An English Lesson

I always thought that I was a fairly smart guy. I made it a point to never speak out of turn; unless I knew with absolute certainty that what I had to say was not only correct, but to the point. That all went to hell one day in a hand basket when...

Chapter One

My name is Harry James and I'm forty-five years old. I've been told by more than a few women in my life that I was handsome in a rugged sort of way. I have shoulder-blade length, dark brown hair and dark brown eyes with a hint of green around the pupils. I stand 6'2" and I weigh 225 pounds. I've been playing piano since I was five years old and keyboards since I was fourteen and over the years; I've been blessed to make a very good and lucrative living at it. Because of the fact that I've poured myself into my music for so many years; I never seemed to make time for a relationship. Don't get me wrong; there have been plenty of different women in my life. However; they either wanted nothing more than a one-night-stand or wanted more than I was willing to give. But, I never could seem to connect with any of them on anything more than a physical level. After so many years of the same thing; I'd resigned myself to the fact that I would spend the rest of my life alone, and I had accepted it.

I'm a professional pianist/keyboardist living in Nashville Tennessee and a little over a year ago; I received a telephone call from my agent, informing me that I was booked to play in London, England. I was supposed to play a three night debut performance with EMI London's newest female recording artist with an additional unspecified rehearsal time before the performance. My flight reservations had already been booked and paid for and my flight was leaving at 6:00am the following morning. So, before going to bed that night, I packed my bags with enough clothes to last at least a week to ten days. My agent had also informed me that all my instruments at the studio had been packed up and would already be loaded aboard the plane once I arrived at the airport.

After a ten hour flight to London's Heathrow Airport, and then having to pass through immigration and customs, I found myself standing in front of the record label's liaison person. He was a man of about fifty, sort of pudgy and slightly balding on the top of his head. He stood about 5'7" or 5'8" and smiled then extended his hand, and with a heavy English accent, said, "Hello Mate and Welcome to England! My name is David Baines and I'll be helping you get ready for the gig. If there's anything you need, just let me know!"

"Thank You, Mr. Baines," I replied.

He laughed and said, "You can dispense with the title of Mister. We're pretty informal so feel free to call me David, if you please."

I ended up staying near Barbican Centre, which is the only residential portion of downtown London. As our taxi pulled up in front of the flat where I was to reside while I was there, I was pleased that I would be staying there while in London proper. However; I had no time to waste admiring my temporary residence as I had work to do. As soon as my luggage was stowed; I went back down stairs, hailed a taxi, and then headed to the studio to meet the artist I would be working with.

Once we were at the studio, and after I'd been introduced to the producer, Toni Roberts, and her sound engineers, David looked at me and said, "Come on, mate, I'll introduce you to the lady you've come to perform with." I smiled and followed him into the suite to find my gear already set up and, to my surprise, someone sitting behind it playing. As we approached whoever it was, all I could see was their back. This person was evidently female, and had long blonde hair the same length as mine. Who ever it was could play extremely well, but it has always aggravated me when someone that I don't know sits down to play my gear without the consideration of asking first.

However, I wanted to remain polite so, when I got closer, I gently said, "Uh, excuse me but would you care to tell me just what you think you're doing?" When this person turned around, I was stunned.

She gracefully rose from the stool, and with a thick British accent, dryly said, "My name is Kiera Brighton. Who the hell are you?"

Before I could respond; David stepped in and replied, "Kiera, this is Harry James and he's going to playing piano/keyboards at your concert a fortnight from now." She looked to be no more than twenty three or twenty four at the very most.

However, after looking me up and down, she looked at David then back at me and sarcastically replied, "Oh right, you're that American that I've heard so much about. Well, I hope you're as good as they say you are or your ass is out of here," and then she turned on one heel and walked away.

I looked at David and said, "Just who the hell does she think she is, man?"

David laughed and replied, "She's the lady you'll be working with for the next two weeks," and then he laughed and added, "Rehearsal starts in a couple of hours so, if you're not too fagged out (tired), and are hungry, there's a restaurant a block down the street."

