Chapter 4: Introducing Leo Blake...
Chapter 4: Introducing Leo Blake...
If you need to catch up, here’s what you’ve missed so far:
The teasing twinkle in her eyes slowly melts into something warm and wicked as she assesses me across the table, and honestly, I'm not mad about it. I can’t stop looking at her myself. The way she’s fidgeting in her seat, unconsciously stroking the sides of her cup with those deft but delicate fingers, and then the almost imperceptible creasing between her brows as she shakes herself out of the moment.
“So. Leo.” Apparently it’s her turn to ask the questions. I like a woman who can hold her own in a conversation.
“What do you do?” Those emerald eyes still fixed on me.
“I’m a musician,” I reply, starting with the short answer and taking another mouthful of my coffee.
“Oh, cool. Like, in a band, or…?” she lets her question hang, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.
“No, pianist actually. More classical stuff. Some work with orchestras, a bit of recording occasionally. I compose a few things for fun. And I did a bit of online teaching during the lockdowns.”
Good, keep it brief, vague. She’s highly unlikely to be into my kind of music anyway.
“Ah that’s amazing, did you enjoy the teaching? I know so many people who took up new hobbies thanks to Zoom and YouTube and things. I toyed with the idea myself, maybe some craft tutorials, but I never could quite get the hang of camera angles and editing.”
Her soft chuckle and open smile warm me more than the coffee is doing.
“I did actually, more than I thought I would,” I answer honestly, “it was good to help pass on some skills and maybe even inspire more young musicians. Plus it helped fill the time when I couldn’t do public performances with all the concert venues closed.”
“Oh wow!” Meg exclaims, her eyes going wide, “You perform? You must be really good then.”
I am. Really good. The word prodigy has been bandied about. But I tend to ignore it.
I take a sip of coffee instead before replying.
“Well…yeah…I guess…” Humble. Self-deprecating. Good, stick with that.
An odd look comes over her, like she’s trying to remember something but can’t quite drag it from the recesses of her memory.
“What kind of music do you play?”
I shrug, searching for vague again, but a little imp of pride hijacks the end of my answer.
“Mostly classical, all sorts really, I don’t have a particular favourite…but I’m giving a Mozart recital next week.”
She sits back in her seat, that curiously assessing look back again, her head tilting slightly to one side sending her curls cascading over her shoulder, and I wonder how soft and silky they would be to run through my fingers, or see fanned out over my pillow…
“Leo?” Her voice cuts into the daydream and I snap my eyes back to her face.
“Hmm?” I ask wordlessly, not trusting what might come out of my mouth just now.
“What’s your surname?” Her question holds both wariness and anticipation, though I’m not entirely sure why.
“Blake, why?”
What comes out of her mouth next is not what I was expecting at all.
“Oh my god I wake up with you every morning!”
Meg’s hands cover her mouth to stop any further explanation, her eyes the widest I’ve seen them, and a very attractive blush colouring her cheeks.
I’m stunned into silence for a moment. I think I manage to blink once. But I definitely don’t know how to respond to that.
My imagination – and certain parts of my anatomy – however, have gone full technicolour-surround-sound with the image of Meg in my bed, wrapped in my arms…
The silence stretches on for what feels like an eternity before Meg seems to gather herself, dragging in a deep breath before releasing her hands.
“Uh…I mean…that came out wrong…sorry…” another deep breath as she touches her palms to her flaming cheeks.
“I mean on the radio. I listen to you on the radio. In the mornings. When I wake up. They always play a piano piece just after my alarm goes off, and it’s nearly always…you. Except I didn’t know it was you, I just hear the name ‘Leo Blake’ and then the most beautiful music…and now you’re here, a real person…and I…” her hands flutter in front of her face, “Sorry…oh this is so embarrassing…I didn’t mean to…wow, I’ll stop talking now…”
Her eyes drop and she starts twisting a paper napkin on the table between her hands, her knuckles turning white from the tension.
I need a moment to process this. And for my body to calm down and the blood to return to my brain.
First, I know my recordings get played on the radio, after all, I keep getting the royalty payments, but I didn’t know I apparently have a regular slot in the schedule. That’s…kinda cool, actually.
And second, I didn’t think many people under the age of fifty listened to classical piano these days, and certainly not a vibrant, fun, clearly creative but modern young woman like Meg.
But, if the warm sensation in my chest is anything to go by, I’m inordinately pleased that she does.
Finally I remember how to speak, and try to ease some of the embarrassment she’s clearly feeling as she peeks up at me through her lashes from across the table.
“Wow. OK. Well…thank you. I’m glad somebody listens.” I aim for humour to diffuse the moment, sending a smile her way.
“You really like that kind of music?” I can’t help asking. After all, it could just be convenience or patchy signal having her radio tuned to that station.
“Oh yes,” she sighs, finally lifting her head, the most beautiful smile she’s bestowed on me yet lifting her face, a look of pure bliss softening her features…and I’m back to imagining her in bed, tangled in the sheets after…
“I really do,” she continues.
Pay attention, I mentally shake myself.
“I mean, I love all sorts of music really, but there’s something about a really accomplished musician getting the best out of their instrument, conveying so much feeling and emotion, as well as the technical skill…”
I will most definitely take that compliment…assuming she means me…
“I just get swept away sometimes” and she lets out another breathy sigh of contentment that makes me want to hear it every day.
“I wish I’d learned an instrument as a child, but it was just too expensive for my parents…but I still love listening. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a live concert though, I mostly just listen to the radio or online these days. I guess you must have to practise a lot?”
I nod, still internally rejoicing at her enthusiasm for something that’s such an all-encompassing passion for me, no matter how I try to downplay it when asked.
“Yeah, sure. Depending on what I’m rehearsing for.” I answer. “I do try to play a bit more just for fun these days too though, some more modern stuff, film scores, pop songs sometimes, the variety keeps it interesting. And then sometimes it’s good to take a day away and do other things, like running the gauntlet of Oxford Street on a Saturday, or asking a beautiful woman out for coffee.”
I offer her what I hope is charming smile which elicits another of those pretty blushes, and then I replay what I just said in my head, realising how that last part might sound.
“I mean, not that I ask every woman I meet for coffee…I, uh…actually I never do…you’re the first in…a really long time.”
I’m not going to tell her, but I actually can’t remember the last time I went out on a date.
My schedule tends to be crazy, whether it’s the hours of practising, or days in recording studios or rehearsing with an orchestra for a concert. And then there was the pandemic, and…well, I suppose it just dropped off my radar.
Not that I’ve minded. I’m generally independent and happy in my own company.
But now, sitting here with Meg, something stirs inside me and I want to keep talking with her for hours. I want to see her again. I want to go places with her, and sit at home watching TV cuddled on the sofa, take her to concerts, maybe teach her to play the piano…
Imagining that future should send me into a cold sweat and running for the door, but the way she’s looking at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, a spark of something that, to my currently addled brain at least, looks like interest, hope, maybe even…desire…in her eyes that sends heat spreading through me and holds me mesmerised…I couldn’t move if I tried.
I’m very likely going to be moving this story to its own dedicated Substack home, so keep an eye out for that as you’ll be able to subscribe to follow every new chapter.
But I hope you’re still enjoying this as much as I am!