London Harmony: Doghouse (11 page)

I arrived at Ponsonby Place shortly after.  The doors were locked as always and I rang the visitor's bell.  A minute later, Amarissa stepped out into the large lobby where there were students using a few of the comfortable looking couches and chairs set up for them to have a quiet place to study.

I nervously smiled and waved at her through the door.  She studied me for a moment then just shook her head sadly and walked away, leaving me standing stupidly at the door watching her leave me there.

I gritted my teeth and started ringing the door again.  I knew it buzzed in the office and in her room, being the hall matron.  I would annoy her to death until she talked with me and I could clear things up.  I... missed speaking to her.  Missed verbally sparring, missed the feel of her hand in mine.  What in the hell has happened to me?  I've never let myself become this attached before.  This whole thing is Scratch's fault.  If I ever saw her again, I'd... I'd... I don't know, but it would be unpleasant.

After a few minutes, a pretty young woman came into the lobby staring at the door, speaking into her cell.  She nodded and put it in her pocket and started striding to the door with intent, her eyes narrowed at me.  She was a fairly tall woman who looked to be in great athletic shape.  Her chocolate brown skin was tight against the muscles in her arms.  She wore a string tank top and shorts that let her display equally toned legs.

She stopped at the door, making no move to open it as she scrutinized me.  It was sort of unnerving, it was like she was determining the best way to disassemble me and pack me away into little zip lock bags for disposal. Then she spoke, her voice attenuating through the glass door. “Eliza?”

I nodded and she nodded once and replied, “Go away, she doesn't want to see you.”  She started to turn away.

I put a hand on the door. “Wait... umm...”  I left it a question.

She paused and looked at me then back into the building and said, “Max.”

I pleaded, “Please, Max, I need to speak with her.  I need to explain what...”

She shook her head and said, “Go home.  She doesn't want to speak with you.”  Then she walked away.  I would have been furious at the woman if it wasn't for one thing.  The woman was protecting Amy.  The little runt had some good friends.

My chest was tightening.  I've never really felt much anxiety before, and it was a foreign feeling now that it seemed to have my insides all twisted about.  How the hell had I fallen for someone I can't have?  I stood there looking in for a minute before I realized everyone in the lobby had stopped their studies and were looking up at me.

I blushed and turned around and hurried down the walk.  Just what the heck was I going to do?  In London less than a week, and I've lost my passport and my heart.  Shit.  I wiped a tear off my cheek with the back of my sleeve.

I just aimlessly walked, trying to figure out what I was going to do next.  The logical thing was to find an in at the Factory, play the venue then go back to the States and forget about everything.  I chuckled at myself, since when was I ever logical?

I found myself down by the river.  I walked the Thames for a bit.  My heart had never hurt like this before.  I saw a pretty looking pier with barges that looked to have tiny apartment buildings built on them.  And in front of them, there were some beautiful cast iron benches overlooking the water on the boardwalk.

I walked over and sat on one of the benches to give my aching feet a rest.  I looked around, the banner on the pier read, The Flotilla Project, Low and No Income Housing, and a phone number.  I looked at the boats again and blinked, they were possibly the nicest low-income housing I had ever seen.

Then I got lost watching the gentle swirling currents of the Thames.  I silently cried as I wondered what I was doing.  Not just with Amy, but my life.  I had no real plan in life.  I was living in the moment, fulfilling a promise, living the music.  It was a promise not to just Uncle Slade, but to myself.

My song was coming to an end and I didn't know if there would be an encore.  Who was Eliza Montrose once I finished my life's goal here in London?  For the third time in my life, I felt completely lost, completely alone.

Someone sat on the other side of the bench.  There were a half dozen other benches, why sit on one someone was using.  I glanced over.  A stunning woman with strong Indian features and her hair pulled back into a ponytail sat there.  She wore an impeccably pressed skirt suit and she just stared out over the water.

She said in a posh English accent,  “You seem lost.”

