Pepper’s Penance Ch. 04

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Author’s Note

Pepper’s Penance is a slow burning romance that unfolds over the course of twenty-three chapters. This is not a wham-bam story. But, if you’re into that sort of thing, I think you’ll like this one. Check my profile page for other chapters.

Chapter 4: Baggage

The weather forecast on this particular Saturday was full of sunshine. But, as is often the case this time of year, the lack of insulating cloud layer makes for a chilly temperature in the air. That didn’t have any effect on Pepper’s wardrobe decision of course—same old jeans and a hoodie—nor did it alter her impeccable timing of always managing to show up just before lunch.

After only thirty minutes of playing, she already broached the topic of corned beef on rye.

* * *

“Pepper?” I waited for her to suck noisily through her straw one more time, chasing down the last remnants of her Diet Coke. The one that I paid for.

She was still sitting at the front counter with me, not having gone back to the piano bench yet. Not that there was anybody in the store besides Trixie and me to notice.

I glanced up from the loan application paperwork I was filling out as we sat together. Pepper’s cheeks were sunken in as she slurped.

“Pepper, why do you always play such depressing shit?” I said. Probably rude, but I felt like I knew her well enough to lay it out like that. And the slurping did not have me in the most cordial of moods.

“Not that your playing is… I mean, you’re really good. Why don’t you just play something happy once in a while?”

“I do.”

“Yeah, for like sixteen bars. At the end. It’s almost like an apology for all the moroseness you put people through during the previous ninety minutes.”

She slurped again at her empty drink cup, as if the soda fairy had come to visit, waving her magic cola wand to refill it.

“I have a piano at home, you know,” she said, and went back to slurping.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry. Just forget it.”

Pepper stopped sucking at the straw and set her empty cup on the counter. I swooped in, moving it to the far side, before she could pick it up again and resume her fruitless quest.

“I had a piano teacher once. He said all music is communication. He was very adamant about that. çorum escort ‘Before you play, you have to think of what you want to say.’ That was his favorite line.”

I sat for a minute, waiting to see if she would continue. Finally, I decided to fill the void.

“And what do you want to say?”

“Depressing shit, apparently.” She got up and strode over to the piano.

I followed a few steps behind. “Pepper, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Your henna’s fading, Ashley. Why don’t you freshen it up.” She put her fingers to the keys and started playing heavy, minor key riffs. “You bought lunch so I still owe you another hour I suppose. Depressing as it might be.”

I blew out a long sigh and listened to my mother’s voice in my head, saying, ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say dear…’

I walked back to the front counter.

“You should rip up that loan application,” Pepper hollered as she pounded the keys. “They’re a known predatory lender.”

I grabbed my head in both hands and slumped forward, my elbows landing noisily on the counter. I studied the laminate surface with unfocused eyes.

“I don’t exactly have the best credit. And in case you haven’t noticed, you and I are the only people in the store.”

“Trixie.”

“Trixie’s not buying anything, is she?”

“If you need money, Ashley—”

“What? You’re going to reach into your magic hoodie and pull out another wad of cash?” I sat up straight and turned to her. “This isn’t lunch money, Pepper. This is to keep my business afloat. The business that’s been in my family for three generations. This idea of buying used guitars is putting a strain on my finances. Not that they were great to begin with.”

“I’ve got—”

“Sure. Whatever. And you’ve got a Steinway at home. But yet you always show up here in clothes that look like you slept in them. Why should—”

“I do,” she said. “Sleep in them sometimes. Sometimes when the bottle’s dry and I can’t summon the energy to get up under the covers, I curl up on the floor and cry myself to sleep.”

I stood up. “Jesus. I—”

“I’ve got money, Ashley. She made sure I was set for life. Never wanting for anything. It doesn’t help.”

I walked toward the piano. Pepper didn’t look up, denizli escort but I could see her face. I could see enough of it to know that she wasn’t crying. She just looked, I don’t know, worn out. Tired. Tired of life.

