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Music To My Ears Ch. 02

By: Mythrana



This chapter was edited by MistySerenade and I would like to take the opportunity to thank her for the fine editing. Again, if there were any mistakes it would be my own doing and has nothing to do with the editor. Thank you Misty.

*

"Hey Bob! There's a lady from the Social Services here to see you," one of Robert's staff called to him through the recording studio door.

Robert Duncan cut a trim figure. Even though he was in his early forties, he only had slightly thinning blonde hair. 

At the age of 24, he started a recording studio with some friends. He enjoyed meeting people and always had an upbeat attitude. Robert was well known for being loyal to his close friends. He had always had many girlfriends, but was never married. Robert joked it was because he was married to his work.

Robert gave a frown, a social worker? He was in the midst of arranging a piece of music with some violinists. He gave some instruction to his assistants before going out to meet the social worker.

Outside the visitor lounge was a very pretty young woman. She stood about 5' 4" with a lissome figure. She wore a white blouse and red slacks and was holding a briefcase. The first thing that caught Robert's attention were her eyes. She had very expressive big, golden brown eyes that smouldered with an underlying passion. Robert had always had this impression that social workers were middle aged with thick glasses and frumpy clothing. She, however, didn't looked anything like a social worker at all. She looked more like a catalogue model.

"Mr. Duncan, I'm Dominique Whitley. This is my name card," Nicky flashed him a bright smile. She simultaneously handed him her business card while extending her hand to be shook.

Robert grabbed her extended hand in a firm handshake. He was surprised when she responded with equal intensity. He could sense a raw energy in her. Her handshake said she was determined and wouldn't quit easily. He looked at her business card before acknowledging her,

"How may I help you Ms. Whitley?" Robert asked cordially.

"I've come regarding Mr. Eric Jordan Dillon," said Nicky.

Robert looked at her for a moment. "I think we can talk in my office. This way please."

Robert had come to know Eric when he had gone to his recital. Back then, Eric was still with The Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra.

Robert had read about the young, talented pianist and had wanted to personally see if he was the right person for his ballad. After the concert, Robert knew he was. Using the lure of his recording studio, Robert had persuaded Eric to collaborate with him on a full album.

The launch was phenomenal. It took the music scene by storm. Eric was already quite well known amongst his peers as an accomplished pianist. With the success of his first album, Eric had truly made his mark in the music industry.

While working on the album together, Robert and Eric had become good friends. Robert was fairly certain that friendship is what had brought the pretty social worker to see him today.

Robert led Nicky to his office. When Nicky stepped into the room she thought she was entering a small museum. It was full of discs and records hanging down from the ceiling. Pictures and posters of Robert with various recording artists were everywhere. Diplomas, trophies, letters of recognition and commemorative plaques graced every inch of his four walls. Miniatures musical instruments filled any available shelf. Nicky noted pictures of Robert and Eric dominated his huge desk in the office.

"So, what do you want with Eric?" Robert asked while settling himself down in his plush office chair behind his desk.

"I want to help him," Nicky simply replied.

Robert looked at Nicky for a while, as though scrutinizing her to see if she had an ulterior motive before speaking, "If the most expensive shrink in all of Philadelphia can't even help him, what makes you think you can?"

Robert remembered the first time he had persuaded Eric to see a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist had come out of his office with a black eye and promptly told Robert if he did not get a formal letter of apology and a suitable monetary compensation, he would sue them. Thus ended Eric's therapy sessions. No matter how Robert had tried, Eric refused to see another shrink again.

"Expensive doesn't necessarily means good. I know I'm confident in my work. See, there is difference between a psychologist and a social worker. Most psychologists sit on their behinds all day long in an office, waiting for clients to come by so they can counsel them. We social workers will do house calls even if the client refuses to come see us. I want to help Mr. Dillon regain his self-confidence. Social workers genuinely care for a person's welfare. We aren't in for the money," Nicky patiently explained to Robert the commitment of a social worker.

Robert liked the girl immediately. She had spunk and fire. He just wondered how long she would last before throwing in the towel. Even he had almost given up hope on Eric. Just last week he had gone to see Eric but Eric refused to even open his door. Robert had stood there for an hour before giving up.

"How did you meet Eric?" inquired Robert.

"Quite by accident, so to speak," Nicky explained to Robert about the incident that brought her here today.

"What do you want me to do?" Robert asked, after hearing about their unlikely meeting.

"I just need information about him, like what is he doing now and what he was like before. You don't need to register him with my center if you don't want to. Of course it'll be better if you do," said Nicky.

"Why are you so interested in helping him?" asked Robert.

"I hate to see people with talent waste away," Nicky admitted in a low whisper, "and I am a great fan of his music."

Robert nodded and thought for awhile. No harm in letting her have a shot at Eric's condition. Maybe she just might be what Eric needed. Someone who was pushy and stubborn; someone just like Eric now. How he wished he could do it himself, but he had a studio to run. He hated to admit that he was also afraid of Eric's temper. At least Eric wouldn't hit a woman, or would he?

"You've already seen him. I'm sure you know how difficult he can be. I'll advise you to approach with care. Music was his life. He lives and breathes in it. I try to see him as often as I can but I'm very busy with my recording, too. At the moment he is working part time in a factory by the dock, sorting out fish." Robert gave a sad laugh before he continued, "To think he was once a talented pianist. Now he is wasting his talent sorting out fish. He can compose beautiful music. It's a shame he just simply shut himself off."

"Yes. His first album 'Midnight Run', he composed tracks 11 and 12. He composed tracks 3 and 10 on 'Blue is the Sky', his second album. On his third album 'Affairs of the Hearts', which he collaborated with you on 2, 5 and 15," Nicky spoke as though she was giving her own recital.

"You know all his music by heart," Robert looked very pleased and impressed with the social worker.

She smiled without any hint of embarrassment. "I listen to him almost every night. It's only three albums. Not that hard to remember."

"Do you think there's hope for him?" Robert asked.

"Everyone has hope. I've yet to fail an assignment. People who care and love him should encourage him more, like you." Nicky could see Robert was genuinely a true friend of Eric from the way he spoke so fondly about Eric. He really wanted to help Eric.

"I signed him up for rehab for his alcoholism once, but he refused to go. He promised me he would cut down on his drinking. I don't think he's doing a good job of it, though," admitted Robert.

"What can you tell me about his childhood?" asked Nicky.

"Not much really. His parents died when he was three. He was sent to an orphanage. I think you know the rest, if you've done your homework on him," said Robert.

"And his personality before the attack? I mean the outside people, like us, only saw what he portrayed himself to be for publicity's sake..."

"One word: Passionate. He was very passionate about everything he did, whether it was composing a piece of music, or helping that old lady across the road, or giving his all to an audience when he was performing. He is a genuine person. He doesn't do all these things because he wants publicity. He does it because that's who he is."

Nicky was nodding her head as she scribbled down the details about Eric on her notepad.

"Sad to say, after the attack he changed. Now he is moody and withdrawn...there's a lot of anger in him, like his world has gone dark," Robert gave a sigh.

"Have you noticed he still has the spark in him? In his eyes?" asked Nicky.

"I have, but it's so hard to draw it out of him." 

"Well, we are going to do just that. If we can reach inside of him." 

"We?" Robert looked at Nicky incredulously.

"Of course. Don't you want to see him become his old self again?" asked Nicky crisply.

"I do! Of course I do," said Robert eagerly.

"Don't worry. I won't bother you everyday. I'll update you about his progress every few days."

"What do I do now?" asked Robert.

"I only need you to sign a referral letter that you referred him to us. It will make things much easier. If you don't want to sign it, I'll still help him on my own. I'm a social worker and my objective is to improve people's lives," said Nicky.

"I'll sign. I'll do anything to help Eric, too," Robert agreed earnestly.

"Oh, good. Here are some forms; I need you to fill out these...and these..." as she drew out some forms from her briefcase.

"You've come prepared?" Robert asked in awe.

"Always! There's no point wasting precious time," Nicky gave him a bright smile.

Twenty minutes later, she was out of the studio and on her way back to the office with the good news for Mimi. They got the case legally.

* * * * *

He had worked there for almost two years off and on. He would be considered one of the longest part time workers. People came and went in this line. It wasn't a glamorous job at all. Every day he came in, got the fish cleaned, sorted and packed for delivery. The job suited him fine. People here rarely interact. They worked, collected their wages and off they went. Only a handful of them were on permanent basis. They knew Eric had a strange character and would not talk to anyone other than what was needed for work, so he was pretty much left alone. There were a few that did try to make an effort to be friendly, but Eric would treat them coldly.

He always wore protective gloves when he worked. He would not take them off until it was time to leave, and even that was only if no one was watching. The moment he took off the gloves, he would wash his hands quickly. He would don another pair of cotton gloves and shove his hands into his coat, hiding them from view. Once a fellow worker had seen his hands and remarked, "Wow, what happened to your hands?" Eric had glared at him murderously. That night he went home, dunked his hands into ice, and got pissed drunk.

Sometimes, he wished his attackers had chopped off his hands completely, or that the doctor had amputated both of his hands, instead of leaving him constant reminders of their ugly appearance and almost uselessness.

Today, as usual, he had gone to the factory to work. After an hour someone called out to him, "Hey EJ, someone to see you out at the front."

Someone to see him? Other than Robert, who knew where he worked? And if Robert wanted to see him he'd always wait for him at his rundown apartment. Never once had Robert come to see him at work. Eric had warned him not to. He didn't want his coworkers to know who he was. He decided, whoever the person was, he wasn't going out to meet him or her. Then, a familiar voice rang out behind him.

"Hi," said Nicky.

"What the hell are you doing here? And how did you know where I work?" growled Eric when he saw who it was.

"Mr. Duncan..." said Nicky brightly.

Robert? Robert gave this pain in the ass his working address? How could he? Didn't he tell him not to let anyone know? He glared at Nicky before turning to his supervisor. He called out to him angrily, "Jake, I'm taking the day off!"

"What?" his supervisor answered, looking startled, "You can't just take the day off!"

"Take it off my pay! I'm on an hourly wage! I know what I can and what I can't do!" Eric loudly called back. He pulled off his PVC working gloves before stuffing his hands into his pocket. He strode past Nicky without looking at her.

Uh oh! Trouble. Nicky thought grimly. She knew where he was going. She tried to call Robert but his mobile was switched off. Must be in the recording room. She had no choice but to follow Eric. Too late! He had gotten into a cab. Quickly she hailed a cab and told the driver to go to Duncan Studio.

* * * * *

Eric was so furious he strode into the studio without announcing to the receptionist that he had come to see Robert. The receptionist was shouting after him, "Excuse me, Mister! You can't go in there! Mister?" 

He went straight for the recording studio. Robert was inside talking to some artists when he felt someone grab him by the collar. The rest of the people in the control room and the studio were too stunned to react to the intruder.