I felt much better after I'd eaten, and it was nearing time for rehearsal so, I made my way back to the studio. I thought about my initial encounter with Kiera as I walked, and while she was no doubt beautiful, there was something oddly familiar about her. She stood about 5'6" or 5'7", and if I had to guess; I'd say she probably weighed no more than 115 or 120 lbs. Her body measurements were proportionate to her size, and as I stated before, she had blonde hair the same length as mine, yet her eyes were a deep hypnotic shade of blue. Suddenly I was daydreaming about this girl and I silently chastised myself for it. After all, she'd treated me like shit from the moment I first met her. I'd tried to be polite about her playing my instruments, but maybe she misunderstood my meaning. If I was going to be working with this young woman for the next two weeks then I knew that I would definitely have to try and get along with her so; I decided then and there that I would try and talk with her before rehearsals began and offer an apology.

As I walked through the front door and down the hallway of the studio building, I rounded the corner to find Kiera at the water fountain getting a drink. She immediately glanced up, and upon seeing me, gave me a disgusted look. I had to move quickly so; I said, "Um, Kiera can I talk to you for a minute before rehearsals start, please?"

"It's Ms. Brighton to you, and what could you possibly say that would even remotely be of interest to me?" she asked, with a tone of voice that showed pure contempt.

It pissed me off immediately, and I defensively replied, "I was going to apologize for sounding harsh when I saw you playing my gear. But from the way your acting, I guess I was well justified," and before she had a chance to say anything further; I added, "It sure would be a shame for the record label to waste their money by bringing me over here."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" she hatefully asked.

Instead of answering her question; I looked at my watch and sharply replied, "It's time for rehearsal," and then I turned and walked away.

Rehearsals went smoothly that morning and although I was only playing with the rest of the band and not Kiera; she was in the control booth listening closely. So I made sure not to miss a single note and came in exactly when and where I was supposed to and stopped exactly when and where I was supposed to stop. Before I realized it; lunch break came and I was informed that I was through for the day.

On my way out of the studio suite, Kiera's producer, Toni Roberts, stepped out of the control booth and said, "Harry, can I see you for a few moments please?" Toni Roberts was 35 years old and a seasoned professional like me. When she and I had met earlier, I could feel the familiar vibe of my peers back home. As I walked towards her, I knew that I would be able to talk plainly with her and not be reprimanded or treated any way other than professionally. "I understand that Kiera gave you a hard time earlier today!" said Toni.

I just smiled replied, "It's no big deal, boss. I can handle it."

Toni grinned and said, "Could I persuade you to come into my office for a chat and a cup of tea?"

"Sure, but only if I can get some coffee instead," I replied with a grin.

"Look Harry, she's young and impetuous and a genuine pain in the ass, but she's got a voice like nothing you've ever heard, not to mention the record label has invested five million pounds in her career," said Toni, as we sat down in her office.

I nodded and replied, "Well Toni; that's all well and good but I don't understand why she's treating me like I'm pond scum. I haven't done anything to her and she's been nothing but a total bitch to me from the first moment I got here."

Toni smiled and replied, "Well I know that you haven't done anything to her, but, there's something you need to know!"

"What?" I asked.

Toni leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath and began "Kiera came from a broken home. Her mother worked two, sometimes three jobs just to make ends meet."

"What does that have to do with me?" I asked.

Toni smiled and continued "Her parents split up when she was ten. Her father, whom she idolized, left them both and ran off with a younger woman."

"I still don't understand," I said, now totally confused.

Toni kept smiling and said "Harry, her father was American, and a musician, just like you!" Suddenly it stuck me, and before I could say anything else; Toni continued and said, "Ever since then; anyone that was American or anyone that even associates themselves with anything American, she despises with a passion so, try to understand that she's jaded when it comes to America or Americans, and especially American musicians."

"I'm not like that at all and I think it's wrong for her to judge us all because of the actions of one particular prick, who just happened to be American. That's the trouble with the rest of the world. They think we're all a bunch of ass holes!" I said angrily.

However, Toni reached across the table and patted my hand and said, "It's going to be alright Harry. Give it a chance and I think everything will work out just fine, okay?"

