Sofia got up early and went for a walk, but she returned before I needed to leave for school at eight.
"Are you coming back at your usual time?" she asked.
The grimace spread across my face before I could stop it. "Maybe even later if Jansen insists on making up for the time we lost yesterday."
"He sounds like a real piece of work. How long is the bit of music you're playing? Do you actually need to practice that much?"
"Only twelve minutes, and I know it by heart already."
I'd memorised the piece by the third run-through, a trick I'd been able to pull since I was a little girl. Nomura-sensei said it was a gift. My first piano teacher had refused to believe it was possible, at least until she tested me by making me play a Bach piece I'd never laid eyes on before. Half an hour later, I knew it well enough to play it from memory in any key, and the teacher informed my parents I needed someone more experienced than her to further my musical education. Not that they could afford it.
"Just tell him you need to go home, then."
"That's what Lincoln said as well, but when I tried that last week, Jansen wouldn't listen."
"Lincoln? Who's Lincoln?"
Oops. I hadn't wanted to mention him to anybody else, but his name had slipped out without me thinking. "Just the janitor at school. Jansen complained because Lincoln wanted to clean the practice room while we were still using it, but if he hadn't come in, we'd probably have still been there at breakfast."
"Better keep your fingers crossed he does the same tonight."
Yes, I should, shouldn't I?
On our third attempt at Schubert that evening, Jude's lack of practice still showed. Not in a dramatic way, but he spent too much time concentrating on the mechanics of the piece rather than putting in the expression it needed.
"Again," Jansen ordered.
Jude looked at his watch. "No can do. I've got a date in half an hour."
For one hopeful moment, I thought Jansen would self-combust. His face turned a peculiar shade of pink, and the growl that left his mouth hardly sounded human.
"We have to play in front of an audience in three days, and your date is more important?"
Jude shrugged. "She's hot."
Jansen grabbed Jude's wrist, but Jude had already mentioned to me that he went to the gym every morning, and despite his penchant for eating junk food, it showed. He shook off Jansen like he was swatting away a pesky mosquito.
"Chill out, man. It's only the first semester, and I came to school to have fun, not work like a dog every bloody day."
Jansen seethed, and I saw the fury in his eyes, but there was nothing he could do as Jude packed his cello away and sauntered out of the room.
Left alone with Jansen, the anger rolling off him flecked my skin like sparks spitting from a fire. I shrank back as he advanced, his mouth set in a hard line.
"Sit." He pointed at the piano stool.
The easy option would have been to do as he said, but when I thought back to Lincoln's words of the night before, I knew if I let Jansen keep me there again, I'd always be under his thumb. "I-I-I need to go as well."
"Later. We have to play first. The last section still needs work."
"But I have things to do at home."
"No, you don't understand. I refuse to fail this class, and Jude's already doing his best to sabotage the recital." Jansen advanced, and I stepped backwards until the cool wood of the piano blocked my way. "Now, take your seat."
"Let her leave." A soft voice came from my right, and I looked up to see Lincoln in the doorway.
Jansen's lip curled up in a sneer as he turned his fury on Lincoln. "Get lost. This is none of your business."
Lincoln's stance stayed easy, relaxed, but a slight hardening of his body told me he wasn't impressed by Jansen's words. He walked towards us, hands loose at his sides, eyes fixed on Jansen.
"You made it my business when you tried to keep a woman here against her will."
Jansen's harsh laugh bit through the air. "Don't be ridiculous. Akari's happy to stay." He turned to me. "Right?"
What should I say? I was far from happy, but if I said so, Jansen would get even more upset, and I still had to work with him. Unfortunately, he assumed my silence meant agreement and took a step towards Lincoln.
"See? Just remember what you're here to do—you clean, you don't talk to the students. Show some respect."
How dare he? "Jansen, you're the one who needs to show some respect. Lincoln's a human being. How dare you speak to him like that?"
"He's a janitor. You and I, we're different. We have the ability to make something of our lives." Jansen turned his back on Lincoln. "Now, ignore this idiot and let's carry on."
"Didn't you hear me? I said I need to go home."
"No, you need to practise. This school is the most competitive in the world, and if you want to succeed here, you have to put the hours in." He gave me a shove towards the stool, catching me by surprise, and I tripped over my foot before grabbing the edge of the piano to save myself.
I glanced in Lincoln's direction, but he hadn't moved. How did he stay so calm? Only his balled-up fists hinted that he might be a little irritated. Was he getting annoyed? Hisashi's father used to adopt the same manner in front of his own father and his brother, but he'd once confided that it took all his effort to maintain his relaxed facade when what he dreamed of doing was snapping their necks. What was going through Lincoln's mind?
"Don't touch her," he growled, taking a step forward.
"Or what? You'll stop me? I'll have you fired."
Please, Lincoln, don't lay a finger on Jansen. Although I felt like punching the pig myself, I had no desire for Lincoln to lose his job over me.
"It's okay," I whispered. "I can stay a bit longer."
Lincoln's hand reached out, eclipsing Jansen's triumphant grin. "You don't need to. You can come with me."
I stared at his fingers, holding steady a foot away from me, and then looked at his eyes. They said what his mouth didn't: "I'll take care of you."
The smugness on Jansen's face faltered when I didn't immediately laugh off the idea, and I longed to wipe it away completely. But to do so would mean touching Lincoln. That contact scared the hell out of me, but was it worse than spending the rest of the evening with Jansen?
No. No, it wasn't. I tried to wipe my sweaty palm on my trousers without anybody noticing, then extended my hand towards Lincoln. It seemed to travel of its own accord, unconnected to my arm. The instant it touched Lincoln's own dry skin, his fingers curled around mine and a little of his strength transferred to me. I didn't look back at Jansen as Lincoln gathered up my bag with his other arm and led me from the room.
