Nightmare on Broadway (California Dreaming Sequel)

Chapter Six

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  I was twiddling my biro between my first and second finger, tapping the plastic lid against the smooth, wooden desk. My eyes scanned the page we were studying, what settings you used when using MIDI instruments and how those settings varied depending on the software you were using. There were some simple questions written up on the blackboard, and I scribbled down the answers in my notebook, running my finger over the lines of text as I searched for the right words and terms to use. 

   “Okay, great job you musical geniuses!” Art called, standing up from his desk and slipping his pair of glasses up on top of his head. He massaged the bridge of his nose and jotted down something in his teacher’s planner, striding over to the board and scrubbing out the notes in white chalk. 

   Everyone began packing up their things, shuffling their books and pens across the tables and dropping them into their bags. I reached for Henry’s skateboard beneath the desk and packed away my pair of reading glasses, checking my phone for any messages. I had one, from Henry, telling me to get my arse outside. 

   “Jia?” Arthur turned around and called my name, and my head shot upright. “I want to talk to you about something, do you have some time?” He asked, I just nodded and stood up, slipping out of my row of seats and making my way down to the front of the class. I gripped onto the skateboard with one hand and wrapped my other arm across my chest. 

   “Mr. Wayland?” I asked, stroking a piece of long, dark hair behind my ear. 

   “Art,” he corrected me, “here, Jia, take a seat,” he pulled up a chair for me and placed it next to his desk, sitting down in his seat and rearranging some papers on his desk. He found a piece of scrap paper and held his palm against it, turning to where I was seated. I bit my lip curiously, unsure to why he had wanted me to stay behind after class. 

   “I’m sorry, I’m not sure if I understand why I’m here?” I twitched my mouth, putting my bag down on the floor along with my sweatshirt and skateboard. 

   “I have a little proposition for you,” he explained, crossing his legs one over the other. I widened my eyes subconsciously, beginning to feel uneasy in my tutor’s company, “oh wait!” He obviously sensed my alarm, “That didn’t come out right!” He chuckled, “I meant, I have an extra credit project I thought you might be interested in.” 

   “Just to clarify,” I narrowed my eyes inquisitively, “there are no sexual favors involved?” 

   “None, I promise,” Art chuckled, adjusting the stiff collar of his button down shirt. 

   Arthur Wayland was one of the most intriguing people I think I had ever met, he was a classically trained cellist who’d given up on Los Angeles Philharmonic to become a pop music producer. His hair was ice blonde, and he wore it smoothed back against his skull with hair gel. His eyes were big, and the irises were coloured the palest, translucent blue, giving the illusion that with one look, you could see directly into his soul. 

   “Would you be interested?” He raised his eyebrows, although they were so pale they were almost invisible against his porcelain skin. He was tapping his fingers over the desk, his fingernails clipping against the wood. 

   “Well, it depends what it is,” I said curiously. 

   “It wouldn’t count towards your end grade, however, I think it will seriously help you with the career you want to pursue,” Art explained, although I was still unsure about what he was asking of me.