I reached down to open my cello case, celebrating for two seconds inside until I felt Pornsake hovering over me again. “Except for you, Grace. Stick around.”
I froze in my chair with my eyes fixed on his beige Top-Siders. I had a sick feeling in my stomach, wondering if he was going to wait for everyone to leave the room so he could proposition me.
Crossing my legs and arms, I sat back in my cold metal chair and waited as the other students packed up. Tati turned around and looked at me blankly. Smoothing her frizzy brown hair into a ponytail, she whispered, “Why does he want you to stay?”
I shrugged. “No clue.”
“Hey, do you and Matt want to hang out tonight? Brandon wants to get drunk.”
“Why do you always assume I’ll be with Matt? We’re not dating.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know, you don’t date. I assume you’ll be with Matt ’cause you guys are always together.”
“I need to study, actually. I’m staying home tonight. Matt can do whatever he wants, though.” It seemed like everyone thought Matt and I were a couple. I was feeling the pressure to get my application in for grad school, which seemed like the logical next step, but it was like I had no self-control when it came to Matt. I wanted to be with him every second of the day, but my grades were suffering, and I knew I’d slip out of first chair with my stupid antics.
“Why don’t you and Matt just bone and get it over with already?”
Pornsake walked up at that moment. “Well, Tatiana, it’s a blessing, and quite frankly a miracle, that your vulgarity has not seeped into your craft.” Pornsake was always blabbering about craft. Tatiana was a phenomenal musician, but once she put the violin down there was nothing classical about her. She had a tough exterior and a lot of Jersey girl in her.
“Thanks, Teach, I’ll take that as a compliment. Bye, Grace.” She picked up her violin case. As she left the room, she called back over her shoulder, “Come over tonight after you and Matthias bone.”
Pornsake stared down at me, expressionless. “Take a walk with me?”
I figured being in public was a good option. “Sure.” I stood and followed him out the door. He walked at a faster-than-normal pace, and I quickly ran out of breath, lugging my cello case behind me, trying to keep up. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. It’s just down here.” We walked four blocks until we got to the corner of a small brick building. We were standing in front of a music store. There was no signage but I could see musical instruments through the glass door. “This is Orvin’s shop. He’s the best bow-maker on the planet.”
I sucked air in through my teeth. “Professor . . .”
“Please, call me Dan.”
“Dan . . . I don’t have the money to buy a new bow. I was just going to have mine restrung.”
He bobbed his head in understanding. “Grace, I don’t normally do these kinds of things for my students, but I want to do this for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to buy you a bow because you’re very talented. I love the way you play, and you have a great instrument there.” He glanced down at my case. “You should have a great bow.”
While he waited for my response, I looked at the way his eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled, and for the first time I found charm in his good-humored face. “Okay,” I replied.
“Come on, you have to meet this guy.” He opened the door and motioned for me to go inside. Behind the counter stood a small man, at least seventy years old, with a bit of gray hair sprouting wildly from the sides of his head.
“Daniel, my boy,” he said in a thick German accent. “Who have you brought to me?”
“Orvin, this is my most talented student, Grace.” Wow, really? I had no idea.
I set my cello down, leaned over the counter, and shook his hand. He held my hand in his for a few seconds, inspecting it. “Small and delicate for a cellist, but strong, I can see.”
“Yes. Grace needs a new bow, and I’d like for her to have the best.”
“Sure, sure, I have something that would fit her perfectly.” He went into the back room and came out with the most beautiful bow I had ever seen. He handed it to me, and the soft wood at the base felt like butter between my fingers. “Wow, this is so smooth.”
“It’s brazilwood and real silver, made with the finest horse hair,” Dan said. Orvin nodded. A moment later, Dan pulled his checkbook out of his back pocket, looked over to Orvin, and arched his eyebrows.
“Eleven,” Orvin said.
“Eleven what?” I said, my voice rising.
Neither answered me. “Be right back,” Orvin said, heading into the back room and returning a moment later with the bow wrapped up.
Dan handed him a check, took the bow, and looked over at me. “Ready?”
I shot him my best hairy eyeball. “You’re kidding me, right? You just bought me an eleven-hundred-dollar bow?”
“Consider it an investment. Come on.”
Once outside, he tried to hand me the bow wrapped in paper.