The Billionaire Band Director

Chapter 19

    Landry

    “What did you have in mind?” read the text.  Landry had a lot of things in mind, but he knew most of them would not be an appropriate response.  Landry had in mind Martha James’ laugh.  It was clear and high like a bell, even though her speaking voice had the husky timber of an alto clarinet.  He had in mind Martha’s curvy hips that swayed when she walked.  He had in mind her soft lips and the way she trembled when he moved towards them.  He had been close… so close…

    And she ran away.

    Landry wasn’t sure what, exactly, prompted Martha’s sudden dash from his car, but having your date literally fall over herself trying to escape you is never a good way to end an evening.  He had tried to exercise restraint all night.  In fact, he had been exercising restraint from the moment she walked into his rehearsal hall.  He had wanted to run up and lift her into the air, spin her around, and kiss her, like in a cheesy romance movie.  He had wanted to kiss her slim white neck and her exposed collarbone.  He had wanted to unbutton the front of her dress and continue his kisses down her body.

    He did not do these things.  Instead, he exercised his restraint.  There was a child right next to her. Josefina, he had reminded himself.  Josefina, the girl you were so excited to meet.  He redirected his attention to Josefina, who had just told him she preferred to be called Josie.  Maybe if he focused on Josie he could keep his desire for her beautiful guardian in check.

    Focusing on Josie was not hard to do.  She talked about why she loved music with zeal and sincerity.  Landry liked that.  He liked that a lot.  It was the kind of response he always wanted from his students but never got.  Josie was young and had not yet been exposed to many types of music, but it was clear that she drank in the tastes of music that she got like she needed it to breath.  

    “And what kind of music is your favorite so far?” Landry asked, careful to add “so far” to make clear to Josie that her musical preferences were still developing.

    “Well, my favorite artist of all time is Clarissa.”

    They always like Clarissa, he mused to himself.  Everyone falls for those over-produced, over-sexualized music videos- do they even listen to the music itself?  Landry knew, better than anyone, that there were positive musical attributes to Clarissa’s music.  He also knew that those attributes were not what made Clarissa popular to most people.  He decided to give Josie a chance to defend her choice.

    “And what is it that you like about Clarissa?” he asked.

    “Well,” started Josie, “she writes all her own music, and I really respect that.  And the music she writes- it’s different.  It’s not like everyone else.  I mean, yeah, the stuff she sings about is the same kind of stuff, like love and dancing and whatever.  But the music itself is more… I dunno, complex?  Like it has more layers maybe?  Like, do you know her song Butterflies in the Sun?”

    Landry nodded.

    “So, in that song,” continued Josie, “there’s this melody in the background that is so… I dunno… so sad and moving, like the music’s heart is breaking.”

    It’s Bach’s Cello Suite No. 2 in D Minor, Landry thought to himself.  And that’s the perfect way to describe it.

    “I like that,” said Josie.  “I like that there’s more going on in her music than just silly words and wailing guitars.”

    Landry was shocked.  He had heard many people talk about Clarissa and why they loved her.  He had read music critic’s review.  He had never seen anyone understand the music the way this young girl, without the knowledge or vocabulary to even fully explain what she felt, had understood.  Landry was impressed.

    Josie continued to talk about Clarissa and music.  Landry was interested, very interested, but he could not help but sneak occasional glances at Martha James.  Martha James was not a name he would have guessed for the beautiful woman he had been dreaming about for weeks.  Not MarTHA, he reminded himself, MarTA.  She had not corrected him when he said her name in his Cajun accent, and he noticed that Josie had pronounced it with a hard “t” as well. He liked that.  Martha with a “th” sound was, in his mind, still the stuffy old aristocrat he had envisioned when he read the name.  This Martha, the goddess standing a few feet from him, was his Martha.

    Landry redirected his attention back to Josie once more.  She had noticed things in Clarissa’s music that most missed. She understood the soul of the music and what drove the music forwards.  She was passionate and wanted to try everything.  She smiled a lot when she talked about music.  He knew, without any assistance from Fabien, that she was a percussionist.  He told her to explore the instruments, confident that she would pick something from the percussion section.  Probably marimba, he predicted.  She had noticed the mellow undertones to Butterflies in the Sun, and the marimba had that same type of sound.

    With Josie off exploring the instruments, Landry sat down to talk to Martha James.  He sat one chair over from her.  With all the chairs in the room, it would have been too forward to sit right next to her, as much as he wanted to be close to her.  Sitting a chair over allowed him to turn his body and fully face her, which he did.  He looked at her face and got the impression, for the first time, that she was… annoyed?  Maybe even angry?

    “That’s a lot of pressure, isn’t it?  You’ve already decided on an instrument, and now, without guidance, she has to find the same one?”

    He understood her frustration.  She had no way of knowing that he knew, he always knew, what a student should play.  And, for a student like Josie with a passion for music, it was even clearer.  He tried to put himself in her shoes.  If a waiter said that he knew what a customer would want to eat before they ordered, or a car salesman said he knew what car a customer would want to buy just from looking at them, he would think it was bullshit.  He needed her to know that this wasn’t bullshit.  

    “She’s an impressive kid,” Landry had explained.  “There’s something special about her.  But, of course, you already know that.  You are her guardian.”

