Page 111 of Drift

But the phone…. He’d switched it off, so how…?

Fuck. Tech. They really came with top-notch surveillance tech. Now he was fucked. They’d been watching for a few days. So why make a move now?

Heart in his throat, he left West’s side as her frown came his way, and he moved over to the window, giving a full half circle around Light. He needed to see if Light came with… friends.

The drive outside stayed empty, but the trees hid anything else going outside on the road. No one had called company from upstairs as they watched the CCTV, so….

So what the fuck was Light doing knocking on their door, violin in hand?

Drift looked at him as he added more resin to his bow now he’d tested a few strings out, never needing to headbutt someone so much in his life.

Then Light put bow to string and….

Drift suddenly winced, pulling his ear away as Light started to play.

JesusfuckingChrist….

That… that wasn’t just bad, it was… ear bleeding. Richter’s “Vladimir’s Blues” wasn’t a testing piece on the whole, and although mostly played on piano, it had a lovely resonance in here on violin. Only Light… he wasn’t bad, exactly, he was just, well, not Jackson’s crew talented.

A few more wrong notes came on G-string, and one or two of the kids crushed their hands to ears as Jackson got to his feet, looking more than… pissed off.

“Okay. Enough.” He pulled the violin off Light. “Keyne.”

Keyne came on through snacking on a chocolate bar, all arrogance back, looking like he’d never lose his bed, but everyone on the street put on a face to hide the truth.

Jackson tossed the violin his way, then took the bow off Light as well and tossed that too before grabbing both of Light’s hands and turning them palm up.

He rubbed his thumb into one of Light’s fingertips, then looked back at Brighty. “Get the Pro-mod and…” He gave another rub. “Fender American too.” He knew Jackson checked for more physical ties to the Night-walkers as well.

Brighty shifted off the floor, dragging West with him, and Light frowned at Jackson.

“Not your strongest instrument, is it?” said Jackson, and he nodded at Keyne.

Keyne put bow to Violin, and Drift briefly closed his eyes to just how skilled Vivaldi’sFour Seasons, “Violin in G Minor, Op8” hit the games room. The finger play came with style, with an arrogance that showed Keyne knew exactly how to play his fingers over a body too, and his attention was all on Light now.

It left Light looking away, no doubt seeing the level of skill.

As Keyne finished up and rested the violin at his feet, Jackson pointed Light’s way.

“Don’t piss on the talent I have here,” he said flatly. “You play honestly, or you don’t play at all, because that?” He pointed at the violin. “You haven’t played that properly in years, if at all when it comes to skilled play. No wonder you’re so goddamn thin.”

West and Brighty came back in carrying a guitar each, and Light seemed to stiffen. Cables were tossed back over at Leon over in the corner as he came to no doubt see who was pissing Jackson off, and he plugged them in as both guitars were laid by the settee.

Jackson picked them up and offered a choice of either over to Light. “One more chance. Choose damn wisely.”

Light didn’t move.

“It won’t be offered again,” Jackson said to him. “The calluses on your pad shows you’ve been playing guitar a lot longer than you’ve attempted to play violin, while the thin cut on your finger from sliding on the low e string shows you sometimes go for a blackout period without playing even that too. I know a guitar player’s hands when I see them because it’s my goddamn skill on the street. So me? Count yourself damn lucky I’m patient enough to see if you’re touch on these string plays honestly where your play on violin didn’t. Lies I won’t tolerate, not when it comes to hearing it through music.”

Drift winced as Jackson held the guitars out again.

Light shook his head, and for the first time, he paled, looking like he was going to throw up. “You don’t want me playing that,” he said quietly. “Piano or drums. I’ll do those for you, but not that.”

“You can’t carry a piano and decent drumkit on the street. You play this or nothing, dickhead.” Jackson flicked a look behind Light. “Or you take the walk, which tells me you lied over being hungry too. In which case, fuck off and stop wasting my time and bed space.”

Jackson started to turn away, and his look changing, a harder look in his eyes, Light stepped up and took the Fender American guitar off him.

“Hmm.” Jackson paused, his look focused on Light’s dark brown eyes, how…

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