“Why not?” I am curious why she wants to waste such a beautiful voice.
"I'll never sing on stage again.”
“Again, I ask why not?”
She just gives me a wide-eyed look like I’m missing something obvious. If I’m being outrightly honest, it is kind of intimidating. I don't want to back down though so I keep a poker face. She shrugs and adds. “I’m a teacher, not a singer.” She turns her head from me as if that’s going to deter me from the conversation.
She has no idea I refuse to be dismissed like one of her students. She’s about to find out how convincing Charlie Maxwell can be.
“Couldn’t prove it from where I was standing. Don’t you agree, kids?” For a moment I forgot the little hormones are still listening.
Some of them answer, the others look like they really couldn’t care less. I’m not sure why I’m pushing it so hard and so fast, but I don’t give myself time to think about it. I’ve committed to the jump now I just need to stick the landing.
“What I did tonight was for a charity. It was a one-time thing. As in, not gonna happen again.” She is growing frustrated, and if I am serious with myself, I’m enjoying the banter back and forth. Blush is creeping into her cheeks and it is so damn adorable.
Her innocence is refreshing. I’m not used to people saying no to me, and a sick part of me likes it. The fact that I’m getting under her skin is a huge bonus.
I shove my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels. “Who would have thought a teacher who sings in front of twenty students at a time would have stage fright in front of her peers?” Low blow but I don’t care. Her students glare at me letting me know that wasn't cool.
“Singing in class is vastly different. I am teaching, not entertaining. That was the last time I'll be center stage." She looks like she is resisting the urge to stomp her foot on the floor.
I flash her a wide smile. "No, it isn't," I took the opportunity to disagree with her.
She’s giving me a look that says, tell them and I’ll kill you. Of course, I have to tell them. They were clearly the reason she sang tonight so they may be able to sway her decision. I’m not even really sure when I became okay with the decision to have her singing with me, but I have, so might as well go with it.
The students look at our bizarre exchange with interest. If it takes playing dirty to get her to sing with me, then I am all about getting dirty.
I turn up my biggest smile and lean forward, talking to just the kids. I put my hand up, pretending that Ada can’t hear me and whispe
r loudly. “The reason I’m disagreeing with her is because my agent wants us to sing together. Do you know what a record deal is?”
A loud huff comes from Ada, but I pretend I can’t hear her and continue my underhanded ways.
Some of the kids just stare while others nod like I’m an idiot. I decide to explain anyway. “You know the music you hear on radios and stuff like that? That’s what my agent wants your teacher to do.” I look up at Ada, and she is seething. I can just about see all the nasty thoughts she is thinking about me. I am already committed to the routine, why not go down with a bang?
“If she decides to sing with me she could become famous. How awesomely cool would that be?”
Loud cheers and claps go up from some of the kids as they excitedly urge her to become famous. However, some of them looked unsure.
I hope I don’t sound like a stuck-up asshole. Because classifying myself as a big deal makes me seem a lot surer of myself than I actually am.
The students are a mix of emotions. The small blonde girl who was praising her when I walked up is the first to speak.
“Miss Springfield doesn’t want to be famous, she likes teaching us and her quiet life.”
“Is that true Miss Springfield,” I ask, “Do you like your quiet life?”
“I think it will be so cool,” another boy says before she can answer. “You would be the only famous person I know besides my cousin Robbie. He got lost at the Mall of America for a whole day.”
Ada nods thoughtfully maybe I got to her through her students. I think I want this more for her to have a chance at success than I do. Maybe it will make up for my being an asshole to her in high school. That’s a little scary caring about what happens in her life so much after just a short time knowing her again.
“I just don’t think we’d be a good match, Mr. Maxwell,” she says stiffly. “I don’t know anything about show business and what if our voices don’t go well together?”
“Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to give it a chance?” I ask her blocking her path as she’d been trying to inch her way to the edge of the chairs. I avoid laughing at her calling me Mr. because I can see she’s not in the mood for that.
Now the students are on my side a bit. They are saying perhaps she should try. I can see hope in all their faces and it kind of touches me how much they care about her. “You should do it, Ms. Springfield. You’re so awesome.”
“Yeah, Ms. Springfield.”