"Hey! Hey! What the heck?! Let me go, Eric!" said Robert loudly realizing who it was.

Eric had never come by the studio after the attack. This was his first time in four years but he still remembered the place so well. The clean smell and quietness of the studio still overwhelmed him. He felt a familiar sense of belonging stirring within him. He blocked out the painful memories and pulled Robert into his office before slamming the door shut.

The office door quickly slammed opened again as two security officers charged into the room. They immediately reached for Eric. 

"Mr. Duncan, are you alright?" asked one of the security officers.

"No! No! I'm alright! He is my friend!" Robert quickly explained to the security officers. "Please, leave us. Thank you," The two security officers were baffled but they released Eric anyway and left them alone. 

"Nice of you to drop by, Eric. Nice way of greeting an old friend, too," said Robert, looking at a very furious Eric.

"I thought you were my friend!" shouted Eric. "Why did you sell me out? Why won't you leave me to live my life the way I want it to be?! Is that so much to ask for?"

"What are you talking about?" Robert demanded.

"You sent a bloody social worker to my workplace, that's what I'm talking about!" Eric yelled at him.

 Oh, that! Robert just remembered that he had given Nicky the address of Eric's workplace. Now he was going to face the music if he told Eric he had even signed him up for counseling.

"Calm down, Eric. I'm only doing it for your own good. You don't want to smell like a fish or be a drunk for the rest of your life!" Robert raised his voice a notch higher.

"Oh! So, now you are finally admitting that I'm not good enough to be your friend? The work I'm doing is just too disgusting for your liking? Then why don't you just leave me alone?" retorted Eric angrily.

"Eric! You know I don't mean it that way. You are a talented guy. Don't you think you are wasting yourself away when...when..."

"You just don't get it do you, Bob? I can't play anymore. Why do you keep humiliating me?" Eric argued stubbornly.

Robert was getting angry now. He had to get through Eric's thick skull even if it meant risking their friendship.

"How long do you intend to go on living this way, huh? How long? You are still young! You still have a life! It's not over yet damnit!" Robert argued back fiercely. "If Beethoven or...or Rahsaan Roland..."

"Don't talk to me about them! I'm not them! I'm me! Get it?!" shouted Eric.

"NO! I don't get it, Eric! You're just self-destructive! You're punishing yourself for mistakes that were never yours! I just want you to wake up; to realize that there are so many more things you can do, even if you can't play your bloody piano anymore!" 

"Will it make you feel better if I tell you I don't want to wake up?! I like the way my life is going now! It's my life!" Eric spoke harshly.

"YEAH! AND DRINK YOURSELF INTO OBLIVION TOO!" Robert shouted back angrily.

Nicky had arrived. She stood outside the office door listening to the muffled sounds of the men in the room, tearing at each other's throat. From the glass windows she could see Eric's eyes were blazing with fire. Robert's face was in a mask of fury, no not fury, more like frustration at Eric's stubbornness. She knocked on the office door, entering without being asked.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I would like to clear up something. It wasn't Mr. Duncan's fault. I took the initiative to persuade Mr. Duncan to let me help..."

"YOU! I've never met anyone like you before! Nosy!" Eric shouted into her face. Nicky closed her eyes.

"You forgot to add determined too," Nicky added bravely. Man! This guy was unbelievable. Nicky thought. He was worse than those troubled teens she had counseled before. That made her even more resolute to break through to him.

"Yes Eric, I took the liberty of signing you up on a counseling with this lady's center." Said Robert.

"You signed me up without my permission? I won't do it!" said Eric adamantly.

"Sorry buddy, you are still bound by the rules of this company. You forgot you are still under contract with me and I, as your producer and friend, have a right to see to your well-being," said Robert.

"Correction! Our contract ended two years ago! You don't have a right! You don't even have the right to reproduce my music! And you don't have a right in my private life! I'll sue you for invasion into my privacy!" Eric threatened.

Robert knew what Eric said was true. He didn't have a right, but as a good friend, he sure wasn't going to let him rot. "Go ahead. Sue me. At least the world will know you are still alive and wallowing in self-pity!" Robert dared him back. He couldn't let Eric waste his life anymore. After four long years it was time for Eric to wake up.

Robert pressed on, "All I'm asking from you, Eric, is to take this programme for 6 months. If it doesn't help, I promise I will let you be." Robert pleaded.

"I think you should give me a try, Eric. Can I call you Eric?" Nicky breezily interjected as though the three of them were having a normal conversation.

Eric looked at his best friend and the small woman incredulously. Why couldn't they understand his feelings? Why wouldn't they let him be?

"You two can go to hell for all I care!" He spat the words out through clenched teeth before stalking out of Robert's office.

"Eric!" Robert shouted after him, feeling sad and frustrated at his friend's stubbornness.

"Let him go Mr. Duncan. I think we got a start now," said Nicky.

"You call that a start? He was totally pissed!" said Robert.

"Well, I see it differently than you. At least he took the initiative to come and confront you. He is letting out his anger rather than bottling up inside."

"I guess you're right. Most of the time when I go to see him, that is if he even opens his door, he'll not say anything. He used to be so lively, cheerful, and handsome but look at him now... " Robert sighed in exasperation.

"Don't worry, Mr. Duncan. I'll do my best," said Nicky reassuringly.

Nicky left Robert's recording studio. She returned to her office to write a report on Eric's progress. She decided to go back to his workplace tomorrow and every thereafter until she broke through to him.

* * * * *

For the next two weeks she went to his workplace every morning without fail. She did not interfere in his work. She would sit outside the factory and take notes about Eric. Sometimes she just observed. Since she wasn't interfering with Eric's work, the supervisor of the factory left her alone. Eric tried to stay inside the factory, as far away from her as possible, avoiding her like a plague. Occasionally, he had to come outside to drag the boxes of fish left on the dock to be sorted out. Nicky would go over and try to talk to him. All Eric would do is snarl and growl at her in response.


Music To My Ears Ch. 02



Her presence had become such a familiar sight at the factory that the workers that used to make lewd remarks at her had stopped doing so. They roughly knew who she was but were afraid to ask Eric more about her. They decided to call her EJ's chick. Nicky took all this in stride, giving the other workers a 'haha...very funny' smile. 

Nicky would leave Eric occasionally to go back to the office and attend to her other cases. In the evening, she would be back waiting for Eric again to finish his work. Then, she would follow him back to his apartment or to the little eatery he frequented for dinner. To discourage Nicky from following him, he would sometimes stop by some sleazy and rowdy pubs for a few drinks. Nicky remain undaunted by his action and followed him in, despite her receiving catcalls and obscene proposals from the unruly patrons.

Nothing seemed to deter her from her objective. As long as he did not call the police to report her for harassment she would follow him - sometimes walking next to him and trying to start a conversation with him. Eric usually ignored her, pretending she wasn't there at all. Once in a while, he would tell her to get out of his sight or shouted at her on the street. Nicky was stubborn and always continued to follow him.

Eric was very angry and annoyed with Nicky's persistence. He had to get rid of her so he could be left in peace. He didn't want to call the police and blow things out of proportion. That would mean interacting with people, which he didn't want to do. Nobody, nobody would understand the pain he was suffering and he believe nobody would be able to help him.

Sometimes he would see Peter and Katrina in the news. Whenever he did, he would feel their betrayal all over again. Never once in the past four years had Peter or Katrina tried to contact him. It was always Robert or sometimes John, his former mentor. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Robert or John. It just hurt too much. Seeing them reminded him of his glorious past, a past he knew he could not possibly get back, and that was the last thing he wanted - to be reminded of his former life.

Eric went to work, as usual, but was in an even fouler mood than normal. Earlier in the morning he had been reading the newspaper. He came across the entertainment section, which featured and interview with Peter. He was about to launch his latest album called the 'Dawn of the Day Sonata'. It was Eric's composition! 

He remembered he had composed it when he had won his first piano competition. He had presented it to Peter for winning the second place. Now Peter was claiming he composed it! He hadn't even bothered to change the title of the music! This was the first time Peter had used his music. I suppose he thought I would've forgotten about it or maybe I was dead! He thought angrily.

To make matters worse, that damn social worker was already outside the factory. He walked over to where she was standing. She gave him a cheeky smile. Oh, he would show her alright!

"Don't you have anything else to do other than following me around?" He hissed at her.

"Oh, I don't have any appointments until 11.00am. So, I thought I'd come by to see how you were doing. You don't look that happy this morning. Do you want to talk about it?" Nicky offered.

"You know I can call the police and have you arrested for harassment?" Eric threatened.

Nicky knew he was bluffing. Drawing attention to himself was the last thing he wanted to do.

"I wasn't harassing you. I don't see any sign that says I can't stand here do you? Besides, you approached me. I didn't," said Nicky casually.

"What can I do to make you go away?" Eric hissed at her again.

"If you can give me an hour of your time, every day, I promise I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day."

Eric was about to reply when some of his coworkers remarked laughingly, "Having a lover's spat?" 

Eric was really mad now. He turned back to Nicky, "Get out!"

"Now, there is no reason to be...WOAH!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!" Nicky screamed as Eric scooped her up, handbag and all. He walked to the edge of the dock, where he ceremoniously dumped her down into the water.

Nicky fell into the water with a splash. She felt the water close in on her and began to struggle frantically. She never learned how to swim. She went under, then bobbed up again and coughed, "Help!" before going under again. Her fully soaked clothing weighed her down even further. She was in a state of panic. Eric was still up at the dock, looking down at her with a smug look in his eyes. She thought she was drowning as she gulped more seawater into her lungs. She started to lose consciousness. She felt like she was sinking slowly down when she dimly felt someone grab her and pull her upwards.

At first Eric felt extremely pleased for dunking the smart ass of a social worker into the water. After awhile of seeing her flailing about got him worried. She didn't look like she knew how to swim. She struggled a few more times and then went under completely. Eric was panicking now. Did she do that on purpose to scare him?

By now the rest of his coworkers had gathered to look down at the water. At first they laughed, but soon no one was even making a sound as they watched until someone said, "She is not surfacing!" That brought Eric to his sense. Without wasting anymore time, he threw off his shoes and windbreaker, jumped in the water, and dove under to try and search for her. He could vaguely make out her figure in the murky depths. He swam towards her, grabbed her then pulled her upwards. They burst out of the water. Nicky felt clear, cold air rushing into her waterlogged lungs. She immediately went into a spasmodic cough fit spewing out the water.

Eric grabbed her under her chin to tilt her face up before swimming to the steps by the dock. His fellow workers helped him to haul Nicky up while he dove under again to retrieve her handbag. When he finally came up, she was still coughing and throwing out the dirty water. Someone draped a blanket over her shivering body; yet another was handing her a mug of hot coffee.

"Sorry," Eric muttered under his breath, trying to avoid her glaring gaze. He threw on his windbreaker again.

