Genie

"Don't give a f... care.  I don't care if you think it's not worth it. Those are my rates."  Peter hung up the phone.  Well, neither "hung" nor "up" really accurately describes the action he took slamming the phone down repeatedly after the conclusion of the conversation.  Though, the idea that the phone call in question had ended was, at least, the right one.  Some people just didn't understand how Peter could charge so much to do his job, but those people, Peter consoled himself, also didn't know what it was like to see their dreams come true.  To see what just a little bit of dedication and skill over a period of time could accomplish.

Peter stood up, grabbed his coat and walked out of his inner office into the outer office.

"You've got to dredge through a piano lesson in an hour at the conservatory downtown." his secretary Bill Melange told him.

"You uh.  Look good today Bill."  Peter nodded and continued towards the door.

"Do you really think that, or is that for Jeremiah?  I told him he should seek counseling, I really think that's the sort of thing people should do for themse..."

"And then where would we be Bill?  Remember, this is a business and we provide a useful service."  Peter continued out of the office and headed to the bus stop.

On the bus ride to the piano lesson Peter was scribbling nearly unintelligibly in a composition notebook.  Just about his life, day-to-day, and a sort of stream of consciousness.

this morning i woke up and then had a really great latte.  It was a hazlenut latte and I ground the beans myself.  Then I steamed the milk, hearing that deep gutteral roar of the white liquid bubbling up.  The roar that means this is *just* the right temperature, and it's not scalding.  Perfect.  The shot of espresso began to pour, and I just sort of watched it, slid it into a coffee cup, and before bitterness could overtake it added the creamy milk, first liquid, then foam rushing out of one container, saving the espresso from a certain lonelyness and desolation it would have faced without the milk added to it.  I then sipped tentatively.  It was really incredibly hot.  I burned my tongue on the tip, but there was still a fine nutty scent wafting up, and collecting in my senses.  A burnt caramel hazelnut taste lingered on my tongue for the rest of the morning...

Peter pulled out his phone.  Dialed another of his clients, "Hi Susan? I wanted to let you know I got in about forty five minutes of writing just now, and I did thirty minutes this morning.  That brings your weekly bill to $731.25.  Bill will fax you over a copy."

It took a moment for Susan's mind to differentiate the various verbs and nouns of Peter's last sentence.  For a moment she was about to ask why Fax shouldn't just bill her over a copy.  

"You know, I just had the funniest thought."  Susan said.  "When I was younger, I was always having those funny thoughts.  Words jumble and bounce around in my head.  My teachers always said I'd be a great author.  Anyways, how'd today go?  Do you think?"  Excitement creeping into her voice.  As she was talking Peter heard what sounded like Law and Order playing in the background abruptly muted.  Sensing she was still a little distracted it must still be playing in the background.

"It was really an inspiring session this morning.  I'm convinced people are going to start seeing my writing in a new light.  If I keep up with this dedication and my blog gets a little more circulation, it, it could be big." Peter said.

After a little too long of a pause Susan responded, "Oh that's good to hear.  After all my time at the office, I just want to relax, you know?  But I do so love writing.  Ah, it's so good to hear that it's going well. I mean my dream, it's finally coming true!" Susan sighed in relief and excitement.

"I think by the end of this month I'll have something to show an agent, and I'll keep you posted.  Oh and Susan?  Next month I'm going to start charging another $5 an hour for positive thinking, is that something you still want?"

"Uhm.  Well, Yes, I think it is.  Um.  Yeah, no I really want to feel good about this project, so that's fine.  Talk to you soon."  Susan said.

Peter clicked off. He stepped off the bus and began to whistle a little diddy he wrote earlier in the week.  Nothing spectacular, but he wrote the song himself.  He was set to perform it at an open mic this Thursday.  Anyone who showed up to the Splendid Cafe could get five minutes, and that was more than enough for a budding performer.

Still having a little time before his piano lesson, he stopped into a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop.  "I'll have a giant cafe mocha please." he ordered.  "Actually, that's too much caffeine, it'll excite me.  Can I have a Black Oil Stout instead?"

"Will that be all?" Missy the barista asked.  "We both know you hate stouts though."

"That will be all, thanks Missy.  You know work.  It's just, I did always want to learn to play the piano.  I've got to remember -- I only want the end result: playing Beethoven's Fifth by Christmas to impress my family."

"Well, that sounds like a tight timeline, do you have any experience?" Missy wondered as she popped off the bottle cap, and with a pint glass flat on the bar began to pour the beer.  "Dammit there's always too much head.  Sorry, I really ought to learn to how to pour better."

"That's a standard package, $20 flat.  Want me to find out?" Peter asked as he paid for the beer and began to drink.  His mood began to match the color of the liquid he poured into his mouth.

"Oh, no thanks.  I bought a book, oh let me sho..." Missy said.  The phone at the bar started ringing and she answered, called away by duty.

Peter arrived at the piano lesson already annoyed at his state, and thankfully, it wasn't going to get any better.