Every Rose Has Its Thorns

Chapter 4

        Rain poured hard on San Francisco's streets. It was early, just after 5am when Jo emerged from her building, umbrella in hand as she made her way down the street. Tucked under one arm was a folder filled to bursting with sheet music and scribblings. At the end of her street she turned right, the path she was walking so familiar to her that she barely had to think about where she was going. 

        Jo was headed to the Symphony Hall to get in a few hours of practice before rehearsal at 8am. She loved the concert hall and used the early morning hours to forgo the practice rooms and play the piano on the main stage, getting carried away in the room's vast acoustics, playing for an audience of one. She felt most creative in the early morning and it was times like these that she did most of her composing. Though she had only been with the symphony for a couple of years she had developed a good working relationship with the symphony's director and he had recently agreed to hear her compositions. If everything went well, her work could debut to a full audience in the symphony's spring program. 

        She had worked tirelessly on the composition for months and to even a trained ear, it was ready. But Jo was a perfectionist and she felt that if her music was to be worthy of the San Francisco Symphony, time spent not working was time wasted. Her meeting with the director was scheduled for Friday which meant she had five more mornings to get everything right. 

        Jo stopped in a café on the corner for coffee. Jen, the matronly owner, beamed as she entered.        

        "Mornin' Jo! I've got your usual all ready for ya,' Jen said, pushing a coffee across the counter. 

        "Have I ever told you I loved you, Jen?" Jo asked. She took a long sip of the drink, closing her eyes to savor the taste. 

        "Every day since I met you," Jen winked. "Five more days right?" 

        Jo nodded. "I'm close, I can feel it. There's just one part in the second movement that still needs some work. It's been stumping me for weeks."

        "If it's anything like the music you've played for me before, I can guarantee you're over thinking it hun." Jen had given Jo her first job when her mother passed, working in this very café. Jo had noticed a

"help wanted" sign in the window on one of the days she spent loitering outside the symphony hall, just waiting to get a glimpse of the professional musicians filing in and out of the building for rehearsals. 

        "This is my chance, Jen. This is more than I ever dreamed of, all those years ago standing on the corner, just waiting for the day I could play in a hall like that. And to think they might be playing my music. I just can't slip up."

        "Jo, honey, you're the hardest worker I know. Just trust the process. You've done the work to get here and that work is about to pay off. Big."

        Jo smiled as she started to pull out her wallet. 

        "Don't even think about it!" Jen said, crossing her arms. "The least I can do is fuel your genius."

        "Jen, let me pay," Jo pouted.

        Jen laughed and leaned across the counter to grab Jo's hand. "All I ask is that I get tickets to opening night when that symphony," she gestured across the street, "plays your music for the first time."

        Jo smiled. "Deal," she said, giving Jen's hand a reassuring squeeze. 

__________

        Jo got home around 8pm, bone tired. After her own private practice and rehearsals she had played both an afternoon and evening concert. The winter season was coming to an end and she couldn't wait. 

         When she opened the door to her apartment, she was met with a breeze sweeping in through an open window across from her bed. Jo rushed in to slam it shut but the damage had already been done. A full day of wind and rain must have poured into her apartment. A huge puddle pooled beneath the window and her sheet music, usually carefully organized on top of her desk, had blown about the room, in various states of destruction. 

        Jo cursed under her breath, playing back the morning in her mind. Had she been so tired this morning that she had left the window open? Jo groaned as she gathered her sheet music, some destroyed beyond repair and sent a silent prayer of thanks that she had brought her composition with her that day, sparing it from the wind and rain. 

        Her papers taken care of, Jo dashed into the bathroom for a towel to mop up the rain water. After grabbing the towel she turned to leave when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. The letter she had thrown onto the floor the night before was now spread open on her bathroom counter, held there by a small red box. Jo froze when she saw it. Someone had been in her apartment. Someone had come in through the window and left this for her to find.

        Her hand trembled as she let the towel drop to her feet. She reached for the box, turning over the small tag attached to the top with a long red velvet ribbon. The same red script from the letter swirled across the paper - 

"My dearest Jo, you shouldn't treat my love for you so carelessly. Thinking of you always. It won't be long now. P.S. Remember to lock your windows, mio amore."

        Jo dropped the box, her stomach doing flips as she whirled around in her small apartment. She was horrified. The letter wasn't just some stupid prank. This was real. A real man, a man she didn't know, had broken into her apartment. The home she felt so safe in had betrayed her and now the place she called home seemed small and sinister. 

        Terrified to see what was inside the box, Jo couldn't stop her hands from trembling as she removed the lid. Inside, in a bed of silk, was a charm bracelet, a single charm glistening up at her. The charm was shaped like a treble clef, inlaid with tiny diamonds that shone up at her from every angle. Feeling sick, Jo put the lid back on the box and ran to her window, tossing the box out before slamming it shut and locking it tight. She drew the curtains tightly across the window pane until no light from the street leaked into her apartment. 

        Jo sat on her bed in the dark, listening to her heart beating. Her phone went off, making her jump. She opened the text. 

From: Unknown

You shouldn't have done that mio amore. 

        Jo gasped, backing up further onto her bed. Was she being watched? Her phone pinged again. 

From: Unknown

Get some sleep, love. You have a big week ahead.

        What did he mean? Did he know about her music? Her work? The musical charm seemed to suggest that he did but Jo couldn't wrap her head around the fact that someone was watching her. She had a stalker. 

        She wished suddenly that her brother was home, not off in South America, unreachable. He was the only one she felt safe talking to about this and yet she had no way of contacting him. 

       Taking a deep breath, Jo dialed Steve's number. It went straight to voicemail as she expected. She only wanted to leave a message. "Hi Steve...it's Jo. I hope your trip is going well. I miss you. I...I need you to call me when you get this, ok? I just...I need to talk to you. Ok...love you. Bye."

        Jo dropped the phone on the bed beside her and curled up beneath the covers, her eyes never leaving the window, her ears straining at every noise outside her door. She sighed, knowing she wasn't going to be getting much sleep at all that night.