“It’s not a topic they have really explored yet as far as I know,” revealed Nicole. “It’s being built into the curriculum for next semester. I think I’d struggle to teach it too. Not one of my strengths.”
“And what are your strengths?” asked Jake, curious to learn a little more about her.
“Rhythm.”
“Drums?”
“Yes. Percussion in general but primarily drumming. Taiko drums. Tribal drumming. Native American rhythms.”
“So, not high school marching band or rock band?” teased Jake.
“I was in my high school marching band,” defended Nicole a little sharply. “But I’ve never played in a rock band. I’ve heard a few pieces, solos, that I am in total awe of. Talent way beyond me.”
“When I take the kids out to JJL, I’m hoping Paul will drop in and do a short drum clinic. You should stop by.”
“Who’s Paul?”
“Paul Edwards. Silver Lake’s drummer.”
“I might just take you up on that.”
With the ice finally broken, they chatted animatedly about music and their own preferences. Both of them were a little disappointed when the bell rang to end lunch.
“I’ll meet you back here after class,” said Jake, getting to his feet. “I’ll follow you home and take a look at that sink for you.”
“Thanks, Jake.” Nicole smiled as he left the base.
Despite his initial fears, Jake was pleasantly surprised at the progress his five pairings made with their songwriting assignments. In an effort to give them space, he spread them out over three rooms and spent the afternoon going round offering words of wisdom, even suggesting to one group that they visit the school library to borrow some books on poetry and a dictionary.
As he walked across the hallway to the classroom, he heard a snatch of a song echoing out from one of the rooms. It was a powerful, angry piece of music. Glancing in through the glass panel on the door, Jake was surprised to see that it was Riley who was singing. The tiny pixie of a girl had a huge voice! He listened for another minute or so then entered the room. The instant the door opened, the singing stopped,
“I liked that,” he complimented, flashing his student a smile. “No need to stop on my account, Riley.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled awkwardly.
“Let me hear that again,” said Jake, sitting on the table between Riley and Dorrian.
Dorrian checked the tuning on his guitar then began to play a pulsing power chord intro. There was something very raw and feral about the sound. Keeping her eyes shut, the small green-haired girl sang as if her life depended on it. Her voice was deeper than Jake had imagined and there was a husky maturity to it that was way beyond her years. Vocally, the teenager oozed anger and frustration.
“Impressive start,” commented Jake when the pair stopped. “What came first? Lyrics or music?”
“Lyrics,” replied Dorrian. “I wrote them.”
“And the music?” quizzed Jake.
“Mainly Riley but I changed some of it.”
“Keep going. I’ll be interested to see where this one goes.”
Ten minutes before the end of the day, Jake called them all together.
“Great work today, guys. I’m impressed with how far some of you have got with your songs,” he praised. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll divide into two sections. Vocalists in one room. Guitarists and other musicians in the other. I want to work with the vocalists for an hour or so but I’ll set the rest of you the challenge of learning the music for the song I’ll be teaching the others.”
“What song?” asked Cole curiously.
“Haven’t decided yet,” replied Jake with a wink. “I’ll have a think about it overnight.”
“One of yours?” asked Mia hopefully.
“Might be,” teased Jake, genuinely undecided about which song he would have them learn. “You’ll find out tomorrow.”
After class, Jake found Nicole waiting for him at the teaching base. Together, they walked out to the parking lot chatting about the progress the students had made. Stopping beside a black BMW convertible, Nicole said, “This is me. You ok to follow me into town? There’s parking at the side of my building. Use my neighbour’s spot. He’s out of town till Friday night.”
“No worries. I’ll follow. You lead,” he replied as he fished his truck key out of his pocket. “Do you have any tools? Not sure what I’ll need.”
“I’ve a few.”
“Ok,” nodded Jake. “Lead on.”
The first-floor apartment was cool and shaded when Nicole showed Jake in. She apologised for the mess, explaining that she’d left her marital home in a hurry and had grabbed everything she could cram into a U-Haul trailer.
“Looks like you grabbed everything,” commented Jake, gazing at the pile of boxes.
“Not quite. I left the furniture and the dogs,” replied Nicole. She paused before adding quietly, “I miss my dogs.”
“Ok, which sink?” asked Jake, changing the subject. “Kitchen or bathroom?”
“Kitchen.”
In comparison to the clutter of the lounge, the small kitchen was spotless. Leaving him her toolbox, Nicole apologised that she had a call to make.
“I’ll yell if I need help,” said Jake, opening the toolbox.
It didn’t take him long to dismantle the sink and clear the blockage. His stomach was heaving as he removed rotting food remains and fat from the section of pipe. Jake had just reassembled the pipework when Nicole reappeared. She’d changed out of her school clothes and was now barefoot, wearing shorts and a strappy vest tee.
“Job done,” declared Jake. “You should probably run some boiling water through it to clean the rest of the pipe. Maybe some bleach or Drano, if you have it.”
“Thanks. I will,” promised Nicole. “Can I get you a beer or a coffee?”
“Beer would be good,” replied Jake, washing his hands. “But I can’t stay long. I promised Melody I’d give her a music lesson before dinner.”
