A Taste of Candor

Chapter 7

~Declan.

I zipped my saxophone case shut with a sigh and put my sheet music away in a cranny of my bookshelf. Dedicating almost my entire practice session each day to sight-reading was definitely getting tiresome. I was making progress to be sure, just the process was painful. The toughest exercises were those that made no musical sense, but simply challenged me to follow the notes wherever they dictated.

Anyway, I headed to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice, only to discover I was all out. I pursed my lips, headed to the table, and added orange juice to a growing list of essentials I'd run out of. It appeared a trip to the supermarket was in order for me.

After getting dressed and putting a coat on, I headed out for my errand, a wad of bills in my pocket and an umbrella under my arm I probably wouldn't need. Thanks to the generosity of several patrons of Brewer's Coffee Shop in the five days I'd played in the jam sessions there, I'd not had to worry about money as much as I usually did. I might even be able to buy a treat at the supermarket for a change. I found that prospect exciting.

A five-minute walk, and I arrived. The pleasant ding of a bell fixed to the door handle welcomed me inside, as did the display of seasonal fruits at the entrance. Their vibrant reds, greens, and a few yellows and oranges were as delightful to look at as they probably were to taste. When I next breathed in, I realized they smelled equally pleasant.

I grabbed a hand basket, and after a moment's consideration, I picked up a carton of strawberries from the fruit display. They were just too tempting.

I made my way to the refrigerated section to get the orange juice I'd mainly come for. Given I had to pass through the cereal aisle to get there, I picked up a couple boxes.

When I did reach the shelf of refrigerated juices, I glanced up from my basket to see a well-muscled figure had gotten there before me. When he looked back, I recognized his face instantly—Keene Abrams, a man I'd met at a Brewer's jam session two days prior. He'd given me a generous sum of money and introduced me to the pretty lady I'd been repeatedly running into lately, whose name I now knew to be Tahlia Paige.

Keene didn't return the smile I gave him, but he did acknowledge my presence with a nod. "Hello again, Declan." he said in a level tone.

"Hello, Mr. Abrams." I replied, surprised he remembered my name so readily, "Fancy seeing you here."

"Indeed. Are you still playing at Brewer's?"

"Every day. It's been a great opportunity."

Keene nodded. "I'll bet. Miss Paige hasn't ceased speaking of your beautiful performance the other day even yet. I've never seen this out of her."

My eyes widened. "That's ... that's definitely an honor. I couldn't ask for a higher compliment."

"Neither should you need one, I think." Keene remarked with a chuckle.

"True. Has she had any luck getting a new saxophonist? I guess it's an assumption that you'd know, but—"

"As far as I'm aware, her father is still sorting things out with the guild. Last I heard, they were considering breaking ties altogether, for the guild is insisting they have no way of screening their members thoroughly enough to fit the Paiges' standards."

I frowned. "That seems absurd. The entire purpose of the guild is to match musicians to their clients, isn't it?"

"You're exactly right! All the Paiges are asking is that they make better matches on their behalf."

"I honestly expected better from the guild."

Keene nodded. "Me too. Just out of curiosity ... are you interested in the position if the Paiges do give you a call?"

"I mean ... sure. I do need to pay my bills, after all." I laughed nervously. "I'm by no means a perfect player or anything, but I try my best at whatever I do.

"You sound like you have a better attitude than some of the other folks they've had recently, so that definitely counts in your favor. You ever played in a big band before?"

"Actually, I haven't. Do you think that'd be a problem?"

Keene shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Maybe. I wouldn't be the one to ask. But as long as you can play and read well, you probably have a chance of hitting the ground running."

Inwardly, I balked a little, given both technique and reading were my weak points. But in order not to disqualify myself, I kept a straight face and simply gave a pleasant nod. After a moment of awkward silence, I stepped forward to grab my orange juice.

"Well, thanks for your time, Mr. Abrams." I said, looking up from my basket after putting the juice in, "Have a blessed day."

"Likewise." Keene replied in a clipped tone, and with that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

I let out a sigh of relief when he left earshot. A blanket of tension that I hadn't realized was resting over my body washed away. Something about Mr. Abrams was oddly intimidating. I felt like every moment around him, I had to work to prove I was worthy to even breathe the same air. I couldn't put a finger on why that was, but it didn't even seem to be something intentional on his part. With another deep breath, I continued my shopping. I'd have to practice a second time when I got home ... work hard on preparing in case my telephone rang soon with a call to audition for the Paiges' band.

* * * * *

A/N: Short chapter, I know, but I can't always be super long-winded, lol. Still, if you enjoyed, do remember to vote ad comment! ❤️

Since the chapter was short, I'll also try to be short here, so random question! Is your desk (or work area in general) neat and tidy, or a bit of a mess?

(I'm fairly organized with everything but my desk, actually. When the genius is at work, he doesn't have time to make everything nice and orderly. 😂)

Have a great week, and I'll see you in the next update!