Page 47 of Under His Sheets
“You could almost think he was a good man,” Lara said when I showed it to her Tuesday afternoon. “As for the songs… Jose Feliciano? I suppose that’s a choice. ‘Malagueña’ I get, it’s a beautiful song. Julio Iglesias, though? He’s not Catalan even.” She shook her head. “What do you feel comfortable with?”
“None of it, honestly, but I want to play with Pere, especially if it makes him feel better. I asked him, and he seemed relieved. I’ve already started working on the tablature. I’ll have to use the guitar he left, as I don’t have one. It shouldn’t be a problem to learn the other songs. If I refuse, I’ll look like the asshole, and that sucks.”
“What can I do to help?”
“I don’t know, send me positive vibes? My stomach is already a wreck. I’ll probably be a mess by Friday. Thankfully Josette and Sasha took me to a great tailor yesterday. He took my measurements and promised to do a rush job on a suit for me. I’m getting fitted Thursday and he said it would be ready by Saturday.”
That trip had been a lot better than I’d thought. I’d lost a little weight and a size thirty-eight waist fit me comfortably. Josette talked me into a royal blue vest to match the suit, which did wonders for my shape, and we found a perfect shirt. I went with a bright gold tie and planned to wear a red pocket square withgold flowers on it. I rounded out the outfit with new brown derby shoes and matching belt. I hadn’t dressed up like this since the first Grammy awards we’d attended two years prior.
Alonso had approved and said he would be dressed to kill. He might have meant literally.
Lara squeezed my hand, bringing me back to the conversation. “You’ll be great. And Alonso is going with you?” She raised her eyebrows and smiled.
My face got hot. “Yes, he’s…Lara, I don’t like keeping things from you, but we’re sort of…”
She burst out laughing and grabbed for my hand. “Oh my God, Randall, that’s wonderful!”
“But I know it’s against the rules?—”
“It would be if he were actually my employee, which he’s not. And I know it’s a rule, but I also know there are others hooking up on this campus, with each other and with people in the community. Don’t even worry about it.” She leaned forward over the desk and stage whispered, “He’s so hot, I don’t know how you could possibly keep your hands to yourself.”
I put a hand over my mouth and looked to the ceiling.
“Okay, okay. Let’s pretend I know nothing. Let me know if I can help with the thing Saturday, and Randall…be careful. I don’t like this at all. Alonso doesn’t either, but he has promised me that you’ll be safe.”
“I trust him, Lara. I’ll be careful. I don’t know what’s going on with these people, but I hate for Pere to be in the middle of it all. That little boy is just the sweetest.”
“He really is.”
She filled me in on a few other people she assumed would be there, important people in the Castelldefels community at large, including several fútbol players and politicians. I thanked her and then headed back to my classroom to get to work learning these songs. No problem. Four songs by Friday. Easy-peasy.
“Well, Mr. Rock Star, what song did you choose?”
He’d shown up on time to pick up Pere Friday afternoon, and even flashed me his ID before walking into the room.
I smiled more confidently than I felt. “Any of them are fine with me.”
He put an arm around Pere and raised his eyebrows. “Well, then. How about we let the guests decide tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.” I would definitely be practicing until my fingers fell off tonight, probably wouldn’t sleep, and would likely be spending a lot of time in the bathroom, but he didn’t need to know that.
“And your…friend? Date? Will be there tomorrow by seven o’clock, sí?”
“Si és clar. Looking forward to it.”Looking forward to this being all over, anyway.
“Bé. Pere, get your things, let’s let senyor Sutter get home to rest.”
“Pere, remember what I told you,” I said, giving him a wink.
We’d spent lunch the past three days and a large portion of his lesson today talking about how to keep your cool when performing in front of others, how to recover if you make a mistake, and how the performance isn’t just about your technical playing but how you put your heart into your music.
“No matter what happens tomorrow,” I’d said to him, but it was as much for me as for him, “you know you did your best, you tried your hardest, and your father knows this. Most importantly, I want you to be proud of yourself, verdad?”
“Sí, senyor Sutter. I want him to be proud of me too.”
I took a deep breath. I had to keep my feelings about the man, and fathers in general, to myself.
“Parents can’t help but be proud of their kids when they see them shine, and you shine brighter than any star in the sky. ¿Me entiendes?”