She looked like a drowned rat. Her mascara was streaking down her face. Her silk blouse was ruined. She took a few more lungs full of air before looking at Eric. Her golden brown eyes were blazing with fury. She burst out at him in vulgarity, forgetting her manners, and forgetting that she was surrounded with men.

"What the fuck did you do that for?! I can't swim! You damn, bloody asshole! I could've drowned! Have you no brains? Don't you realize how immature your behaviour was?!" She was seething in anger.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I won't do it again." He promised as he downed the coffee that one of his coworkers had handed him.

"You won't do it again? There won't be a second time you moron!" She yelled at him some more.

Some of the workers were sniggering away. Eric's supervisor came and broke up the crowds, telling them to go back to work. This left Eric and Nicky sitting alone. After two years of working with Eric, his supervisor was used to Eric's eccentric behaviour and didn't urge him back to work. Eric had let her continue to yell at him until she simmered down. 

She was still huffing when Eric asked her, "So what do you want me to do? I already said I'm sorry," said Eric grimly.

Nicky was about to scream at him some more when she realized her chance had come to force him into accepting her counseling. "Well, at least you can compensate me!" 

Eric narrowed his eyes. Before he could stop himself, he had asked, "Compensate you? How?" Too late, he just realized she had him trapped.

"Let me counsel you everyday for the next six months," she said and added quickly, "Two hours each day after work or I'll press charges!"

When she threatened him about pressing charges, it worried Eric. He didn't want to get into trouble with the law. What if the media found out what he looked like now, instead of the former handsome talented pianist he had been four years ago? Suddenly he was confused with himself. Why was he so concerned with what people thought of him now? The public wouldn't have remembered him. They now have Peter Selleck.

Eric glared at her. Damn bloody persistent woman! He had put himself into a tight corner. He could not back out now. Eric glared at her again and then he noticed something; something he thought he would never do anymore - admiring. He was actually noticing her and admiring her. In her bedraggled state she looked alluring. Her wet short curls plastered to her scalp. Her golden brown eyes were spitting with fire. Damn! He must've been without a woman for far too long! He shook his head to clear his thoughts. 

"Well?" asked Nicky in a non-too friendly tone.

Eric gave a sigh of resignation, but he wasn't going to give up so easily. He would definitely make her life a living hell until she gave up on her own accord.

"One hour on alternate week days. Take it or leave it!" Eric growled.

"You're in no position to bargain with me!" Nicky argued.

"Forget it then! Go ahead and call the police. You'll know where to find me when they get here," Eric made a move to stand up.

Nicky stood up, too. The blanket slid off her body. Her wet silk blouse stuck to her skin, revealing a lacy white bra. Eric could only gawk at her, feeling a rush of desire. Nicky looked down at herself and felt her face turned flush. Thank goodness the rest of the factory workers were not with them.

"Fine! I'll see you tomorrow then, after your work." She said angrily, walking quickly off to catch a cab back to her apartment to change.

Later that night, she had wrote in her file: 'Client has accepted counseling and will start the session tomorrow. Client seemed to be warring with his emotions. At crucial moment, Client forgot his own disability and has attended to another's problem.'

Nicky omitted the part about her being thrown into the water, even though it is what ultimately got Eric to accept her counseling.

* * * * *

The next day, Nicky went back to the office to attend to her other cases. By 5.30pm she was back at the dock waiting for Eric.

Eric knew she would be back. He had taken longer than usual to finish his shift. Let her wait, he thought. He made her wait for him for at least an hour and a half before he emerged from the factory. That didn't seem to deter her at all. She greeted Eric with her usual smile, seemingly forgotten about what happened yesterday.

"Hi," Nicky greeted. She wrinkled up her nose in disgust. Eww! He stank.

"Get on with your counseling," growled Eric, but there was a gleamed of satisfaction in those ocean deep blue-green eyes of his, knowing the smell on him was getting to her.

"Why don't we find a restaurant and have something to eat while we talk? You know, counseling is not just you listening to me blabbering how life is worth living and blah, blah, blah. It's a two-way thing. Besides, you need to eat dinner, too. Oh, you can pay for the dinner. It's the least you can do for what you did to me yesterday." Nicky reminded him.

I'm not rich," he growled.

"Relax, I won't burn a hole in your pocket. I know your factory supplies the stock to the restaurants further down the dock. I know you guys get a discount, come on!" said Nicky cheerily as she led the way.

Eric could only glared at her. Unreasonable bitch! He cursed silently. Further along the dock were some fast food restaurants and small inexpensive eateries. Nicky decided to pick a small self-service fish and chips restaurant with open-air seating. They found some seats after getting their food. Nicky didn't say anything; instead she seemed to be evaluating him. Eric felt very uncomfortable with her stares. He didn't like feeling like she was dissecting him.

"Look, are you going to start your counseling or to stare at me? I don't have much time," said Eric grumpily.

"Oh? You've an appointment?" said Nicky as she tucked in a large piece of dory.

Eric noticed she had ordered an extremely large portion of food for herself and he wondered briefly where she stored all of that food in her small body. "That's none of your business," growled Eric.

"Are your manners always this impeccable or was it acquired?" Nicky laughed inwardly knowing she had scored a home run with that sentence. He was fuming at her now for that sarcastic remark. Nicky munched on some fries now.

Nicky had decided not to push him to talk about himself yet. She had to take it slow with him. He looked like a coiled spring. She was afraid that one of these days, he would wind himself tight and snap in two when he let himself lose. He was hovering between sanity and insanity. She could sense part of him wanted to change yet another part of him simply refused to. It was amazing feat that he could last four years without completely blowing up from the occasional outbursts that Robert had described.

She noticed he had donned a pair of brown cotton gloves today when he took his hands out of his pocket to carry the food tray. She decided to push just a little bit to see what his reaction was.

"Nice gloves," Nicky commented. He stopped what he was doing for a second then resumed his eating as though he didn't hear her remark.

"So how was your day?" asked Nicky as she dug into the bowl of salad now. Nicky never observed table etiquette. It didn't matter to her if she was supposed to eat her salad first. She would eat as the way she saw fit. If she wanted to eat the dessert first, she would do just that.

"Fine," came the short answer.

"So, you like your job?"

"Fine," came the same answer.

"I understand you only work part time. How do I know if you won't skip our session?"

"You don't," he mumbled.

He wasn't going to let her know which day he was suppose to be at work and which day he wasn't. He wanted her to run around. Fine. She'll call his factory everyday to see if he worked that day before coming down.

"So what kind of fish do you sort out?"

"All kinds."

"What else do you do other than sorting them out?"

Eric looked at her and slowly brought up his knife, making a gesture of cutting an imaginary fish. "Gut them," said Eric in a low voice. He then continued to wolf down his dinner.

"Sounds exciting," said Nicky airily. "How's your food?" Nicky decided to change the subject.

"Fine," yet another short answer.

Once more, they ate in silence. Nicky kept looking at him. She knew he was getting very annoyed with her for staring at him. She was about to start on her soup when Eric abruptly stood up and threw his napkin on the table.

"Wh...what?" asked a baffled Nicky.

Eric pointed to his wrist and without another word left Nicky sitting there and walked off. Nicky looked at her wristwatch. Dang. Times up. She didn't realize the time past so quickly. She still hadn't finished her dinner. Oh well, I guess I'll finish it alone.

Later that night, she had gone back to type her report. She sent a copy to Robert by fax. 'Even though Client had accepted counseling session, he however was still unwilling to communicate. Outwardly, Client had portrayed an uncaring manner about his appearance, however inwardly he was very affected by how he looked. Client often had a pair of gloves on to hide his scars when in the presence of others. Client had appeared fidgety and unwilling to have eye-to-eye contact. Will continue to monitor Client progress the day after tomorrow.'

* * * * *

Eric hated the dinner cum counseling session. It was humiliating enough to be counseled; it was even more humiliating to be counseled by a small woman at that! And yesterday he had even lusted after her. He must be really out of his mind. He was glad he was out of there when the time came. 

He passed by the small pub he used to patronize and stood outside the pub with that gnawing feeling in his stomach. He needed a drink. He was debating with himself whether to have a drink or not. Then his thoughts drifted back to the pesky, nosy, alluring social worker. 

God! Why did he keep thinking of her as alluring? What was wrong with him? She was there because Robert paid her agency to counsel him! She was no different from the shrinks. If he took off his gloves she would probably cringe away just like Katrina.

Arrggh! Why did he let Katrina into his mind again? I don't want to think about her! I don't want to think about her! I need a drink to make me forget! He told himself silently and pushed open the pub door. 

An hour later he staggered home. He didn't even change out of his clothing before he fell on his unmade bed, falling fast asleep.



Music To My Ears Ch. 03



Almost three months had gone by and Nicky wasn't making much headway with Eric. She was getting a little upset with herself, and her report to Robert wasn't exactly optimistic. Eric was still reluctant to talk much, which made it hard for her to propose any form of serious counselling or therapy for him. He would give her the cold shoulder and let her rambled away while he shut his mind off her. The invisible barrier he erected around himself was so thick, it was almost impossible to penetrate through, and he still drink. A few times she had quietly followed him after their usual session, and she had seen him went into the pub on his way home. After sometime, he came out staggering on his feet. 

Eric, on his part had tried means and ways to get rid of her but without much success. He would be on his most vulgar, uncouth and unsightly behaviour like, belching loudly right in her face or even picking his nose during meals just to spite her, but she remained unruffled. Sometimes the things he did were so gross he couldn't even stand it himself and yet Nicky had pretended she hadn't noticed, which inflamed him even more. In the end, he grudgingly admitted defeat and changed his tactic by giving her the cold shoulder and indifferent mentality instead.

He was still as unkempt as ever and he stank. Nicky took it as a sign of rebellion against her counselling. Each time they met up, he would be in his gloves. The rest of him would be shabby and crumpled, but his gloves were always clean. He would wear either soft cotton gloves in dark brown, grey or black or in black or brown soft leather, but both the last finger pouch would be cut off and the opening stitched up neatly.

This evening, Nicky waited for Eric outside the factory as usual. When he finally came out Nicky suggested they stroll back to his apartment instead and maybe grab a bite along the way. What Nicky had in mind was to get his inner self to be in touch with the sight and sound of the city again. Hopefully something might catch his eye and spark an interest in him, which might bring him around in accepting her counselling wholeheartedly.

"Whatever," Eric replied gruffly.

Along the way home, Nicky tried to coax him into talking music in general, but all he ever said was 'Yes' or 'No'. Sometimes she pointed out to him some buskers playing a harmonica or a blind man strumming his guitar away at the street corners. Or she attempted to interest him in some street painters who were painting with their feet instead their hands. Eric just gave them flitting glances and commented nothing, but inwardly he was seething in silent fury. What the fuck did she expect him to do? Use his toes to play? he thought furiously.

They were about two blocks from his apartment when Nicky suddenly stopped walking. Eric wasn't aware she lagged behind until she called after him. 

"Eric, could you hold on a second?"