I stared at her a moment, wondering if she meant I wasn't supposed to be there or she was just reading me that well.  She finally turned to me and the look in her chocolate brown eyes told me it was the latter.

I was hit with a wall of emotion I didn't understand and my shoulders started shaking as I began to cry.  The woman was instantly beside me hugging me as I sobbed into her shoulder.  She just sat there, this stranger, holding me and stroking my hair, making shushing sounds.

When I finally composed myself and pulled back, she offered a handkerchief, not a tissue, but an actual handkerchief.  She gave a gentle smile as I dried my eyes and cheeks.  I smiled nervously and looked at the sky.  “I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me.”  Then I looked at her and smiled awkwardly. “Rough week.”

She stood, hooking her arm in mine and pulling me to my feet.  “Walk with me, tell me all about it.  It's amazing how cathartic just putting it all out there can be.  And I'm a stranger, so you know I won’t share your secrets, we'll probably never see each other aftd she gave me eased my indecision as she said, “The two proper responses here are either, yes ma'am, or yes Paya.”

Her friggin' smile was contagious.  I smiled and rolled my eyes, “Yes Paya.”

She patted my arm in hers and said, “There's a good girl.  Now tell me things...”  She left it hanging.

I looked at her, she was really serious, what kind of person asked a stranger to tell her their troubles?  I offered, “Liza Montrose.”

My name seemed to take her by surprise as her eyebrows rose just a fraction of an inch, but she recovered instantly.  “Paya Doshi.  It is a pleasure to meet you, Liza.  So tell me, what has you all twisted up like this?”

I don't know why I did it, maybe because she seemed so earnest and sincere, but I poured out my story to her as we walked the river.  The satchel she carried and her wardrobe told me she had someplace important to be, yet she chose instead to listen to a stranger talk of her troubles.  I'd hazard to guess that Miss Doshi was one in a million.

We wound up in a coffee house as I finished.  I had even let slip that Scratch had my passport when she asked how I met Amarissa.  She burst out in a quick peal of laughter at Scratch's name and she said cryptically.  “Should have known that June was somehow in the middle of this ball of yarn.”

I asked in confusion, “What?”

She waved it off. “It's nothing.  Just a small world at times.”  Then she tilted her head at me and grinned.  “I think you are a lot more put together than you think.  Well except how you obtain your ill-gotten booty... or is that ill booten gotty?”

I grinned into my coffee cup at her humor, I really did feel better getting it all out there.  The anxiety that had been building and the feeling of being lost had abated a bit.  Then I paused.  I hadn't told her about my umm... financing habit, nor how Scratch had obtained my passport.

I looked her over again.  She was just the type I would target. Well-dressed professional who could afford to make a donation to my cause without knowing it.

I tilted my head at my cup, was she just that intuitive?  She was a phenomenal listener and could hold up her side of the conversation, and guide it in a way that I shared more than I intended. Maybe Paya was just that intelligent.  She seemed to genuinely care about people she didn't even know.

That thought made me look at her as I put two and two together.  We met on the Flotilla Project pier, she didn't look the type that needed low or zero income housing.  I'd bet dollars to donuts that she was involved in running the charity in some way.

She asked, “You feeling a little better after being able to talk about it, Liza?”

I nodded and she smiled genuinely and pulled a card out of her satchel and handed it to me.  I looked at it as she said, “Feel free to call me anytime if you want to talk more.  I am always available.”

As I thought, her card read, Paya Doshi, Director, The Flotilla Project.  Then she added,  “And if you decide to stay in London, I can help you with lodging until you get your feet beneath you.”  Then she added with a humor tinged voice, “Legitimately.”

I reached over and shoved her shoulder lightly.  She gave me a toothy, cheesy grin in response.  We stood and she nudged her head to the door and said, “Walk a girl back to her car?”  I nodded and we paid at the register and strolled back to the pier.

I noted the coffee house was just a couple blocks away from Cavendish's Cafe, that was the small world thing Paya spoke of.  It was like all my experiences here in London were connected in some way I just couldn't put a finger on.

