I like to be the first one in the building every day. I do a check of every room, make sure the chairs are in place and stands are at the correct height for the first class. I assess the decorations on the walls and make sure they are relevant to the month’s theme. In a small room on the second floor, we keep an inventory of unused instruments. I double-check it every morning making sure nothing has been stolen.
When I have fully assessed the building, I make my way to my office. The building is mostly quiet. Classes don’t start until two and end around seven. That’s when the building is really alive.
Until then, I have to occupy my time, focusing on what needs to be done to enhance the program, move us forward, be the best.
Especially today.
After yesterday’s visit and last night’s dream I’m afraid I am losing my control.
I open the heavy stairwell door; there’s a jazz quartet playing down the hall. Last week, Frank and I started allowing people to rent the classrooms as rehearsal space. It is a great way to bring in extra revenue for the school.
We started making a schedule to start performance classes for mixed instruments on Saturdays in the spring. Next year we’ll host recitals in the performance room on the first floor. Until then, we just have to keep the school afloat and on track so we can grow.
I have applications for bands and performers who would like to utilize our space in the meantime. I have to review those this week. I open the door to Crystal’s classroom and see it is occupied.
“Hey, I didn’t know you’d be here so early. I—” My words stop mid-sentence when I see Crystal is not alone. She is standing in the middle of the room talking to Asher. He’s not wearing the suit and tie he’s been sporting around here for the last month. Today, he has on gray corduroys and a gold V-neck sweater. And those stupid loafers.
Crystal watches me enter and greets me merrily. “Good morning. Mr. Asher is here to discuss taking over more of my classes.”
My head twists in Asher’s direction. “I’m sorry, what?”
Asher places both hands in his pockets and leans back on his heels. “I have some free time, so I’d like to take over the advanced cello sessions.”
“Don’t you work?” My words startle Crystal. She doesn’t know Asher and I have a history and is visibly shocked I would talk to the head of the Asher empire this way.
“Nope,” he states simply, bouncing on his heels.
I turn to face Crystal. “You need this job to supplement your income. You can’t just give up four of your classes.”
She bites down on her forefinger and glances over at Asher like the cat that ate the canary. I volley back and forth between the two of them trying to decide what they’re not telling me.
Asher sees Crystal’s apprehension and answers for the two of them. “I’m paying her to take over her classes.”
My mouth falls open. “You can’t do that.”
With two slow strides, Asher walks toward me, saddling up next to me so our sides are touching, shoulder to bicep. He leans down and says directly into my ear, “I can and I will.”
Manipulator. He’s a liar, a coward, a taker, and now I can add manipulator to the long list of adjectives I have for Alexander Asher. I walk into my office and throw my bag on the floor. When I throw my phone on the desk, I notice a brown paper wrapped package with a twine string sitting beside it.
Tilting my head to the side, I look at it, wondering who would have left me a gift. I roll the tote strap off my shoulder and place the bag on my desk chair. Reaching over, I grab the package and pull the twine. When the string is undone, the paper opens quickly. Inside, is a brown, leather bound, journal with a leather tie and lined pages. I lift the book up and open the front to find a handwritten note.