Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

BELLA

" A nother no-show?" Emily asks, poking her head around my open bedroom door. When I nod, she says, "You need to charge a deposit. You can't keep letting people get away with this."

"It's okay. I've got enough for this month." Just . "What if they had a genuine reason?"

Emily walks into my room and drops onto the bed. We've been friends since high school. When I told her I planned on working two jobs to help pay Mom's way through college, she immediately offered to move in to help with the finances. "We always said we wanted to live together …"

She's one of the only people who didn't look at me like I was nuts. After all, it's supposed to be the other way around. But Mom worked herself ragged after Dad left, and I want to repay her.

"It doesn't matter," Emily says. "You're way too kind. Maybe I should handle the bookings from now on?" She takes one of the scrunchies from her wrist and ties her pink hair up. "You can think of me as your enforcer."

"We'll see," I mutter.

I pick up my phone when it buzzes with a text. Hello, Bella. I'm interested in booking some private lessons for my sister. She's a big fan of your online instructionals. Do you have anything available for this week?

"That looks good," Emily says when she sees me smiling.

"More work." I glance at the clock. "I'll reply and get ready for the restaurant."

"You're working too much."

"When Mom's working her dream job, helping to cure sick animals, it'll be worth it."

Emily stands up. "You're right. Anyway, I'm going to take a shower. Let me know if you need any skulls busted."

I have appointments open tomorrow, Thursday, and Sunday.

Excellent. How much do you charge?

Fifteen dollars per hour.

Did you miss a zero there, Bella?

I smile at the craziness of the question. Is he seriously asking me if I charge $150 for lessons?

No. I wish I could charge that much!

Fifteen dollars is incredibly low. My sister says you're an extremely talented violinist. She's watched all of your videos.

That's so nice! I pause as a smile spreads across my face. It's things like this that make all the sacrifices worth it. I honestly didn't think anybody watched the videos. I thought all those views were just me refreshing the page.

You've got a fan, Bella. Now state a real number.

That IS the number. I can honestly say this is the first time anyone has tried to haggle so they could pay MORE.

A big mistake young people make is undervaluing their skills. If Sofia were ever to become a tutor, I'd consider myself the worst big brother if I let her charge that.

I'm not some little na?ve idiot, I type, but then I delete it. His words have triggered something in me, but it would be a terrible business decision to let my true feelings show. Instead, I write, This is the amount I can charge considering my area and clientele.

Well, we're paying more, so state your number.

Are you always this bossy? I type. Then, again, I quickly delete it.

I don't usually feel the desire to joke around with clients, but the way he insists on paying more has me instantly convinced he's a good person. Before I reply, I remind myself why I'm doing this. For Mom. For her dreams. I've literally got one dollar over the minimum amount required in my bank this month to make rent and utility payments. The last thing I can afford to do is be proud.

What are you willing to pay?

No, Bella, he replies right away. That isn't how this works. State an hourly number that isn't insulting to yourself .

I almost type out something snippy and pissed. The idea that I'm insulting myself by trying to give people in the neighborhood the best chance is insulting in itself. Maybe that's why I decide to send something completely ridiculous.

Okay. $500 an hour. Let's start there.

I imagine him laughing at this, maybe rolling his eyes, whoever he is. He clearly doesn't want to take advantage, but that doesn't mean he'll let me take advantage of him. When his text arrives, I jump up, walk to the window, walk to the bed, walk to the desk, and walk in a circle. My heart is thudding like it's trying to hurt me.

Done .

Are you serious? I type. What if this is real? I search my mind frantically for anybody who'd want to play a twisted trick on me, but I can't think of anybody.

Yes. What times do you have available for tomorrow?

Let me check.

I rush through the apartment and knock on the bathroom door. The shower cuts off. "Yeah?"

"It's me."

After a moment, she says, "Come in." I push the door open, struggling to get any words out. Emily is standing in a towel at the edge of the shower. "Whoa, what's up?"

