He
ran his hand over the piano, his fingertips caressing the rich, brown mahogany,
the shiny brass hard wear, the soft ivory keys. It had been so long, he thought.
So long since he’s played, so long since music had left his life.
Justin sat down on the piano bench, fingers hovering slightly above the keys,
sneaking a glance around the room. The speakeasy was empty at this time of day.
The chairs had been placed on tables and the lights were much brighter than they
would be at night. He was alone in the room, and the temptation of the piano was
too much to resist.
He began to play.
He closed his eyes at the sounds he produced, tears welling behind his closed
lids. Music had been his salvation during the last year as he watched his first
his father, then his mother, slowly die. His piano had helped him and them
through it all. But after their deaths, he’d been alone with the farm and the
debts, and couldn’t do anything to prevent what had happened. Within a month,
he’d lost his family, his home, his piano.
But music was something he’d never forgotten, he realized as he played softly,
wondering how he’d lived this long without it. His fingers skimmed with grace
over the keys, making the notes dance from the piano, filling the room with the
sound of jazz and blues that was uniquely Justin’s.
Suddenly he felt a tingling down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck
stood up. He stopped playing and turned, his gaze trapped by a pair of ice blue
eyes. The man stood leaning against the door, a cup of coffee in his hand, his
eyes piercing Justin’s so that the younger man was unable to turn away.
The man was breathtakingly handsome. Lean and strong, with sharp features and a
soft, pink mouth. Justin felt a blush rise in his cheeks as the man continued to
stare at him, and he watched as a slow smile crept over the man’s lips, a
sparkle of humor entering those icy eyes.
“Justin!” His uncle’s voice came at him like a hammer, as did the hand
that cuffed Justin on the head. “What the hell are you doing, boy? Get the
hell off that piano and back to work!”
Justin flinched as his uncle’s hand rose again, standing up quickly and
gathering the dirty linen he’d dropped earlier when he’d seen the piano. He
looked at the door way. The man was still there, but he wasn’t watching
Justin. The icy blue eyes had actually gotten colder as they gazed at his uncle.
Justin shivered as he left the room, ignoring his uncle’s tirade.
He watched the boy leave, making a mental note of the man and his actions. He
turned from the doorway, slowly sipping his coffee, thinking of the boy at the
piano, and the wonderful music he’d made.
“Lance.” Another man joined him. “Let me know when we have another linen
delivery.”