    He had hoped that the way he said it would prompt her to give some sort of explanation.  He could not help but wondered.  Martha was too young to be Josie’s mother, and they did not look like sisters.  He estimated Martha’s age to be early to mid twenties, which seemed too young to him for someone to adopt a child with whom they had no preexisting relationship.  Plus, if Martha had adopted Josie, wouldn’t Josie have taken Martha’s last name, and wouldn’t the appointment notice have said “parent” instead of “guardian”?

    If Martha noticed his hint of a question she ignored it. “Yes,” she replied curtly.  “She is special.  I trust her to make the right decision, all the time.”

    It was clear to Landry that this conversation was not going the way he wanted.  He would not allow that.  He was a man of hope, and he was practical.  If you hope for something and do nothing to push your hopes forward, you don’t deserve for your hope to be rewarded, he believed.  Landry was a man of hope and a man of action.  Betting on what Josie would pick was the kind of move Fabien might have suggested.  It was more of a player move than Landry would have normally tried.  Landry was certainly not a player.  But, he was desperate to see Martha again. 

    Martha accepted the bet.  He knew she would.  She was clearly worried about Josie being upset if he told her she picked the wrong instrument.  He also wanted to believe that Martha felt the some of the same chemistry between them that had been driving him crazy.  Even just a little, he thought, enough that the idea of a date with me is not completely repugnant.  He won the bet.  He knew that would happen too.

    Martha’s phone number was printed on the appointment notice.  He confirmed with her, before she left the rehearsal room, that it was a good number to reach her.  He sent her a text message after she left asking for her address and she responded immediately.  Dahlia House, he read.  THAT’S interesting.  Why did Martha James live on the campus of George I Academy?  He had never seen her there before, so if she worked for the school she was new.  New teachers and faculty members were usually announced months in advance in a newsletter to staff.  Other employees, like janitors or cooks, would not be likely to have on-site housing.  He knew that available houses were often loaned out to families visiting on a short-term basis, especially if those families had connections to the school.  Her last name is James, he reminded himself.  If it’s the same James family, she has all the connections she needs.  That made sense to him.  Martha could be staying in the house for a few weeks while Josie started school.  He did not like that idea, because it meant that Martha would be leaving.  Maybe Martha was a wealthy James family heiress who would stay at the house all year to be near Josie.  He had seen other parents do that.  The idea did not completely fit with his vision of Martha, but at least it meant she would be around for longer.

    He decided to drive the Lamborghini to pick up Martha.  He normally never drove the car on school grounds.  He was not normally one for showing off.  However, he felt a boyish urge to show off for Martha, at least a little.  He also decided to wear a designer suit.  Why not, he thought.  It goes with the car.  Martha made no comment about the car or the suit.  He liked that.  Displays of wealth were not something he usually liked, and he did not want to be with someone who only wanted to be with him because of them.  

    Martha James was bewitching.  He had a hard time keeping himself from drooling when he saw her in her black dress.  He was even more bewitched listening to her talk about herself and Josie.  Martha was incredible, but she did not seem to realize it.  She told him, very matter-of-factly, about putting herself through college with scholarships and student teaching jobs and taking responsibility for Josie at the same time.  She talked about literature, about magical realism.  She had the same passion for literature that Josie had for music.  Landry liked that.  A lot. Her high, clear laugh rang out easily and often.  Landry was utterly and irrevocably under her spell. 

    Martha had asked him about himself.  He did not want to talk about himself- he wanted to hear more about this hardworking, passionate beauty in front of him who was raising her cousin while following her dream.  He especially did not want to give her details about what he did outside his work at the school. Let her like me for me first, he told himself.  He was comfortable talking about his childhood, and that seemed to please her.  It was not something he found all that impressive.  Most of the women of New Kensington Falls would have been quite put off by his humble upbringing.  Not Martha James.  She loved hearing about life by the bayou.  She was so engrossed, and he was so engrossed in her honest engrossment, that they talked for hours and didn’t even notice that the restaurant had closed.

    Landry had wanted to kiss Martha.  He really, really wanted to.  But he had told himself before the date started that he could not.  There will be other dates, he told himself.  Don’t blow this all up too soon.  He had won the date in a bet and he had promised her just dinner and talking.  He wanted Martha to know she could trust him. 

    When Martha toppled out of his car and ran back into her house, Landry was confused.  She had seemed interested in him, hadn’t she?  They had talked for hours and had a genuine connection.  He had felt her trembling when he whispered in her ear.  He saw her lips quivering.  Why did she run away?

    He sent her a text message when he got home to ask if she was ok.  She responded the next morning- “I’m fine.  Thank you for a lovely evening.”

    What does THAT mean?  Landry knew better than to read too much tone into a text message.  The text seemed cold, but when he remembered Martha’s warm smile and clear laugh the text could be read like a hot cup of cider on an autumn day.  That interpretation of the text inspired him.  He went to his piano, and spent several hours there playing his feelings about Martha James.  Not bad, he told himself.  Not bad at all.  He needed to see Martha again.

    “Are you free on Saturday?” he wrote.  He had, after all, promised her that he would ask her out again.  And waiting until Saturday would give him plenty of time to make arrangements. 

    A few more texts and the date was arranged.  Martha was concerned about getting trouble with the school, but he wasn’t.  He’d quit if he had to.  He didn’t want to tell Martha that, but he knew it was worth it.  He hadn’t told Martha what they were doing.  He needed time to be sure it was what he wanted to do.  He only told her it was a surprise.  That left him room, if he changed his mind.  He could just take her to dinner again if he chickened out.  Not too surprising, but safe.

    Landry threw himself onto his couch and smiled.  He began counting down the minutes until Saturday night.