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It had been a long day, even by their usual standards. Despite this Tajiri was happy, happier than he'd been for weeks.
All because of what was, when all is said and done, some wood with some metal strings stretched across it.
This was
doing the piano itself down, because it was a beauty and, as far as Tajiri could tell, completely in tune. Precisely what
a fully working piano was doing in the basement of a hotel, in the space underneath the gym, was a question which could be
answered at a later time.
Because here it was. When Tajiri first glimpsed it earlier in the morning he nearly stood
on his head out of sheer joy. Using the short break that he had had, he snuck out to a nearby instrument shop and bought one
of those cheap compilation music books, the '20 greatest classical tunes' type. Yes, he might have preferred one of his own
books from home, but the piano was sitting there begging to be played and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity just
because
he didn't have any music.
He'd all ready run through most of the tunes in the book, saving one of his favourites till
the last. The Eugene Onegin waltz.
The first phrase lifted through the air, until it was drowned out by a heavy thump
from above. Then another.
"Come on Angle. Is that the best you've got?"
"You've not seen nothing yet." Then there
was another thud.
Great, that was all Tajiri needed. Angle and Lesnar having one of their impromptu wrestling bouts.
They'd been known to carry on for half an hour. Why couldn't they both be as tired as Tajiri was?
"Give up."
"Never."
"Give
up."
"Never." There was a silence filled with heavy panting. "I quit."
The sound of feet moving through the door
at the far end of the gym. "You nearly beat me that time, better luck next time Brock."
"I won't need luck next time."
He
would. Angle always won, but he wasn't a bad winner, and Lesnar was always up for the re-match. But whatever their state of
play, at least they had finished.
Tajiri started the waltz again.
The door opened and the tune changed to 'Man
angry at being interrupted'.
Kidman turned round and walked back out of the door saying that he was sorry to disturb
Tajiri.
Tajiri would apologise later, first he needed to play this piece. So play it he did, like a man possessed.
It was only when he finished and looked up that he saw Jamie leaning against the wall.
"That's a right pretty
tune you're playing."
Tajiri started to say something but was stopped by Jamie's finger moving from his own lips to Tajiri's
in a hushing motion. Oh to have touched the finger that touched those lips.
"Shh, there's no need to say anything. She's
in bed, said she was tired." The she was obviously Nidia. Not that Tajiri didn't like her, but she wouldn't have understood.
What was it that Jamie said she said? `She don't rightly hold with piano playing'. Well, it was her loss since it meant she
didn't get to see Jamie in action.
She really was missing out, Jamie was one of those lucky people who could play by
ear. So while Tajiri had to mess about and find some music, Jamie had it all stored in his head.
"So what are we playing
tonight?"
Tajiri let the book fall open.
"Moonlight Sonata, well ain't that sweet."
It was a complete accident
that the book had fallen open on that page, but it couldn't have landed better. The great thing about this tune was that if
you both played the same notes, and the right hand went up and the other person's left hand came down, then they'd touch and
for Tajiri at least, there was a shock of feeling, like an emotional bolt of static.
Plus the way Jamie played, trampling
up and down the keyboard, the contact was more frequent. Tajiri loved playing the piano anyway, but Jamie was a definite bonus.
Tajiri couldn't think of a better way to spend the next couple of hours.
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