Eric looked at his cheap watch and noticed they still had 15 minutes left. Damn! What now? He thought moodily.

Without waiting for Eric's reply, Nicky walked across the street to a very young girl, probably about sixteen by the look of her. She was dressed up like a streetwalker standing there as though waiting for customers. The young girl seemed upset seeing Nicky there, and they were now engaged in conversation. Eric could see the young girl was shaking her head at Nicky. Just then a burly youth came out of the shadow and stepped up to them and pulled the young girl away from Nicky. Nicky tried to restrain the young girl from walking away with the youth but the youth turned around, and pointed his finger at Nicky's face, as though to warn her not to follow them. Undeterred, Nicky chased after them. Hardly more than a few steps when the youth turned back suddenly, and punched Nicky on the jaw. Nicky lost her footing and fell on the pavement. The youth was about to drive a kick into Nicky's fallen form when he felt someone grabbed him around the waist and slammed him so hard against the wall that he felt his breath was almost knocked off from him. It was a tall stranger and the tall stranger was pummelling the shit out of him now.

The burly youth was taken by surprise and tried to retaliate, but the tall stranger seemed to be possess by some kind of madness and was pounding on him viciously. All he could do was to try and blocked off the tall stranger's slamming fists.

By then Nicky had regained her composure and pulled Eric off the struggling youth. Talking rapidly and loudly, she exclaimed, "It's ok! It's ok! I'm alright! Let him go!"

During the commotion the young girl had run off. Eric seemed to come to his senses when he dimly heard Nicky's frantic shouts penetrated his raging mind, and abruptly let the youth loose. The burly youth pushed at him and ran off as fast as his legs could carry him away from the tall madman. Eric was heaving under his breath after his outbursts and turned back to look at Nicky. She looked rather shaken and was slightly breathless too. Under the bright streetlight he spotted a cut and blood on her lower lip.

"You're bleeding," Eric commented under his gasping breath, which was slowly returning to normal.

"Am I?" Nicky sounded startle, as she ran a finger along her lower lip then winced. "Ow! I AM bleeding. You don't mind if we cut short our meeting? I need to get this fixed," as she pointed to her lower lip.

She began to walk off in the direction of the subway. She was about 5 meters away from Eric when she heard him call after her. "Do you want to come up to my place to get that fix?

Nicky turned back to look at him. "You sure about that? I mean I don't want to be in your way. Our session was over ten minutes ago."

"Yeah, come on," Eric offered.

They walked the last two blocks to his apartment. His apartment was smaller than hers with just one bedroom, a kitchen, the living room area and a small dining area. All the furniture looked old, and as expected, his apartment was in a mess as though a hurricane had raced through it. His sofa was full of outdated newspaper, mainly the entertainment section, and dirty clothing. Empty whiskey bottles stood on the low coffee table. There was no evidence of any kind that indicated he had ever been a pianist.

Eric came out of the kitchen carrying some ice, some wet cotton and...surprisingly a clean towel. He grabbed the outdated newspapers and clothes off the sofa and threw them in a heap on the floor to make a space for Nicky. He took off his outer coat, which stank badly of fish smell and threw it on top of the pile of dirty clothing.

"Sit here," commanded Eric.

Nicky took a seat as instructed and Eric sat on the low coffee table opposite her. He swabbed at the cut on her lower lip with the wet cotton to clean off the caked blood.

"Ow!" Nicky grimaced at the pain.

"Do you always do that?" asked Eric, as he continued to clean the wound.

"Do what?" 

"Run after underage girls on the street," he commented in monotone.

"Oh! I was counselling that girl and that...ow...guy must be her pimp," explained Nicky and winced again as Eric swabbed at her cut again.

Eric then put some ice into the clean towel and handed it to her.

"Here, press it on the cut. The swelling will go down," he instructed.

"Thank you." Nicky accepted the wrapped ice gratefully.

"Aren't you worried for your safety?" Eric asked in a rather curious tone now.

"Of course, but it's the risk we have to take, though that was unexpected. I didn't realize her pimp was there, " replied Nicky as she gingerly held the towel wrapped in ice on her lower lip.

"Why did you choose this profession?" he inquired. Again there was that hint of curious tone. Not very obvious but nevertheless noticeably.

Nicky realized he WAS suddenly asking her questions now.

"I've always wanted to help people," said Nicky honestly.

"It doesn't pay much, does it?" he queried.

"No...but the rewards are satisfying," Nicky answered with enthusiasm.

"Rewards? What sort of rewards?" His eyes light up in full curiosity.

"Spiritually," declared Nicky.

"Spiritually? You mean as in religious beliefs?" He raised an eyebrow at her now.

Nicky noticed she had his undivided attention and proceeded to demonstrate to him by thumping a fist at her heart. "No...it's here..." then pointing at her temple, "and here..."

Crazy woman. Eric mused silently.

"Are you done?" asked Eric. His demeanour was no longer that of curious but back to indifferent now.

Nicky got his meaning. He was chasing her off. A signal that said that was the end of their conversation...for now.

"Oh, err...yes, thanks again." 

She got up and moved to the door when Eric asked her to hold up. He went into his bedroom and came out holding a plastic bag and handed it to her. Nicky opened up the plastic bag and peered inside. It was her coat she had used to shield him from the rain when she had knocked him down about four and a half months back. She had forgotten all about it.

"Oh! Gee...thank you," said an astonished Nicky.

Eric moved to the door and opened it for her. She walked past him and then stopped.

"Can I ask you for a tiny favour?" Nicky squinted her eyes hopefully at him.

Eric did not reply nor did he chase her off but seemed to be waiting for her to continue.

"Err...will it be too much if I ask you to wash your clothes?" said Nicky. Eric just stared at her but she didn't miss that flicker in his eyes.

Nicky gave a shrug of her shoulders when he made no attempt to reply and walked out the door. She didn't hear him close the door but could feel his eyes on her retreating back.

"Catch a cab back. It's not safe walking to the subway," he called.

Nicky turned around and broke into a quiet smile at him and turned back to walk down the stairs out to the street. She took his advice and hailed a cab. Just before she got into the cab she looked up at his building and saw he was standing by the window looking down at her. She got into the cab and went home.

* * * * *

She sat at her computer in her favourite extra large size tee shirt. At the side of the computer was a big mug of hot chocolate filled with marshmallows. She was in the process of typing out her report about Eric. 'Client again demonstrated great concern for another individual's safety when faced with a dangerous situation regardless of his own safety. However there was a strong desire in Client's behaviour to hurt, as though to take revenge. Nevertheless, Client made an effort to open up and took the initiative to communicate, which was a very good sign. Will continue to monitor Client progress.'

Nicky felt very happy and satisfied but somewhat disturbed with today's progress. Happy and satisfied because Eric had conversed more than usual. Disturbed because he seemed almost murderous, which wasn't very good, but at least the punch sort of opened him up. She could at least afford a glimpse of Eric's other side of his behaviour.

She got up and grabbed the plastic bag that contained her coat was. She took it out and noticed it was cleaned and pressed. Nicky was confident she was finally making way with Eric. Not a huge step, but it was good enough. The next step was to get him into group therapy for alcoholism. That might prove difficult, but she had to try anyway. If she could turn him around, his fans might be able to see some of his work again soon. 

She returned to her workstation and faxed a copy of her report to Robert. She finished her hot chocolate and put on Eric's first album then turned off the light and went to bed.

That night she had another erotic dream again. She dreamt of the man with very soul piercing deep ocean blue-green eyes made love to her again.

* * * * *

Eric felt perplexed with his own behaviour. Why did he run over to help her? Didn't he want to get rid of the pesky nosy social worker? What was wrong with him? Just last week he even took her coat to the dry laundry. It was unintentional. He was rummaging through his overfilled laundry basket for something to wear when he pulled out a coat that was a few sizes too small for his frame. He realized that it had belonged to that nosy social worker. She must've used it to shield him from the rain when he had fainted. Yet what she had done tonight had let his guard down against her. He didn't bear any of the animosity he previously felt towards her. Instead a kind of respect had surfaced and he had viewed her in a different light.

He looked around his apartment now as though he was seeing it for the first time. This would be the first time a woman had stepped into his apartment and he felt some sort of an embarrassment welled up in him. He was embarrassed because a woman as pretty as a picture like Nicky would willingly come up to his smelly and untidy place, and not once during her presence here did she commented about the shabbiness of his place, which he called home. Not that he was always like this. He used to be neat and tidy too until he was attack, until he started drinking so he could forget about his once beautiful past and his ugliness and his pain.

He surveyed his rat hole again and was suddenly seized by an overwhelming feeling to clean up the place, to make it more presentable in case the nosy pesky social worker was to come here again. He bent down to pick up an old newspaper, then another and another and stacked them up neatly before putting them outside his front door. He found some rags and began cleaning up the place. Four hours later, his tiny apartment looked different and smelt fresher. All his dirty clothes were tumbling away in detergent in the washing machine. It took him a while to operate it, as he had never used it before. Robert bought him the washer and dryer set despite his refusal. Robert had even set it up for him, but not once, had he used it. He would wear his outer clothing over and over again and if he was almost running out of clothes he would just rinse them under the tap and hang them up in the bathroom to dry, but oddly he would washed his underwear properly and hang them out the small balcony to dry instead. Dirty plates and cutleries were cleared from the sink and washed. He even found some fresh clean bed linen, which he never realized he had and changed the bed and pillows.

Then he went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the small wall mirror for the first time. He hadn't bothered using it before but now as he stood staring at his reflection, he was shocked! He looked terrible! Was that how he had looked for the last four years or so? His dark ash blonde hair looked dirty, overly long and tangled. His beard and moustache was far too hairy and bushy. He smiled but he could hardly see his lips unless he opened his mouth. He opened his mouth wide, pushed his moustache up and beard away so he could examine his teeth. Still good. He still had a fetish for certain things like brushing and flossing his teeth diligently before going to bed, and every morning after he woke up. Unless he was so pissed drunk the night before that he forgot to do his usual dental hygiene and just flopped down the bed and snored away.

Now came the most difficult part; that was to face his ugliness; to see his scarred hands and fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to calm himself. He opened his eyes again and very slowly began to pull off his gloves one finger at a time. As his scarred hands came into view his heart began to beat faster. Not that he hadn't seen his scarred hands before but tonight he wanted to examine them real close. He wanted to face his ugly, scarred and 'pinkyless' hands without hating them, without going into a fit. He turned his hands this way and that and slowly clasped them together then separated them again. He ran his fingers over the spot where both his pinkies used to be. He flexed each and every one of his fingers and felt some tight feelings around the joints but still manageable if he didn't over flex them. 

Next he picked up the pair of scissors, which he found in his drawer and gave it a few snipping motion. So far so good. He took another look at his unkempt self in the small mirror and then began to snip away his long hair. After a long while his fingers began to hurt but he gritted his teeth, and persisted on, and went to work on his beard and moustache. 