"Well, if you say so," I replied, shaking my head.

That night I lay in my bed sleeping through fitful dreams, and for reasons unknown at the time; I dreamt of Kiera. I saw her running towards me crying with her arms outstretched. However, the faster she ran towards me, the further away she drifted from me. Suddenly I woke with a start and looked over at the clock on my bedside table to find it was only 4:00 am. I got out of bed and walked into the kitchen of my apartment and retrieved a cold soda from the refrigerator, then went out onto the balcony to take in some fresh air. London is similar to New York City in the fact that it's a city which never seems to sleep. My apartment was on the top floor of a thirty-five story building.

As I looked out on the skyline of London at night; I could see Big Ben and the house of Parliament keeping watch on the banks of the river Thames. London is a city steeped in history and my thoughts drifted to the macabre tales of yore. Places like Hyde Park and Jack the Ripper came to mind. The British say that rumor has it that upon the death of a certain member of the royal family, presumably Queen Elisabeth, the true identity of Jack the Ripper shall be revealed to the public. It leads everyone here to believe that he was a member of the royal family, as he was never caught. That kind of thing didn't surprise me in the least as I'd seen some pretty wild things up to this point in my life. Due to the jet lag I knew I wasn't going to be going back to sleep. So, as I sipped my cold drink; I began to relax and think of the job I was here to do, but more importantly; my thoughts drifted back to the dream that had awakened me earlier. What was it about this girl that began to haunt me? I was a little uneasy and I knew that it wasn't attraction, because from the moment I met her; she'd acted like a spoiled child. Hell, she was almost a child in comparison to my age anyway. But there was something different, almost special about her, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I dismissed it as more jet lag and put it out of my mind.

~~~~~~

By 9:00 am the next morning; I was back in the studio ready to begin the day. Toni gave me the set list and charts I was going to be working on that day, and in doing so, asked, "So, how are you today, Harry?"

"I'm doing great," I replied with a smile.

Then she pointed to a particular song on the set list and said, "This is one that I want you and Kiera to work on first thing this morning. She wrote this and it's one that is going to be performed with just you and her. I think it's a hit."

"I'll do my very best, Toni," I replied.

She smiled and patted me on the shoulder and said, "I know you will Harry, that's why I asked the record label to try and get you over here to begin with."

"Thanks Toni, I really appreciate it. Now if we can convince her majesty (referring to Kiera) to be as appreciative as you..."

Toni laughed and said "Get to work, ya wanker!"

As I perused the chart of the song that I was to work on first, I decided to look at the lyric sheet that accompanied it. The words took hold of me and wrenched my heart. It was a very sad song about a little girl who'd had her heart ripped out by someone she'd loved very much. I surmised from the lyrics that it was about her father. The more I read, the more I began to understand Kiera, and by the time I finished; I was surprised by the feelings that coursed through me. I sat down and began to play it, and as I progressed further; I could empathize the pain I knew she must have felt that drove her to write this particular piece of music. Once I was done playing, I no longer had the anger that once shrouded me at the thought of having to work with her, nor did I feel pity either. An understanding of her came to me and compelled me to try and help this poor tortured girl find inner peace.

A few moments later; Kiera walked into the studio suite where I sat behind my piano. She looked at me as if I were beneath her, and with a very condescending tone of voice, said, "Toni told me that you were ready to begin rehearsal on the solo piece we're supposed to do. Do you think you can handle it without screwing it up?"

"Do you?" I asked smiling.

She glared at me and replied, "I wrote this song and I assure you that if anyone messes up; it won't be me. Do you understand?"

I nodded, and smiling, replied, "If we're going to do this; I suggest you stop flirting with me and let's get to work." The look of shock mixed with anger on her face was priceless, and I knew right then that to help her; I was going to have to give her the same attitude that she was dishing out to me. But instead of being full of anger and contempt; I was going to do it with gentle compassion and let her know that I understood what she was feeling. Although my father didn't leave us on purpose, none the less; I lost him at a young age when he became one of over 58,000 Americans killed in the Vietnam War so, in a way, I understood her.

I began to play and when she started singing; I realized I was listening to the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard. Not only could I hear, but I felt her pain with every word she sang. And when we were done, the tears were silently pouring down my face like rain. It didn't go unnoticed by Kiera either. She gave me an odd look, but before she could say anything; I excused myself and walked out of the suite and through the back door of the studio to get some fresh air. For the rest of the morning Kiera gave me strange looks, but she remained silent and distant. However, after lunch break was over she returned back to being the same person she'd been upon our first meeting.

Around 2:00 pm that afternoon we all took a tea break. I was sitting alone in the break room having coffee when Kiera walked in. She saw that I was having coffee, and with a sneer, said, "How typically American to have coffee on a tea break."

Instead of replying with something witty and flippant, I rose from the table and walked to the break room door and slammed it shut, making her almost jump through her skin. I glared at her, and pointing to a nearby chair, said, "Sit down, please."

She looked at me and replied "I don't take orders from anyone, especially you."

"SIT DOWN!" I yelled.

She cowered and took a seat.

Then I pulled up a chair across the small table from her and, in a gentle voice, said "Listen to me! I know why you hate Americans so badly."

"You know nothing about me," she replied defiantly.

"You think you're the only person who's lost their father? Well you're not!" I said, raising my voice slightly, and then before she could reply I added "Let me tell you something, young lady. I'm truly sorry that your father did the things he did, but that doesn't give you the right to take it out on all American men, especially me. I lost my father in the Vietnam War when I was very young so; I understand what it was like growing up without a Dad. However, you will not treat me like shit any longer. I'm trying to be as nice as I can. Most people would've told you to fuck off long before now. But I can tell that's not how you really are, and you know that's not how you really are. You've just forgotten that's all." Then I leaned in closer and said, "You'd better do some serious soul searching and try to find the sweet girl that I know is still inside you somewhere, or your music career will go down the shitter quickly, I assure you!"

With that I stood up and said "I'm going to my apartment because I can't stand being around your hateful ass any longer today," and then I opened the door and walked out. As I passed Toni in the hallway; I said "I'm going to take the rest of the day off if that's alright with you Toni?"

She smiled and said "Okay Harry. I'll see you tomorrow. Get some rest and we'll start fresh in the morning."

"Thanks boss," I replied, and then headed out.

Before I took two steps, Toni pulled me aside and whispered, "I heard what you told Kiera, and I approve whole heartedly." I just smiled and walked away.

