Plan B

Chapter Nineteen

Even Fran knew enough to recognise that Rico was a scarily talented musician.  He managed to convince her to listen to his Tchaikovsky concerto on the violin before he agreed to play the guitar for her, and they spent nearly an hour singing songs together while he strummed along with the accompaniments.  Or rather, Fran began by singing, but then realised that her voice was too high within seconds and gave up, content to try humming along and swaying to the music.  Rico appeared so absorbed by the singing and guitar-playing that he seemed to forget she was there.  Fran was seriously impressed – he knew many of her favourite songs, including Stairway to Heaven, and he finally finished up with Sultans of Swing.

At long last, he opened his eyes again and focussed on the world around him, smiling.  His shoulders slumped and he looked drained yet relaxed.

“Wow,” Fran offered, and his smile spread into a grin.

“I’m no Hendrix,” he said bashfully, “but I’ve been playing for years, so it’d be disappointing if I didn’t have some skill.”

He returned the borrowed guitar to its stand and checked his watch.

“We ought to go back.  We’ll be late for check in, and I’m supposed to be on duty.”

“Can’t you just mark us absent so we can continue?”

Rico laughed.  “I need the check in board to be able to do that, idiot.  We’d have to go back anyway.”

Fran grinned cheekily at him.  “You would.  I could stay here and you could sign us both out and come back.”

Getting to his feet, Rico cuffed her lightly round the head.  “Hey, I have work to do.  This was just a little stress relief for me.  And you’ll have work to do too, so don’t go making excuses.”

Fran pouted.  “But I like making excuses.”

“Yes, Fran, but I’m not going to be responsible for you failing to do your work.”  He folded his arms.

Fran narrowed her eyes and rose slightly from her seat.  “Are you making fun of my feminine qualities again?”

Rico’s expression changed when he realised that she was crouching in an attack position.

“No,” he said carefully.  “I’m just….”  He hesitated, trying to come up with an answer, then hastily held his hands up in defeat and retreated.  “Okay, yes I was.  Just don’t kill— ack!”

He swore as Fran tackled him and he cracked his head against the piano stool leg.

“Ow!  Frankie!”

“Whoops.”  Grinning impishly, Fran let go of his legs and knelt up.

Gasping with pain, Rico pushed himself into a sitting position and gingerly felt the side of his head.  “That really hurts.  Seriously, I can understand why Piers is gutted you’re not allowed to play sports.  That’s the hardest I’ve been tackled in years.”

Fran’s grin faded.  “Are you okay?”

“No, but I will be.”  He prodded the side of his head again.  “Get me some water?  You owe me for that.”

Fran ducked sheepishly out of the room and spent several minutes trying to find the water dispenser she’d seen on the way in.  When she returned, it was to find Rico at the piano playing a recent hit song called Wonder Star by a mixed group that had come under the public eye about three months previously.  He stopped as soon as he realised she was in the room and took the water off her.

“Thanks.”  He dipped his fingers into the glass and patted some of the water around the bump on his head before downing the rest.

“I thought we needed to go back for check in,” Fran said, confused.  Rico smirked.