Soon the bathroom sink was filled with unwanted hairs, and he dumped them into the toilet bowl to flush it down. When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he stepped under the hot shower for the first time in weeks. He couldn't remember when was the last time he took a proper shower. He rarely shower and he smelt awful what with all the fish smell too. When you smelt bad and dressed shabbily, most people would leave you alone but certainly not the pesky nosy social worker. She didn't really seem bothered with how bad he smelt or dressed but continued to meet him for their counselling.

Later, as he sat at his sofa holding a glass of whiskey and let his mind wander back to Nicky. She must be truly mad. Didn't she realize how dangerous her situation was earlier? If he hadn't been there the burly youth could have really beaten her up badly. He had to admire her though - small brave woman but definitely stupid. He wondered what Katrina would have done if she were in Nicky's situation. She would probably scream her head off. Then he gave a short laugh. Katrina probably wouldn't even be caught walking on the street in the first place. He remembered she was always in her metallic silver sporty Lexus wherever she went or he would be fetching her everywhere.

Shit! Why was he thinking about Katrina again? But then he noticed his heart didn't constrict that much thinking about her. When he thought about Katrina, inadvertently he would think about Peter too. Part of him hated them both yet another part of him wished them a happy married life. Maybe Katrina was right to leave him. He was nothing anymore. If Katrina had stayed with him, would he have been able to provide her with the kind of happiness and love she wanted? He remembered his attitude towards her the first few months after the attack wasn't pleasant either. She did try to endure his temper. It was surprising she could last six months with him. What really made him angry with her was, each time he tried to touch her, she would make an excuse to get away from him. He had tried making love to her but she wouldn't bear it. It was as though he was filthy or some kind of a leper, and it shattered his heart when he saw Katrina and Peter in bed. That was really the final blow to his already low self-esteem.

Barely two years into her marriage, he heard from Robert that Katrina had gone into a private hospital for attempted suicide. Sometimes he wanted to call her to ask if she was happy with Peter but then he realized she was no longer his concern. She belonged with Peter not him anymore. He never held any real grudge against Katrina despite what she had done to him, betraying him and suing him unreasonably but Peter was another story.

He loved Peter like a real brother and they went through thick and thin. Whenever they got into trouble at the orphanage, Eric would take the rap. But Eric didn't mind at all. Peter was his buddy, his best friend and confidante. 

When he was eleven, a couple came to the orphanage in the hope of adopting a child. Since the couple was in their late forties, they were hoping for an adolescent. They saw Eric and immediately taken a liking to him and had wanted to adopt him. When Peter found out about it, he was very unhappy and pleaded with Eric not to leave him behind or else he would kill himself. Eric promised he would not leave him and together they ran away for a week before they were found. Eric was determined not to get adopted, and insisted if the couple was going to adopt him they had to adopt Peter too. In the end the couple did not take him or Peter but adopted another child instead. 




Music To My Ears Ch. 03



There was another time when the staff at the orphanage found a packet of cigarettes on Peter and Eric had immediately came forward to claim that it was his and he was only using Peter to hide his little vice. For that, Eric was punished to mow the lawn for one month and Peter got away with it but Eric didn't mind. He saw himself as the big brother and protector of Peter for Peter used to be very skinny and small size and got pushed around a bit by the older kids.

Little did he know Peter would played him out and hurt him deeper than Katrina. For the first time in his life, he wanted to beat the shit out of Peter. When Peter tried to apologize after he was caught in bed with Katrina, Eric could feel the insincerity in his gesture and he thought he saw something like a triumphant gleam in Peter's eyes. He recalled John, their mentor had been dropping hints to him to watch out for Peter saying that Peter had an eye for Katrina but he brushed it aside and confidently assured his mentor that Peter wasn't that kind of person. Of course he was dead wrong, but no point crying over split milk now. What was done was done.

He got up from the sofa and walked into his bedroom to crouch down. From under the bed he pulled out a dusty suitcase and snapped it opened. Inside the suitcase were scores of sheet music he had composed over the years up to the week before he was attack. Some were completed work and some were unfinished. One of his favourites was 'Katrina, Katrina' which he never played for the public. It was his private collection. He had only played it for Katrina. She was so touched that she had cried and then they had made slow and unhurried love throughout the night.

In the suitcase were also old pictures of him with Peter from the orphanage days, from TPSO days and pictures of him with Robert, John his mentor and of course Katrina. As he sat there now on the floor reading, playing the music in his mind and reminiscing about his past while looking at those pictures, he felt sadness wash over him. He had wanted to destroy them all but he just couldn't bear to do it especially his sheet music and so he had kept them all hidden in the suitcase. 

Next he picked up the gold plated trophy of a figure sitting on a piano. It was his first trophy after he won his first competition at the age of fifteen. He could still remember that joyous moment when his named was called out, he was so stunned that he didn't know how to react until the MC repeatedly called him to the stage to receive his trophy.

He replaced the trophy in the suitcase and his mind wandered back to Nicky once more. Seeing her eagerness to help people had sparked a life in him. Maybe, just maybe she was the answer to his problems after all? Maybe she could really be the one that was able to help him see the light at the end of the tunnel?

He snorted and wondered what kind of woman she really was. Apart from being determined and stubborn as hell, what else was she good at? She may not be tall but she had a nice figure - full breasted with rounded hips and shapely legs. She definitely had a fiery temper too when she needed it and that appetite of hers. Never in his life had he seen someone so small and could eat that much and yet stay so trim. Perhaps the running about kept her fit.

Deep down, he knew he wanted to crawl out of the hole he had dug for himself but it was easier said than done. The first step was always the most difficult to take. Maybe what Robert had said was true; he hadn't really tried hard enough? But could he really do it? Would he be able to stand tall again? Dare he take the challenge? The images of the attack flashed through his mind again. It was so clear it seemed as if the incident only happened yesterday. He gave an involuntary shudder and quickly downed the rest of the whiskey to calm his nerves.

I've got to give it a try. I owed Robert and John that much and I owed it to myself, he thought with grim determination.

Tomorrow, tomorrow he would take that first step with the help of that pesky nosy alluring social worker. There he went again. Alluring. Why did he keep thinking she was alluring? He pushed the thought off and snapped shut the suitcase and pushed it underneath the bed once more. When he was ready, he would bring out the sheet music again IF he succeeded in conquering his demons.

Usually his sleep was filled with nightmares, but tonight instead of nightmares, he dreamt of a pair of warm golden brown eyes that seemed to be watching him with warmth and understanding and a lilting sensuous voice that seemed to be telling him it was okay to come out of his shell, that there was no reason to hide anymore and then had lured him into a peaceful slumber.

3/- 



Music To My Ears Ch. 04



Nicky panicked when she happened to glance at her wristwatch. She gave a loud wail of despair startling her immediate colleagues around her.

"What's wrong?" one of them asked in deep concern.

"I'm late!" she wailed again, picked up her handbag and rushed off like a speeding bullet. 

"That's so typical of our Nicky," another colleague commented good-naturedly.

"Watch out for traffics!" Yet another one shouted laughingly after her.

She overspent her time counseling Alanna, the girl she tried to rescue last evening but she didn't mind it at all; every minute was worth it. At least she knew Alanna didn't want to do what she was forced to do and had promised to call Nicky should her good for nothing pimp of a boyfriend ever looked up for her again. Then she had taken too long to prepare Alanna's report, which resulted in almost forgetting her mission, to harass Eric so she could persuade him to come to the clinic adjacent to the agency for treatment. 

She wondered what Eric's reaction be when he found her at his work place today when clearly it was not their appointed day. She would probably be snubbed or at worst - get an earful from him, but what the heck? It would definitely make a good excuse for her to thank him again for saving her life. Yes, she knew she was being unscrupulous but she wouldn't let such an opportunity slip by. Any chance of an excuse just to see him and get him to come down to the agency she would try it.

Her mind drifted back to last evening incident where Eric had acted like a madman pounding away on the burly youth when she was being attacked. Eric had even offered to tend to her wound. She was amazed at how gentle his administration was despite his disability and that proved her suspicion; his disability was more of a psychological issue than a physical one. She absent-mindedly slid her tongue over the still bruised spot on her lower lip and flinched slightly at the smarting pain.

She was so deep in thoughts that she didn't notice someone was directly in her path and walked right smack into them. The impact was so strong she almost lost her footing. Had the person not reached out to grab hold of her; she would've tumbled to the ground.

A bit dazed but otherwise unhurt, she immediately offered an apology without even looking at the person's face, "Oops! I'm so sorry," and turned her face to look up at the pedestrian. Whom she saw took her breath away. It was Eric himself, larger than life standing there right in front of her. She was so stunned all she did was stand there with her eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Trying to mow me down again?"

Did her ears deceive her or did Eric just try to tease her?

"Cat caught your tongue?" There it was again. Even though his face showed no emotions, there was definitely that subtle teasing note in his voice.

Finally she managed to collect her wit and countered, "No, of course not. I didn't notice you're in my path!"

Eric was dressed in his usual daily clothes; simple white t-shirt, faded jeans, windbreaker and gloves but everything about him spelled clean and fresh. His hair was shorter and gleaming and tied back in a ponytail. He no longer sported a bushy, scraggly beard and moustache. Both were decently trimmed and cropped close to his face although not without some nicks here and there. She could even make out his lips now. The change was astounding and she couldn't stop herself from staring.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to stare so blatantly?" Gone was the light teasing tone earlier. Instead there was irritation in his voice now.

"I'm not staring!" She sputtered guiltily.

"Oh, come on, don't deny it. So does my overall appearance pass your inspection or do you need to put me under the microscope?" Eric snapped sharply at her clearly getting agitated now.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry. Maybe I did stare...just a little but you surprise me," she admittedly sheepishly.

"Yeah, I surprise myself, too," he snorted in sarcasm. He was about to berate her some more but his heart softened when he saw her embarrassment. "Look, can we find a place to talk? It's about my counseling program," he continued in a more cordial tone now. He wondered briefly why on earth he had to put himself through this ordeal again but since he was already here he might as well get it over with.

Nicky thought she had just hit the million-dollar jackpot and her face immediately brightened up. She almost wanted to jump up in joy. For the past three months she had almost exhausted her energy in trying to get Eric down to the agency to no avail but today he had turned up so unexpectedly and even wanted to discuss about his counseling! Who would have thought of that?

She didn't want to question him why the sudden change of heart but she suspected it had to do with last night's little episode. The punch was really worth it after all.

She could hardly contain her excitement and bubbled enthusiastically, "Yes sure! Come on in to the agency."