We stopped at a dark SUV and she got in, holding the door open.  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Liza.”

I grinned and leaned in and gave the woman a hug.

I replied, “The feeling is mutual.  You are a singularly...”  I searched for a word. “Unique woman.”  She crinkled her nose cutely at that.  I shook my head at her antics and finished with.  “But seriously, thank you so much for just listening to a manic musician babble.”

She looked at me a moment and exhaled.  She gave a sly smirk, “You're not the first, you won't be the last.  Now take care, and don't give up on Amy, she's worth the effort.”

She shut the door and as I watched her pull away from the curb, I squinted at a realization.  “I had never called Amarissa, Amy, when I spilled out my heart and troubles in our discussions.”  I watched the vehicle disappear into traffic.  Just who the hell was this Paya lady anyway?

Sometimes I feel like a passenger in my own life.  Or a mushroom.  Kept in the dark and fed a lot of shit.  It was almost like there was a game afoot and I didn't know all the players or rules.

My cell started ringing and I checked the time, wow, it was already almost four in the afternoon.  Where had the time gone?  I felt the corners of my lips twitch up in a smile as I saw Gina on the screen.  I answered, “Hey lady.  How did it go?”

She sounded like she was hyperventilating.

“Get your butt over here.  I need to talk to someone before I explode.”

I chuckled and agreed and hung up.  I spun on my heel and started walking back toward her place.

When I got to Gina's flat, she tore the door open before I could knock, she looked around as if to make sure I was alone and then bodily pulled me into her place and shut the door.  Leaning her back against it.

I would have been worried except for the almost manic grin on her face.  I pursed my lips from the effort of not grinning myself and asked, “So?  How did the date go?”

She smiled and slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor, I squatted to keep eye contact with the silly woman.  She took a deep breath and exhaled then offered her hand, “Hello, I'm very pleased to meet you.  I'm Gina and I'm a lesbian.”

I chuckled at her playfulness and ignored the hand and leaned in to hug her instead.  She made it a silly side to side hug.  She was full of pent up energy.  I stood, pulling her to her feet and dragged her to the couch.  “Go on now, tell Aunt Liza everything.”

She swung side to side. “Bloody hell.  It was magical.  And when I dropped her at her place.  She pinned me against her door and laid a snogging on me I can still feel all the way down into my toes.”  Her eyes were twinkling.  “If I'm not a bloody lesbian, then I'm damn sure Valerie-sexual.”

I held both of her hands as we sat across from each other with our legs folded beneath us.  “What happened next?”

She blushed and squished her shoulders up as she crinkled her nose.  “The minx grinned at me, moved me aside and stepped into her place as she breathed out, “I had a lot of fun.  Call me, Gin.  I thought I was about to burst into flames, she left me so hot and bothered.”

I nodded in appreciation. “She set the hook.  Very nice.”

Gina tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “How so?”

I pushed my tongue into my cheek to prevent from laughing at my friend.  “It means she is really into you.  Heating you up at the door like that and leaving you in that condition guarantees you'll call her.”

She bit her lower lip then looked around as if to make sure nobody was listening.  “You think she's into me?”

I nodded.  “Absolutely.  She'd be stupid not to be.”

She bobbled around like she was trying to prevent herself from hopping up and down on the couch.  Then she said with a look of combined bashfulness and pride.  “She really liked my outfit.  Thank you for that.”

I marveled at how excited she was about the possibilities of a new relationship.  I realized it had been the same way I felt about Amy, even though she frustrated me.  Paya was right, I shouldn't give up.  I'd make her listen.  If she'd just give me thirty seconds I could show her, it wasn't what she was thinking.

I exhaled and then said, “Tell me everything from the beginning.  I want all the details lady.”  I inwardly chuckled, it was like a military debriefing.

Then I sat back and listened to my best friend describe her date in detail like it was her first time dating.  I narrowed my eyes a bit. I had to ask her about that.  Was this really her fist date ever?  Had she allowed her fear to stop her from ever putting herself out there with another?

