Page 4 of Pervade London
“My violin!” I screeched. “Did anyone see anything?”
My flesh chilled as I glanced around to see if anyone had it. There were too many people, hundreds of commuters hurrying by, and I was being spectacularly ignored by everyone.
I bolted toward the exit and took two steps at a time to the street level, spilling out into the cold air and into a sea of people. Scanning the hands of pedestrians, I fought waves of lightheadedness, ready to bolt after someone as soon as I saw it. There was no way I could lose my precious instrument.
This isn’t happening.
“Can I help?”
Xander joined me on the pavement.
“Do you see anyone carrying a violin?” I zeroed in on the pedestrians again, glancing left and right. Time was slipping away. “Maybe they caught the Tube?” I tried to stay focused, fearing my legs were about to crumble.
“It’s my fault,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“No, this had nothing to do with you.” It was me who’d turned my attention away from where I’d set up to play. Regret made my head spin.
“Did you see the person who took it?” he asked.
“Oh, God, it’s gone.”
“Have faith.” Xander reached into his pocket. “The fuckers didn’t take my phone.” He stared at it, swiping the screen.
“Are you calling the police?” I turned away to continue studying the pedestrians. There were too many people in the crowd. Too many cars lined up in rush-hour traffic, the sound of their deafening horns heightening the tension.
Heat rose from the Tube station, making the air feel oppressive.
A streak of sweat snaked down my spine. “What am I going to do?”
Xander’s focus was still on his phone. I felt I was wasting time I didn’t have.
“The thief got into a black cab.” He raised his eyes from the screen and peered left. “Traffic’s slow. I can catch him.”
“You saw him? Which way did he go?”
“It’s too dangerous for you.”
I glared at him. “Tell me.”
“I’ll get it back for you if you promise to buy me a meal.”
I groaned in frustration.
“I was joking. But I am pretty hungry.”
I regained my composure. “Bring me my violin and I’ll treat you to a three-course dinner.”
“Five-course.”
“Seriously?”Go on,waste another five minutes.
He gave me a heart-stopping grin and took off at a sprint, dodging pedestrians while scaring a few, before leaping into traffic. A car horn signaled he’d barely missed being hit.
Guilt kicked in. I’d just catapulted a homeless man into some kind of superhero mission. No good deed goes unpunished—and I’d just received the mother of all reminders.
Trudging down the steps of the Underground, I hurried over to where I’d been playing Niccolò Paganini’s “Caprice No. 24,” a piece no one seemed to recognize, which was one of the hardest to master. I’d literally given my violin away while attending to some homeless guy. Who was to say he wouldn’t just take the violin for himself once he got it back…ifhe got it back.
After swiping away a tear, I tried not to let the floodgates open yet so as not to embarrass myself and bring any more unwanted attention my way from strangers. There was a reason you weren’t supposed to talk to them.