As Nicky scrambled that few short steps up the door leading into the agency, Eric had a good look at her back view. Today she was wearing a white cotton sleeveless blouse that was tucked neatly in a pair of red silk pants (He noticed she like red a lot. Very unconventional color for social workers) and he could just make out the outline of her bra. The back of her forearms looked silkily smooth and tapered down to nice slender wrists. Then there was her small waist, which flared down to a pair of delicious globes that hugged her pants and jiggled seductively whenever she moved. I bet they feel as firm as they look! His hands itched and wanted so much to reach out to squeeze them. Suddenly he realized his lewd intention and snapped out of it. He felt absolutely appalled with himself for behaving like a lecherous bastard and quickly turned his attention to the back of her head instead.

They went through the main door and Eric found himself in a well lit, cool and comfortable reception area quite unlike what he had pictured in mind–noisy, stifling, cramp and full of unfortunate souls like the vagrants, unwed pregnant girls/women, drunks, druggies or some disabled sitting around waiting for help. Surprisingly, they were the only ones in the reception area. Well, possibly the lack of clients was due to late afternoon heat, and most probably everyone was having a siesta except him. He was being stupid for braving the heat to come down here like a lamb to be slaughtered. He was beginning to wonder if he might have developed some kind of madness disease.

They approached the reception counter where a cute, plump blonde was seated. Upon seeing them, she flashed Nicky a toothy smile, and then eyed Eric curiously as her gaze ran appreciatively up and down his length.

"Back so soon?" The receptionist asked in a too saccharin sweet voice, her eyes never leaving Eric. Earlier she had seen Nicky rushing past her in haste but within fifteen minutes she was back and with a tall, though a bit lean guy. Still, Eric was quite fetching with his ponytail and beard. It made him devilishly, darkly handsome.

Nicky did not reply to her question but inquired if there was any meeting room available instead.

"Room B is still available," said the plump blonde after giving the pad in front of her a quick glance.

Nicky thanked her and gestured Eric to follow again. They walked along the corridor with glass paneling where one could observe the ongoing activities of the other social workers busy at work. On the other side were doors upon closed doors. It looked like Room B was situated far down at the end, as their walk seemed endless. 

Eric could feel panic rising up inside of him. He felt as though he was walking to his doom and each step he took seemed to get heavier by the second. He had the urge to turn around and run the hell out of there. Before he could put his thoughts into motion, they came to a halt in front of a brown door with the sign 'Room B' etched on it. Nicky grabbed the knob, turned it and pushed it open before stepping aside to let him in. He had to twist his body sideway to enter the room in order not to knock into her. He was getting even more nervous now. To curb his skittishness, he concentrated on surveying the surroundings instead.

The room was simply furnished with the usual office chairs and a long table. A white board hung at the far end of one wall while some low cabinets stood at another side but what caught his attention were the numerous pictures that were pasted on the walls. For a moment he forgot his fear as the pictures captivated him. The pictures consisted of children, teenagers and adults in all shapes and sizes smiling happily with the staff of the agency. However he noticed Nicky was in almost every picture.

"They were our former clients benefiting through our various programs," she announced proudly to him.

Eric turned back to look at her. It was obvious she took pride in her job. The look on her face told it all – she was beaming.

Nicky could see he was very uptight and tense, and shifted his hands into his windbreaker's pocket.

"Would you like something to drink maybe? Coffee? Tea?" She offered trying to distract him from his uneasiness.

You! The thought shot across his mind despite his uneasiness. Instead he replied curtly, "Coffee."

"Right."

She prayed he wouldn't bolt on her as she hurried out, coming back a short while later with two cups of steaming coffee. Eric was unaware of her presence. From where she stood she could see him clearly; he looked awfully lost and forlorn. She pretended to make some noise to announce her return so he could regain his composure. Gingerly she handed over one of the coffees to him and noticed his hand shook visibly despite the glove he was wearing. He mumbled a 'thank you' before settling himself down into the nearest chair. Nicky took the cue and followed suit, taking the seat opposite him.

"I like to start my physiotherapy as soon as possible. How long will it take before...before I can use my fingers properly again?" He didn't waste time beating around the bush, but straight on to the subject. He was anxious to get on with what he had set out to do so he could get out of this drat place as fast as possible. He just didn't feel comfortable in here no matter how friendly or cozy the atmosphere felt.

Nicky knew how edgy and uncomfortable he was. If she said the wrong thing he would bolt on her and that would ruin any chance of bringing him around, so she chose her words carefully and began to explain the situation to him, "We can start you straight away but the progress depends largely on your will and condition. As far as I see it you have two major issues here; your alcoholism and your physiotherapy but you only have three months left with us. It's not enough time to solve your problems unless you continue with the counseling and therapy when the three months are up."

She held her breath when he did not immediately reply to her. Underneath the table she had her fingers crossed tightly. Eventually he replied to her, "I'll continue with the counseling and therapy but as you know I'm only a part time helper at the dock and I don't want Robert to continue..." Eric trailed off in mid-sentence looking extremely uncomfortable now.

Money and Pride! So he was concerned about the fees yet he didn't want to sound like he was begging for help. She understood all about human psychology. Pride was something humans priced highly, even though one was dirt poor. What was more, Eric was once considered rich, not to mention famous, but now he was down and out. To open his mouth to ask for financial aid was definitely a demeaning thing to do and an insult to his ego, yet he did need all the help he could get. She would have to make it look like he wasn't begging or they were taking pity on him.

"The main concern here is getting you back on your feet. You pay what you can afford and let us take care of the rest. Don't worry about it," she said reassuringly.

Eric felt as though a burden had been lifted off his shoulders and somewhat began to relax. "That's good to hear. So, who will be doing the physiotherapy on my...my hands?"

"Me."

Eric flicked his eyes up and stared directly into hers before replying in astonishment, "You?"

"Yes, me. I'm also a qualified physiotherapist besides being a social worker." She gave a short laugh when she saw the stumped look on his face. "Don't look so shocked," she teased. "I've the paper to show, you know." Her beautiful large golden brown eyes danced with amusement. 

Eric was always fascinated by the color of her eyes. They sparkled and shimmered like exotic rare jewels and have a mesmerizing effect. The more he looked at her eyes the more he found himself drawn deeper still into their depths. He couldn't seem to look away from them and kept staring until he heard his name being called from afar.

"Eric?" Her voice brought him out of his reverie.

Damn! I'm staring at her again. He quickly dropped his gaze down to her chin instead. "So erm...where will you be conducting this therapy?" The question was rather irrelevant. It was just that he didn't want to be caught staring so deeply into her eyes.

"Here in this building. Ours is a health and social service agency. If you notice, this building connects to the building next door, which is the polyclinic. We are quite well equipped. Maybe you would like to take a tour with me to check out our facilities after we're done with your registration?" she offered invitingly.

He shook his head in decline. "I'll take a rain check on that tour for the time being. Can we get the registration done now? I need to get back to work soon to earn some money if I'm going to pay through my nose for the counseling and treatment."

Nicky chuckled softly, "You won't be paying through your nose." He didn't laugh along with her but merely stared at her – again. This was the second time she caught him staring at her and this time he did it openly. She grew uncomfortably warm under his all-consuming gaze like he was going to devour her any minute soon.

Time was ticking away and he still stared at her without uttering a word. A deafening silence had descended upon them until she could bear it no longer. "Right, I'd better fetch the necessary documents. Be back in a moment," Nicky finally blurted out and hastily excused herself from the room.

When she got back, Eric was off his chair peering at those pictures on the wall again. She laid the documents and pen neatly on the table waiting for him to sign it.

"Will it hurt much?" He asked without turning back to her.

"What hurt? Oh, the therapy?"

Eric slowly turned back to face her looking rather glumly. He didn't answer her but merely blinked down at her. That was when she noticed his eyelashes. They were long, thick and curly – in fact far too curly for a man. She was so absorbed in his eyelashes that she forgot what he was asking her until he cleared his throat to get her attention.

"Huh? Oh, sorry." Nicky felt a blush rose to her cheeks for being caught staring back at him. She hid her embarrassment by replying in a brisk and professional manner, "Well, first we'll get the physician to access the degree of your damage and from there I will be able to facilitate and develop a treatment plan for you. I'm not going to lie to you that there will be no pain. There's bound to be some discomfort the first few times when I apply pressure but I'll be gentle."

Eric once again sat down on the chair and picked up the documents to read through it thoroughly. When he was satisfied with its content he picked up the pen awkwardly and scrawled his signature on the dotted line.

"I can hold onto bigger objects but it's rather difficult for me to grip at something smaller in circumference like...like a pen. I can't squeeze my hands tight together for long. It just hurts and I have to relax my hands. You know what I'm saying?" He spoke without looking at her. 

Nicky detected pain, bitterness, even a hint of self-pity in his voice and her heart went out to him. This further fueled her determination to help him to get over his problems so he could face the world and himself again.

"Eric, if you can spare me just another hour, I'm sure I can get our in-house physician to give you an immediate assessment of your condition, that is if it's agreeable with you," she suggested to him quickly.

Eric looked at her and saw compassion and sincerity shone bright in her eyes. Never had he seen anyone more beautiful. She looked almost like an angel to him. A surge of emotions welled up in his chest ready to burst forth. For a moment he almost lost control and broke down in front of her but he managed to check himself in time. Damnit! Get a grip of yourself! He chided himself sternly.

For the first time Eric smiled warmly at her. The permanent scowl that he wore on his face vanished and Nicky thought she saw the fleeting shadow of the once handsome, charming and talented pianist she used to idolize lurking behind the façade of this broken down man waiting to break out. She took that as a 'yes'.

"What are we waiting for? Let's go then!" She reciprocated with a beatific smile of her own.

Two hours later Eric walked out by the other entrance feeling rather light in heart and hopeful in spirit. He didn't even mind he actually spent an extra hour in there with Nicky. Perhaps things might really be looking up for him now. He could still hear the good doctor's words.

"Your bones are well mended. Just your muscles and nerves were neglected as no proper therapy was administered to them but nothing this lady here can't fix." The doctor inclined his head towards Nicky, which brought a blush to her lovely face.

Afterward Nicky even laid out the timetable for him - thrice a week for his physiotherapy and two times a week for his group alcoholic counseling session. At first he had protested strongly about the group alcoholic counseling but Nicky was very persuasive and he found himself agreeing to it – begrudgingly though.

He thought of calling Robert and telling him about his decision but decided against it. He was afraid he couldn't through this counseling. Should he give up half way and in doing so, it meant letting Robert and John down but most of all, letting himself down. He knew this was his turning point and would need every ounce of his effort to see himself through this patch of trying times. It would really be up to him to make it. The question was could he do it? Could he rise from the ashes again and shine like before? He shuddered to think what would happen to him should he fail. He simply couldn't afford to fail not when that pesky nosy social worker was so determined to help him overcome his problems.