I was again struck by my protective streak I had with her.  She really was my best friend wasn't she?  Can someone you've only known a week become your best friend?  I nodded to myself as I listened to my best friend describe her best day ever.  It made me feel much better for some reason.

When she was done and I was serving her a cup of coffee from the pot I brewed as she spoke, I said, “You, my dear Gina, are smitten.”

She smiled into her coffee as she took a sip.  “Whatever makes you say that?”

I would have thrown a pillow at the woman if she didn't have a cup of hot liquid in her hands.  Instead, I lightly slapped her knee.  I said in a mock British accent, “You cheeky bird.”  This got her giggling.  Life wasn't looking too bad at that moment in time.

Then she paused and grabbed her cell in her free hand.  “Should I call?  It's too soon right?  I mean we just saw each other not two hours ago.  How long do I wait?  A day?  Two?”

I pursed my lips again to suppress another smile.  My cheeks were aching from all the smiling.  I said, “Call whenever you want.  There is no rule.  If she had as much fun as you, then she's probably just as nervous, wondering when you will call.”

She shook her head.  “No, she's not nervous.  She's strong and confident, like you.”

I sadly shook my head right back.  “It's all an act.  Everyone is insecure.  The more insecure, the stronger they pretend to be.  It is like a mask they show the world.”

I paused as I took in the look she was giving me.  I said too much.  I grinned sheepishly.  She raised her head imperiously and hit send on her cell.  I heard a single ring then Gina paled and she quickly hit disconnect on the screen.  “Bloody hell.  What would I even say?”

Her cell started ringing.  She looked at the screen and showed it to me in a panic.  “It's her!  What do I do?”

I chuckled. “You answer it, woman.”

She answered, “H-hello?”

I could barely make out a woman saying, “Hi Gina.  I got your call, but it disconnected.  I'm so glad you rang, I had a great time today.”

Gina was up and pacing.  She hopped up and down on her toes as she blushed at the phone and said, “Me too. I hope it isn't too soon for me to call.”

The other lady said, “No not at all.”  As Gina made her way down her hall to her bedroom.  She shot me an apologetic look and held up a finger.  I just nodded and waved her off.  I couldn't wipe the smile off my face even if I wanted to as I jumped up into the air and landed laying down on the sofa with a big, satisfying whump.  I folded my arms behind my head and stared at the ceiling, this was not turning out to be the worst day of my life after all.

The next thing I knew, someone was sitting on my belly as I heard my own aborted snore.  I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and grinned at the beaming Gina on top of me.  She looked down at me with mischief in her eyes.

“I have another date Monday night.”

I grinned, “That soon?”

She nodded.  “It was her suggestion after I asked about next Friday.”

I gave a half shrug.  “See?  She's into you.”

She sighed a happy sigh then poked my belly.  “Let's get you fed and to the hostel, it wouldn't boost Amy's confidence if you crashed here two nights straight.  Tomorrow after church we can figure out how to get your girl back.”

I loved her new confidence and I replied with, “Yes ma'am.”

She hopped up, causing me to oof, then motored over to the kitchen, calling out, “You mind pulling up the news on the telly?”

I grabbed the remote from the little coffee table and turned on the television.

A few minutes later, I had what felt like a family supper while we sat eating macaroni and cheese and watched TV as we chatted and laughed.

Later, as she drove me to the Oxford, she asked, “Pick you up for church tomorrow?  Saint Paul's?”

I sighed in defeat, “Fine, whatever lady.  You're just pushing the burst into flames in a church thing with me.”

She shrugged. “I believe you are more wicked than evil, so you should be safe.  I know you're not particularly religious, but you are superstitious.  What do you think karma would do to you if you just stayed at the hostel instead of accompanying me to church.”

I narrowed my eyes.  “Ooo... you play dirty.”

She smirked. “I learned it from the best.”