The instant we cleared the threshold, he went to drop my hand, but I clung on to what had become my lifeline.
"You okay?" he asked.
When I shook my head, he set off down the corridor towards the elevator. I glanced back in the direction of the practice room, half-expecting Jansen to follow, but there was no sign of him.
"Don't worry, he won't come after us tonight. He needs to regroup."
The elevator arrived, and Lincoln herded me inside. As the doors closed, I sagged back against the mirrored wall, catching a glimpse of myself opposite. Yeuch. The stress of the last few weeks had taken their toll, and hollow eyes looked back at me from under a limp, too-long fringe.
"Regroup? What do you mean, regroup?"
"He'll try to bully you down again, but you did well tonight. Like most cowards, he fights with words, so you need to fight back with spirit."
Any spirit I had left me years ago, that awful day when I was kidnapped. Hisashi's father had lent me his strength and his courage, but when he died, it went with him.
"I only wish it was that easy."
"Could you change group?"
"Maybe. But Brigitte's already been excluded, and if I complain about Jansen and he gets into trouble, then it might look as if I'm the problem rather than him."
"You had nothing to do with Brigitte leaving."
"I know, but the others might not see it that way."
Heat rose up my arm as Lincoln squeezed my hand. "Then we'll have to make sure you stand up for yourself. You want to wait downstairs with me until your ride gets here?"
I nodded, unable to speak as the corners of my eyes prickled. Kindness from strangers was a novelty that made me tear up, and I didn't want to look like a fool in front of this man.
The elevator arrived in the basement, a place where the low ceilings and lack of daylight made me shudder. Memories of being trapped in a cellar while fire raged through the building above brought me out in a cold sweat, and my pathetic whimper caused Lincoln to spin around, his dark eyes radiating concern.
"What's up?"
"I'm not so good in basements."
"We can go upstairs if you want."
And risk running into Jansen? "I'll be okay."
Breathe in and out. In and out. When I first got to America, Emmy showed me a series of breathing exercises, something she said had helped her to stay calm over the years in all manner of uncomfortable situations. Now I placed my hand on my stomach, feeling the movement as I breathed in on a count of five, paused and relaxed my shoulders, then exhaled slowly.
Lincoln opened the door to a small, messy office, the desk littered with scrawled notes, nails, and screws. He dumped the remains of a sandwich into the bin then shoved a pile of papers off a tatty chair and helped me onto it. My legs dangled in the air, hardly surprising as he stood almost a foot taller.
"Welcome to my palace," he said, giving me a lopsided smile before dragging over a toolbox and sitting down on it next to me.
The space may have lacked the opulent grandeur of the upper levels, but Lincoln's presence made it comfortable.
"It's nice."
His laughter filled the space. "You're so damned polite."
"No, really it is."
"Then it's you who makes it that way. Did you call your friend to pick you up?"
What did he mean by that first part? Did he just pay me a compliment? If so, I didn't deserve it. All I'd done so far was put him in an awkward situation and take up his evening.
"Not yet, but I don't think I'll get a signal down here."
He motioned at a phone on the desk. "Use that one. Do you want something to drink? Water?"
"Water would be good." The back of my throat had gone all scratchy, like sandpaper.
"I'll be right back." He rose to his feet with a grace that belied his size, leaving me with a view of his ass as he strode from the room. I couldn't tear my eyes away until the door clicked shut behind him. What was wrong with me?
My thoughts were still jumbled when he came back a couple of minutes later.
"Did you get hold of your friend?"
"Driver. He's only my driver." I worried that Lincoln might frown on me for that luxury, but I felt the need to clarify my relationship with the man who picked me up every evening. "He'll be here in ten minutes."
The condescending look I'd expected didn't come. "Then I'll stay here with you until he arrives. You did well this evening."
"If you hadn't been there, I'd have given in. Next time won't be so easy."
"Where's your phone?"
"What?"
"Your phone."
I fished it out of my pocket with my left hand and passed it over. Lincoln juggled it until it was the right way up, then tapped away at the screen before handing it back.
"I'm nearly always here in the evenings. Now you've got my number, so you can message me if Jansen behaves like a prick again."
Tears threatened once more, but good ones this time. I almost hugged Lincoln, but that was a step too far, so I settled for a smile.
"Thank you. You didn't need to do that this evening."
"I've watched him behave shittily since he got here, and not just with you. A girl in one of his other classes threatened to chop his junk off."
"She told you that?"
"In this uniform, I don't exist unless people want something, especially in a place like Holborn. I overheard her speaking to her friend as they walked past."
I knew how he felt. For years, I'd cooked and cleaned for people who didn't give me a second glance until they wanted a little fun in the evenings. I'd heard men confess to murder, talk about cheating on their wives, and plot out drug shipment routes. When I escaped, I told everything I remembered to Emmy, and she'd passed it on to the authorities. Three months ago, she'd informed me the DEA had seized over a million dollars' worth of cocaine headed for New York based on the information I'd recalled, so at least my time in Colombia had served some purpose.
"I'm glad you noticed me," I said softly.
"I won't pretend to know much about classical music, but I'd have to be deaf to miss the way you play." Lincoln chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I keep getting behind with the cleaning because I stop to listen."
"Really?"
"Really. You've got a magic touch on that piano." The phone rang, and he reached for the receiver. "No, I'm the janitor... Yes, she's here. I'll bring her up."
He put the phone down and smiled. "Your driver's outside."
So soon? Ten minutes had flown by as I sipped water and listened to Lincoln's deep baritone. He stood, and this time when he held out his hand, I didn't hesitate. He said I had a magic touch, but as his fingers wrapped around mine, I had to disagree. It was he who held the power.