He thought of Nicky. He wondered if he was blessed or cursed to have met her. He remembered how he detested her presence and persistency at the beginning. She was like a little shadow constantly hovering around him; like a speck of irritating dust that was impossible to brush off. He thought about her sparkling eyes; her ready smile; her bravery; her fiery temper when he had dunked her into the water. He thought of her tiny waist, her slender wrist, and her creamy forearms. He thought of her deliciously cute derriere. His mind began to wander further still. He imagined how her body would be like when she was naked – supple, soft with full, firm, up-thrust breasts. He wondered how her skin would taste like on his lips and her body writhing in ecstasy under his when he thrust into her. Just then a loud blaring honk jerked him out of his lurid imagination. For the second time today he had been having these vulgar fantasies about her and it irritated the hell out of him. He must have really been without a woman for far too long. He cursed at himself silently and walked off in the direction of the subway.




Music To My Ears Ch. 04



* * * * *

Later that evening Nicky faxed a very lengthy and optimistic report to Robert explaining Eric's initiative in coming to the agency to meet up with her. She further told him that Eric had insisted on paying for his own counseling. She implored Robert not to pursue Eric for the time being as the next few months would be very crucial to Eric. It would be his most fragile moment and Eric needed all his strength to concentrate on getting better. She did not feel it advisable for Eric to have disruptions or distractions and she promised Robert she would continue to update him on Eric's progress.

That night she slept peacefully unlike the past three months where she was tossing and turning fretfully thinking of ways on how to break through to Eric.

* * * * *

5 months later

Bam! Bam! Bam! "Eric! I know you're in there. Open up!" Nicky called loudly through his door.

"Go away!" came the muffled reply.

Nicky heaved a sigh of relief when at last he finally answered her. A couple of times when she banged far too loud, Eric's immediate neighbors had stuck their heads out and threatened to call the cops if she didn't stop the noise. She had to keep apologizing and appeased them saying she would leave very soon but of course she didn't.

"Eric, please," she begged. "Open the door. Let me in and we can discuss your problems. Look! Your neighbors are going to call the police soon. Now you don't want the police to come around here thinking something bad has happen to you right?" She tried threatening him instead.

Silent.

She heard some shuffling and finally he threw open the door glaring down at her with his hair unbound, eyes blood-shot red and drawn look.

"Which part of the 'go away' you don't understand?" He growled at her.

She looked at him resignedly. "Eric, you gave me your promise that you would not drink and..."

She didn't get to finish her sentence when Eric shoved a cheap whiskey bottle to her – unopened – much to her relief.

"I didn't drink damnit! I couldn't sleep the whole of the last two nights. That's why my eyes were so red and did you smell any alcohol on me?" He growled again.

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusion but you shouldn't have missed your group session for two days in a row. You had me worried," she sounded half apologetic and half reproachful.

"Why don't you try and give up something that you've been doing for the past five years or so and expect me to give it up altogether just after only five bloody months! Do you know how hard that is? Do you really understand what the hell I'm going through?" He raised his voice at her and seemed to grow louder by the minute.

Nicky hated it when he got into one of his dark moods. Anything or anyone could trigger his foul mood and when that happened he wouldn't come down to the agency for treatment and would lock himself in his apartment to sulk. Men sulked just like women. She admitted with grim realization. Eric was one of the biggest 'sulkers' she ever knew.

It was like the time where someone new in the group recognized him and asked to get his autograph. He had been so angry he shouted at the poor guy until he cowered in a corner and stormed out without completing the session. Nicky didn't chase after him, thinking he needed some time alone to cool down. The next day she waited for him, thinking he would have sorted out his feelings so she could continue with his therapy, but he didn't turn up and neither did he go to work. Nicky had to go to his apartment to see him. After standing outside his door for two hours, he finally let her in and eventually told her what happened. Nicky assured him the other guy didn't mean any harm and wasn't trying to rake up his past or remind him of his disability. However, this time it took her almost two full days and four solid hours before he relented and allowed her in.

Nicky sighed, "What happened now? Did someone else ask for your autograph?"

"No!" He glared at her.

"Then what is wrong? If you don't talk to me, how am I supposed to help you?" She tried coaxing him again.

"Nothing! I just feel so damn lousy. I'm failing this stupid counseling and the therapy isn't improving my condition at all!" He barked at her and stalked to his sofa before throwing himself down.

Quietly she closed the door and walked to where he was sitting. "Are you telling me I'm no good at my job? In that case shall I get someone else to take over my duty? Really, I don't mind. As long it helps you to progress it's fine by me."

"I didn't say you are no good! I'm just saying it's taking too long and I still can't write a quarter page of music without having the damn pain and...and...this bloody urge to drink is still gnawing at me!" He argued angrily.

She started to say something when she spied the two-day-old entertainment section of the newspaper headline. It read, 'Mrs. Selleck to be mum soon?' Below that it further reported that the golden couple was looking at some baby stuffs and Mrs. Selleck looked a bit pale and slightly thinner than usual.

"You still love her?"

"Of course not! It's just that I..." He didn't know what to say or to think. His feelings were in turmoil.

When he first read the news he was furious but later he wasn't sure if he was angry or jealous. He was positive he didn't love Katrina anymore but he felt cheated of a proper family life, of fatherhood. He always loved children as he was an orphan and he wanted lots of children if he was to marry. Back then Katrina wasn't keen on children but now she was going to be a mother. He chided himself. Katrina was still a woman, so it was perfectly normal to have motherly instinct and to want children but he felt angry just the same. Mainly he felt angry with himself. If he hadn't gotten out of his car to confront his attackers; if he hadn't been attacked; if he hadn't lost the ability to play the piano, he wouldn't be in such a sorry situation. If Katrina or any other girl had married him instead, he probably would've been a father already. IF! So many 'ifs'.

"Eric, it's perfectly alright to still think maybe even to continue to love someone..."

He interjected with such ferocity that she was taken aback. "NO! Damnit! You don't understand my feelings! It has nothing to do with love!"

It made her really mad when Eric was too stubborn to listen to reasoning. She raised her voice back at him. Hopefully it would get into his thick skull, "So make me understand, Eric! You just can't bottle it all up inside. I'm here for you! To help you!"

He leapt up suddenly and took a step towards her. "Alright! You want to know?! I'm at the age of thirty-three with no future! No money! No career! No love! No family! No friends! No nothing! Do you understand loneliness and the desire to be needed and to be held? I've not had any physical contact with any humans for the last 5 years. I'm hungry for that contact! Can you give it to me? CAN YOU?!" His voice was really booming now and reverberated across his small sitting room making it even seemingly louder.

She cringed from the force of his outbursts and took a tentative step back. She didn't like this overly aggressive side of him. He looked like a wounded tiger trapped in a cage and it gave her the jitters. She tried to compose him soothingly, "Eric, all these...these things will eventually come back to you once we get you back on your feet. It takes time and, frankly, I think you are doing remarkably well after only five months. Besides, you do have friends like Robert, John and me. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"You still don't get it do you?!" Eric's blue-green eyes gleamed at her stormily. The look he gave her was like nothing she had ever seen before. It was full of hungry yearning and – lust.

Instinct told her she should get out of there and fast but her feet seemed to be rooted on the floor. She didn't have the time to reconsider her option. In a flash Eric had reached out and yanked her to him slamming their bodies together. She gasped out in discomfort more than in fright. "Eric!" she squeaked.

His tall lean figure loomed over her in an imposing manner. Even in pumps, the top of her head came to his chin. For a moment he reminded her of her novels' hero – pirates. Only Eric was no pirate and they were not in a romance novel. This was reality and he was her client and he was beyond reasoning. His face was now hovering dangerously close to hers and she could feel his hot breath brushing against her cheek.

"This is what I need! This is what I've been hungering! Been missing! Are you going to give it to me? Will you be able to help me slake it?" He hissed menacingly and brought his face closer still forcing her to bend backward reluctantly.

"Let me go this instant, Eric! Or else..." She warned bravely but inside she was quivering with fear. Of course she had no reason to fear him. Eric wouldn't do any harm to her like...like raping her, right? But then one would never know for sure, especially when he hadn't had any close contact with the opposite sex for such a long time and maybe out of desperation he might give in to his base nature.

"Or else what? You and your tiresome lectures, I'm sick of hearing them. I want something more concrete. You want me to let you go? Fine! But not till I get what I want! Bob and John will never be able to provide what I want no matter how close they are but you can. And you did say you're my friend, didn't you?" His lips curved into a wicked grin and his eyes flashed darker.

She opened her mouth to argue but Eric swooped down like a hawk and captured her lips in a bruising kiss. The kiss was pure raw hunger, hard and demanding as though he was punishing her for all the troubles in his life. She struggled in vain effort to push him off, but he was too strong for her. He had her body locked in a tight embrace, which made it impossible for her to even thrash about. She tried screaming but her voice came out muffled, completely swallowed by Eric's mouth.

"Kiss me back, damnit!" He lifted his mouth long enough to command her and was on her lips again-crushing, bruising and burning, before she could utter a word or even breathe. Her eyes grew wide when she felt his tongue snake into her mouth and struggled more violently. She realized the more she struggled the more it enflamed him to kiss her and there was simply no way she could break free from his embrace. Quickly she tried to think of a solution to her sticky situation. The only way was to pretend to kiss him back in the hope that he might let down his guard so she could find the right opportunity to breakaway from his hold when he least expected it.

She stopped her futile effort to struggle and went limp in his hold. That seemed to work as she could feel his hold on her slowly slackened and he was no longer demandingly abusing her lips. He had softened his kisses but nonetheless still insistent and - hot. His kisses took on a different approach now. It was getting more erotic with the intention to seduce. Sensuously he traced her lips with his tongue and nibbled around the edge, which elicited a soft gasp from her. 

Theoretically speaking she should be taking advantage of this moment to break free but in all practical sense she realized, with a touch of dismay, that she didn't want to breakaway. In fact she was welcoming his delicious onslaught and beginning to enjoy it. His kisses were making her dizzy and arousing her own primal need. She tried halfheartedly to resist but her sensibility had sprouted wings and took flight leaving her vulnerable to his irresistible assault. All she was aware of was how good his lips and tongue felt on hers. She felt a warm tingling sensation travel from the root of her hair right down to her little toe and could hardly suppress the little moans that escaped her lips. For a man who hadn't had a woman for the last five years he sure hadn't lost his touch. Unconsciously she slipped out her tongue to touch and duel with his.

Eric gave a satisfied groan and deepened the kiss when he felt her resistance fade away. It had been such a long time since he last kissed a woman. It felt extremely good to have a pair of soft pliable lips on his especially when they belonged to Nicky. She tasted so delectable and sweet. Dimly he admitted to himself that he wanted to kiss her all along, to taste her to devour her and the opportunity couldn't have come at the right time. It was long overdue.

Her light perfume combined with her natural scent intoxicated his senses and fired up his passion. His primal sexual instinct took over. Urgently he ran his hands up and down her back and curved over her buttocks and began to knead them. If she had moaned or resisted he was unaware of it. He was only aware of his arousal; his want and hunger for physical intimacy.