I beamed at her, wiggled my eyebrows and hopped out.  She gave a cute wave and drove off.   Even though my mind was on Amy, I was all smiles about Gina being so happy right now.

I paused at the door of the Oxford.  I was already pushing my luck with the duration of my stay.  I had gone beyond the week and was paying nightly now if they had open beds.  I noted the manager was there speaking with the night custodian and rolled the dice again as I approached them.

I spoke to the manager, “I was wondering how advanced slots were looking this coming week.  I had to extend my stay in London a bit.  I can pay for the week in advance.”

She looked at me as she typed something on a tablet computer then narrowed her eyes at me, then looked at the cage with Audrey.  She got a sly look on her weather worn, wrinkled face.  “We're pretty busy this time of year, I did have one backpacker cancel the next two days, so I might be convinced to get creative and get you worked in for the week.”

She quickly added, “But only until Friday, I'd be in danger of losing my YHA membership if I allowed you to stay more than the two-week limit.”

Then the middle-aged woman bit her tongue with a wicked gleam in her eye.  I knew the look.  I tried not to chuckle as I asked, “In exchange for?”

She shrugged innocently, “The other lodgers mentioned how enjoyable and exciting it was when you played here the other night.  I could be convinced to let you stay if you play for the others once a night.”

I pulled out my cash and started counting out the fee for the week as I squinted at her and asked playfully, “Extortion ma'am?”

She just nodded staunchly once and said, “Quite.”

I slid the money to her and she started to take it, but I held onto it and negotiated terms, “Only on the nights that I stay in.”

She nodded agreement. “Of course.”

And I released the money.  That would have been the last of my emergency fund if I hadn't got the windfall from Ronnie Scott's.

As it was, I really needed another gig or I'd have to resort to creative income supplementing.  For some reason, I sort of wanted to just make my own way without others donating for the duration in London.  I really didn't know why.

I idly thought about the note from Mr. Raisin asking me to call him about more performances.  That was probably the ticket I needed.

I went to my assigned bed and pulled out my cell and stared at it.  I called Amarissa again.  Straight to voicemail.  I sighed and laid back after I plugged in my phone charger into the outlet beside the little table that served as a nightstand.  I almost put my earbuds in to let some smooth jazz lull me to sleep, but my eyes landed on Audrey in her cage.

I glanced at the manager then back at my bass and grinned.  A deal is a deal, and I never break my word.  I got up and walked over to the cage and made some noise unlocking it to catch the manager’s attention.

She grinned and I stuck my tongue out at her as I pulled Audrey to my bed and unpacked her.  As I tuned her up, I spoke loudly to get everyone's attention.  “I have succumbed to the pressures of blackmail and not too subtle coercion by the powers that be.”  I heard the matron snort.

I continued, “So here is a bluesy lullaby to lull you all to sleep.”  Then I started plucking out the Sarah Vaughan version of ‘Lullaby of Birdland.’  Uncle Slade always said my tone reminded him of her.  I loved the slow, gentle scat measures in the middle.  It was always fun to ad lib.

Not everyone can scat smoothly, it is just something you have to feel your way through.  If you aren't part of the music and in touch with the soul of the piece, it wouldn't feel organic like it should.  When I closed my eyes as I sang, I saw Amy's face.

That sarcastic smirk she could get, and her eyes focusing on me but shifted left.  I admit I researched on my phone what sort of maladies would cause that.  The two most likely causes were  Amblyopia or Strabismus, but I wasn't about to ask since it didn't matter.  It was just part of what made her... well, her.  I smiled at the thought as I finished the song before the shadow of uncertainty that I could fix things overtook me.

The people gathered around clapped and started to disperse, with disappointed looks, when I started putting Audrey back in her case.  I chuckled and said, “One taste per night.”  This got some chuckles in return.

The manager left as I was caging the bass.  She nodded once at me with a self-satisfied grin on her face.

Minutes later I was drifting off in bed listening to some Ella Fitzgerald, with a certain auburn haired, romance book addicted woman on my mind.  Hmm... romance?