"Something crazy has happened," I say. "I don't know if it's real. Some guy wants lessons for his sister. When I told him the fee, he said it wasn't high enough."

"I've been saying that for ages! Did he offer more?" Emily squeals.

"Yeah."

"That's good of him. See, there are still decent people in this world."

"But it has to be a scam. Or a trick. Or something."

"Why?"

"Because he agreed to pay five hundred bucks an hour!"

"What?"

I laugh shakily. "Yeah, those are my thoughts exactly. Now he's asking if I've got any time slots tomorrow."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, a couple, but this can't be real, can it?" An idea suddenly occurs to me. "What if it's Dad? He wasn't a good person, let's face it. He ran out on Mom?—"

"And you," Emily cuts in.

"He was an alcoholic asshole before that. Maybe this is his way of twisting the knife."

"I thought he was in Vegas?" Emily says doubtfully. "I don't see what he'd have to gain from this."

"Who the hell would pay me five hundred bucks?"

"Maybe he's seen your videos."

"He has. Well, his sister has."

"There you go."

I sit on the toilet seat, curling my fist around my phone. When it vibrates, I almost leap up again. I need to diffuse this tension, but it's impossible.

Are you there?

"Ask for a deposit," Emily says, stepping from the shower. "If he's seriously willing to pay that, then he'll have no problem with a ten percent deposit, right?"

I swallow. "I don't know …"

Emily glares down at me. "Bella, you deserve to be paid for your work. When I was spending every weekend partying my ass off in high school, what were you doing? Practicing until your fingers bled. You were obsessed . Just ask him."

I quickly write the text. If I give myself any time to think about it, it will become too difficult. I've recently started a new policy of taking a 10% deposit in case of cancellations. Is that okay?

Sure, send me your bank details. What times do you have available?

I show Emily the screen.

"Send them, then!"

Going into my bedroom, I grab my bank information and quickly send the information. By the time I walk into the living room, I already have a notification from my banking app saying the funds have been transferred.

I can do anytime tomorrow from 11 a.m. to late evening , I quickly send and then look at the notification again—fifty bucks from DeLuca Investments Limited.

We'll see you at 11 a.m. Sofia is very excited.

Thank you! See you then!

I sit back on the couch. My head is cloudy, and my heart refuses to slow down. It's like I've had several shots of caffeine. I even go into my banking app to ensure the funds are there. It's not a glitch.

"This is crazy," I say when Emily emerges from her bedroom.

"The deposit went in?" she asks, sitting beside me with her notebook. She always makes a point of working on her poetry when she returns from work.

"Yeah. They're coming tomorrow. He seems real excited for his little sister." I imagine a young girl, her face full of excitement, the same thrill that burned through me when I first heard the beauty of the violin.

"He must be rich ," Emily says. "What's the name on the payment account?"

When I tell her, she quickly types into her phone and then shrugs. "I can't find them online."

"Maybe they don't have a website. I don't know."

"I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth," Emily says, shaking her head.

"You're right too. It's not every day something like this happens."

"Or maybe we've both been poor for too long."

Emily had it even worse than me growing up. I had Mom busting her ass and running herself ragged to give me violin lessons and the freedom to try my hardest in high school. Emily had a dad with a depraved mind and a mom with selective sight.

She grabs my hand. "This could be it, Bella. Your big break. You might even be able to quit the restaurant?—"

"Crap, the restaurant!" I jump to my feet. "I need to get ready. Dang, I won't even have time for a shower."

"Yes, you will," Emily says. "Use some of that deposit to grab a cab."

"That's a waste."

I usually get a bus and a subway to get to and from work.

"It's better than losing your job. Anyway …" She leans in, nudging me playfully. "You've got the money."

It seems surreal and incredibly difficult to believe, but for once, she's right.

"Okay, yeah, just this once." Heading to the bedroom, I mutter, "Now I just need to make sure I do a good job tomorrow."