One of his hands had found its way to the front and cupped a perky soft mound. God! She does feel good. So soft and all womanly, his overheated brain registered hazily. He began to fumble with the buttons on her blouse and just as suddenly he realized how clumsy and awkward his fingers were, and an unnamed rage slowly but surely began to surface. 

Damn! I can't even undo her buttons properly let alone wanting to seduce her! She must think I'm a bumbling fool and probably laughing at me! Embarrassment and self-pity washed over him like an avalanche of freezing water and doused out whatever desire he experienced just minutes ago.

Abruptly he ended the kiss and thrust her roughly away from him. He muttered icily under his heaving breath, "Leave!"

One moment Nicky was dazed and drowning in an ocean of passion and the next she was being so coldly ordered to go. It confused her for a second but when she saw the look on Eric's face she understood. She understood the feelings and thoughts that were running through his now rigid body. She reached out her hand in an attempt to touch him but he saw her intention and evaded her. "Just get out!" He savagely informed her.

She hesitated for a second, then picked up her handbag that had fallen off some time during her brief struggle and walked silently towards the door. Her hand was on the knob, but she did not immediately open the door. Without turning back to him she spoke in a trembling voice, "I'll see you tomorrow the same time for your therapy." Then she was gone.

Only after he heard the soft click of the door did he crumble onto the sofa with bent head. He wanted to cry. How pitiful and pathetic he must've looked to have to force his attention on her. By God! She had even begun responding to his kisses. She must've really felt very sorry for him.

He was so full of self-loathing he picked up the whiskey Nicky had placed back on the low coffee table. He wrenched open the cap with the intention of drowning himself into oblivion and forget his despicable act, but he halted just in time and was now even more disgusted with his behaviour. In a fit of anger, he gave an outraged cry and dashed the bottle across the room against the wall. It smashed into hundreds perhaps thousands of pieces, exploding the liquid everywhere. The alcohol smell permeated the little apartment and jarred his senses. He felt revulsion set in and finally broke down. Tears like he had never before experienced fell like rain. 

He didn't know how long he sat there crying, but eventually he calmed down. He eyed the mess he made and slowly got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen to fetch a broom and a dustpan. Then, very carefully, he swept up the fragments. Next he took a mop to the floor and a wet cloth to the now slightly chipped wall. When he was satisfied that it left no traces of any alcohol did he stop cleaning.

He thought of Nicky again and felt shame hit him in the face like a slap. How was he going to face her tomorrow? Why did he give in to his baser nature? Why couldn't he control his emotions? He sighed miserably.

He sat there thinking about the whole incident and came to a decision. He had failed and failed miserably. He would never be what he was before. No matter how hard he tried he was bound to fail. He wondered why he even bothered trying in the first place. Tomorrow he would go down to the agency to see her face to face, to apologize and to tell her he was quitting. Then he would call Robert and John one last time to tell them of his decision before he left the city. He would never come back to Philadelphia again. NEVER! 

* * * * *

"Any pain here?" asked Nicky in a very cool professional manner, applying pressure on his third finger.

"No..."

She continued on with her task. After about five minutes she applied a little more pressure and he gave a little wince. 

"Pain?"

"Just a little..." replied Eric, then he tried to continue, "...about last..."

She interrupted him as if she didn't hear him, "This one is more stiff than the others and we're going to work on it more."

She went to work on his other hand. He had to admit she really did have strong supple fingers. He always enjoyed this part of the session with her, where she was touching his hands in the most therapeutic and soothing way, even though it was strictly on professional level. 

He woke up this morning feeling no better than when he went to bed. He dreaded coming down to the agency to see her but he had to. He owed her an apology and to wrap things up before deciding where to go.

When he got to the treatment room, he had meant to say his peace and be on his way, but Nicky had quietly ordered him to sit down. Reluctantly he took the seat and Nicky went to work on his fingers immediately. Through out the session he tried to find the opportunity to engage her in conversation so he could offer his apology but the lady had no intention of letting him do so. Each time he tried to say something, she would cut him off brusquely.

He stole a glance at her now and then but couldn't read any expressions on her face. The usual friendliness and chattiness was gone. Even her sunny smile disappeared. He tried to engage her in talk and once more she brushed him off. In the end he decided to just shut up. He told himself he would wait for the session to end before trying to speak to her again.

Another half an hour later their session finally ended.

"Well, you should be able to flex your fingers more and should be able to pick up a pen and write with ease for at least forty-five minutes or so." She informed him in a professional tone.

"Are...are you going to press charges?" He asked tentatively all the while looking at her intently for any sign of anger.

She blinked at him. "Press charges? Whatever for?"

"You...you're not angry about...about last night?"

She tilted her head to one side and gave him a disinterested look. "What about last night?"

Shit! Why was she trying to make things difficult for him? He opened his mouth but no words came out. He decided to clamp his mouth shut. He couldn't read her at all. Why wasn't she at least angry with him? If she had shouted at him, maybe he would feel better and not so guilty and lousy. 

"You wanted to say something else?"

He took a deep breath and began by apologizing for his uncalled for behavior and then proceeded to tell her he was quitting and last but not least to thank her for her effort in trying to help him. There, the deed was done.

Nicky only looked at him with a bored look. "You're done talking?"

He nodded dumbly at her.

"Good. Grab your windbreaker. We're going to a place."

Eric was startled with her invitation and eyed her suspiciously.

"I'm not inviting you. I'm insisting you come with me. After that you can go wherever or do whatever you wish with your life. I won't stop you," she informed him in dead seriousness.

"Where are we going?"

"Not the police station if that is worrying you." She had already reached for her coat and was putting it on.




Music To My Ears Ch. 04



She picked up her handbag and strode purposefully to the door. "Well?" She asked, seeing him still seated in the patient's chair.

Eric sprung up from the chair to grab his windbreaker and followed her out.

* * * * *

He didn't manage to catch what she told the cabbie, but he could see they were going out of town as the traffic became lighter and the city view disappeared slowly, making ways for wooded area. They didn't talk on the way to their unknown destination. He suspected she wouldn't tell him even if he asked. 

Eric could sense Nicky was very excited about something or rather excited about the place they were heading. Some time later they came right in front of the local cemetery. Nicky paid the cabbie and alighted with Eric on her heels. 

He couldn't contain his puzzlement any longer and asked in a curious voice, "Why are we here?"

"You'll see." That was all she said to him.

Nicky continued to make her way quickly through the well-kept cemetery. She seemed to know which row to go to. A moment later they came upon an upright headstone with two granite angels standing on each side. Nicky knelt down and started pulling some weeds out (not that there were any) then rearranged the white roses that still looked rather fresh on the headstone.

"I like you to meet my son, Alastair Michael Whitley." She announced with a touch of maternal pride.

At last she turned her face to look up at Eric astounded face. For the first time today she smiled at him – her usual genuine, beautiful serene smile.

"Your son?" He echoed in disbelief.

"Yes, my son. Here, see for yourself," she invited breezily and stood up to make way for him.

Still feeling astonished Eric looked at her questioningly then bent low to read the words on the headstone:-

Alastair Michael Whitley Born 3rd April 1996 Died 20th April 1996

He was really dumbfounded now. He wasn't sure if he should offer his condolence or what. He wasn't sure how to react to this piece of startling news either. Most of all, he didn't understand the meaning. Why on earth would Nicky bring him here to visit her deceased son who died even before he was a month old?

She seemed to read his mind. "I just want you to know that you still have everything going on for you and all is not lost. I lost a son whom I'll never get a chance to watch grow into manhood and you...you only lost the ability to play the piano. Yet you think you lost everything in this world. Along the way you even lost yourself. It's high time you find yourself again. You just have to look deeper." She smiled at him again then continued softly. "There are still so many things you can do whereby the only thing I can do for my little boy is to come and visit him often and bring him flowers."

"I'm sorry for your...for you..." He was lost for words but Nicky helped him in finishing the sentence.

"Sorry for my loss? Don't be. I'm not sorry. I know he is safe and happy somewhere up there." She tilted her lovely face skyward. Then in a more somber tone she said, "And believe me Eric, I do understand how you feel. I really do but it's time you move on and truly put the past behind you." She put heavy emphasis on the word 'truly'.

"I'm really trying very hard," Eric replied with equal solemnity.

"You didn't try hard enough."

He wanted to argue, but he had no base to argue. She was right and so he stood, quietly taking in her side profile instead.

It was already late in the afternoon and the sun had slanted far into the west. Still it shone bright and its' rays caught on her raven curls giving it surreal glow like a halo. A soft breeze stirred up the dry leaves on the ground and swirled around her feet, creating dreamlike scenery. She was a pretty picture to behold.

Lovingly, she ran her hand gently across the headstone. "Would you like to hear my story?" she offered softly without looking at him, her eyes still on her son's grave.

"You...you're alright to talk about it? He was a little shocked she had so generously offered to share her private life with him. All of a sudden he had this desire to know anything and everything about her. He wanted to get to know her like nobody else did and secretly he admitted to himself he would get to know her intimately one of these days too, and soon.

She turned her head to look at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Why not?"

He took a deep breath and replied a little uncomfortably, "I don't know. People don't just talk about their tragedies in life like...like it was normal daily affairs. You seem unperturbed by it," he reasoned, then added quickly, "I'm not trying to be judgmental. Of course I've no right to do so, but that's how you present yourself."

She turned her body to face him fully but didn't look at him. She seemed to be weighing his words. After a while she asked gently, "Is it so bad to talk about the tragedies in our life normally without getting upset? Must one continue to mourn for our losses? Why can't we let go of the past and continue with our existing life? Why must we constantly remind ourselves of past pain and unhappiness? The past is over. The dark days are gone. Life is for living not for brooding. Don't you agree?"

Whether he liked it or not, he knew she spoke the truth. He had been wallowing in self-pity for far too long it had taken root so deeply in his heart, mind and soul that, it hindered his progress. What effort he had given in the past five months just wasn't enough. He hadn't put in one hundred percent effort. That was why he still felt angry when someone asked for his autograph and especially why the news of Katrina's pregnancy affected him so much. If he had really let go of his past and fully concentrated on getting well, he wouldn't have acted so irrationally towards Nicky last night. He realized his faults now and fully comprehend her meaning of bringing him here. If he thought last night he was embarrassed with his behavior he was truly ashamed now.

He breathed in deeply of the crisp air around them and a sense of peace descended upon him.

"Thank you Nicky," he said simply. He didn't think an elaborate speech of apologies was what she needed to hear. "I would like very much to hear your story."

She broke into a huge grin. "A long time ago...."

He snorted a laugh at her quirkiness. "You sure have an odd sense of humor," he commented lightly.

She just shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her son's headstone to kiss the cold granite. She closed her eyes as if to say a prayer. She opened her eyes a moment later to acknowledge the gravestone lovingly, "See you soon my darling. Mommy gotta go."

"See you soon too Alastair," said Eric then added very softly beneath his breath and out of Nicky's hearing, "I'll take care of your mummy for you."

With that said both of them walked off, side by side, into the sunset.