~~~~~~

When I got back to my apartment; it was nearing 3:00 in the afternoon so, I decided to take a nice long, hot shower. The water was therapeutic as well as relaxing, and all the tensions and stress of the day seemed to flow out of my body and wash down the drain. Afterward, I was sitting out on my balcony enjoying a glass of iced tea and deciding on where I was going to have dinner when I heard a knock at my door. Wondering who it was, I got up to answer it.

When I opened the door, I could've been knocked over with a feather when I saw Kiera standing there. "Well hello. What're you doing here?" I asked.

She looked like a frightened little girl right then when she replied, "Mr. James can we talk? I promise to be nice."

I smiled and said, "Mr. James was my father. My name is Harry, and we can talk about anything you want." As I invited her in, I smiled and said, "All I've got to drink is Coke, water or iced tea, but if you'd like, I can make you some hot tea?"

She smiled meekly and replied, "Coke will be fine, thanks." I could tell she was very nervous so, I invited her to have a seat on the couch.

As she took her place I went into the kitchen and fixed her something to drink. When I came back into the living room and took a seat next to her; I handed her the cold drink and asked, "To what do I owe this honor of this visit?"

She looked at me and, before she could reply, began to gently weep. Before long however, she was crying so hard that she began to tremble. I took her drink from her and set it down on the coffee table. I put my arm around her shoulder and said, "Aw sweetie, don't cry." She leaned into me and put her arms around my neck and continued to cry even harder. I just held onto her and let her get it out. Once she slowed down and began to regain her composure, I went into the bathroom and retrieved some tissue so she could dry her eyes.