinking answer.

‘Wow…’ she thought to herself, feeling once again that strange surge in her stomach. ‘Is it even possible that there’s more to this guy than I’ve already seen?’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Sam and Mike waited at Paul’s door, Sam was whispering frantically at Mike.

“So you promise not to say anything about it?”

“I promise,” Mike responded, rolling his eyes.

The second Paul opened the door, however, Mike immediately pushed his way in and began firing off questions left and right.

“When did you guys start sleeping together? When were you going to tell us that you were sleeping together? Why on earth are you sleeping together? Is she good?” he asked Paul. Then, to Karen, “Is HE good? How is it? Are you using protection?”

“Mike, shut the fuck up,” Karen said complacently, giving him the deadest stare she could muster. He did so, and the subject was officially dropped for the night, even though Mike kept shooting meaningful glances at Sam everytime either Paul or Karen addressed one another.

The study group was relatively short, and very productive. Sam markedly noticed that Karen seemed to have no intention of leaving as she and Mike made their way out the door. They walked in silence together, both enjoying the quiet time together.

Just as the elevator doors closed, however, Sam noticed his eyes on her. She turned and smiled at him a little, hoping that that was all he was looking for. He didn’t smile back, however, and even afterward, she still felt him staring at her. When the elevator reached the bottom floor, Mike hung back a moment and followed her out to the street, always remaining a step or two behind, keeping his gaze on her the whole time.

She began to feel uncomfortable when they reached the fork in the pathway at which they normally parted ways. He continued to follow her. She turned back and gave him a curious smile, trying to make light of her confusion.

“Why, Mike, are you walking me home?”

He smiled briefly at her, a strange smile she’d never seen before.

“It’s Saturday night, and campus is dangerous this time of year,” he answered simply. Sam hung back and gestured for him to walk alongside her. He closed the small gap between them and continued to walk very close to her, their arms almost brushing everytime they stepped.

By the time they reached her dorm, Sam was almost scared. She’d never seen Mike behave this way, and silly as it was, she began to run various ridiculous scenarios through her head: that Mike was a rapist, or a serial killer. She fumbled for her keys and was about to unlock the door when he stopped her with his hand against the doorframe. She turned to face him and found his face inches from hers.

She did her best to look at him as though he had lobsters crawling out of his ears, and offered a tiny, ridiculing smile.

“What the hell are you doing, Mike?” she half-whispered, feeling her heart begin to beat madly in her chest. It beat even harder when he leaned even closer, his cheek grazing against hers as he placed his lips near her ear.

“I’m waiting for you to admit it,” he whispered. His hot breath on her ear made her stomach leap.

“Admit what?” she whispered back shakily.

“That I was right,” he responded, his voice husky. She was suddenly overwhelmed by his scent. Irish Spring soap, and Pert Plus shampoo. He wore no cologne, but his natural scent was suddenly intoxicating to her.

“About what?” Her knees began to grow weak as he shifted slightly, bringing his body a tiny bit closer to hers.

“About Paul and Karen,” he murmured softly. They stood like that for a moment, Sam’s heart beating embarrassingly loud, and her breathing uneven. She slowly turned her head so she could see his profile. A wide, mischievous grin had spread across his face.

She placed her hands firmly on his chest and gave a very rough shove.

“Don’t be an ass, Mike,” she said, feeling tears of humiliation building up behind her eyes.

“Oh, come on!” Mike laughed. “That was hilarious!”

Sam shook her head at him disgustedly. “Goodnight, Mike.”

She slammed the door behind her and hid her face in her hands. Those feelings, even if they had been brought on by a nasty prank, scared her. Why should she feel that way with him?

“He’s such an ass!” she said aloud. She changed into a large t-shirt and slipped under the covers. Hours passed, however, before she could fall into a troubled sleep.



A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, and for its length. I hope that everyone who’s reading is still interested, and if you are, please leave a review! If you have any comments, questions, suggestions, or bomb threats, PLEASE let me know. I thrive on your approval!