“Pepper?” I laid a hand on her shoulder. Gently, so I wouldn’t spook her. “If you need somebody to—”

“To talk to? Is that what you’re going to say? Ash, what do you think I do every weekend at the park pavilion and now here in your little music store? ‘Before you play, you have to think of what you want to say.’ Remember that? Well, I’ve had a lot if time to think about it. Now I just want to say it.

“That depressing shit, as you call it. Every week I shout it out to the world. Every week they crowd around the pavilion to hear it. You’ve heard it for the past four weekends. But you don’t listen. Nobody listens. It’s my penance for all the rotten things I’ve done in my life, Ash. Don’t you get it?”

“Pepper, I—”

“Your henna’s fading. Why don’t you go touch it up. I’ll be fine. Really.”

“Pepper.”

“Let me know how much you were going to ask for on your loan application. I’ll cover you.”

“I—”

Pepper had gone back to staring at the keys as if I no longer existed. Her haunting melody continued, unabated.

I stood, unmoving, replaying her words in my mind, trying to make sense of it all, until the chime of the front door pulled me away.

I composed myself the best I could. “Hi there, what can I help you with?”

“Do you have that blank music paper? Just the lines.”

“Staff paper? Yep, right over here. We have loose sheets or notebooks, whichever you need.”

I left my customer to ponder the array of choices while I turned my thoughts back to Pepper and her reaction to the words I was quickly beginning to regret. Calling someone’s music ‘depressing shit’ was clearly not the best way to make friends. I really should have seen that coming.

After ringing up the sale, I decided to leave Pepper in peace for a while. I’d come to the conclusion that I owed the woman an apology, but I didn’t want to stoke the fire any more than I already had. Best to let her cool off at her own pace.

So I pulled out my glue bottle and did as she suggested. I touched up my düzce escort henna art and replayed Pepper’s words.

‘I’ve got money. She made sure I was set for life.’ and ‘It’s my penance for all the rotten things I’ve done in my life’. Whatever that meant.

I didn’t get much time to toss it around in my mind, because the door chime rang again. This time it was my favorite lunchtime delivery guy. I’d been expecting him since Friday afternoon.

“Namaste,” he said.

I press my hands together. “Namaste.”

“Cool henna.”

“Thanks.” I held up my hand, rotating it around while I spread my fingers so he could see. “Dave, right?”

He nodded.

“I bet you’re here for your Strat.”

“Yep.” He pulled out his wallet. It was fat with payday cash.

I leaned in and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Tell you what, Dave. I’ll knock twenty bucks off the price if you bring me a Diet Coke for my friend.”

“Shoot, for twenty, I’ll bring you two,” he said, and bolted for the door.

By the time I went to the back room to pull out the black Stratocaster I had promised Dave I’d hold for him, along with the special order black pick guard and back plate, I heard the door chime again.

“Nice,” he said, eyes fixed on the guitar and the two bottles of Diet Coke already forgotten about as soon as they hit the counter.

“I took a chance and ordered you a replacement pick guard in black,” I said, “No obligation, but since you mentioned Gilmour…” Pepper’s suggestion, actually.

“You into Floyd?” Dave’s eyes went wide. “Nice.”

“You bet,” I said, smiling as I rang up the sale.

I made a mental note to ask Pepper if Floyd played in the same band as Gilmour, but later, when she was in a better mood.

“This is gonna be so sweet.” He cradled the glossy black Stratocaster in his arms like a newborn. “Namaste, ladies. Namaste.”

I couldn’t help but smile. I didn’t make a ton of profit on the sale, especially considering how much I discounted it for two bottles of Diet Coke, but it was something. It was a step in the right direction. It was black ink in the ledger instead of red. And maybe Dave would tell his friends.

I closed the register drawer and let out a sigh.

“Her name was Natalie,” Pepper said.

I straightened up and walked slowly back toward the piano, a cold bottle of Diet Coke in my hand. I cracked the seal on it and handed it to her.

“I loved her very much. But not as much as she loved me. And I didn’t understand it until much later. And by then, of course, it was too late.”