Angie was the first to break the spell.
‘Bloody hell, Leon!’ she said. ‘You kept that quiet. You play like a pro. A real pro.’ She cast her gaze around the collected group for confirmation of her thoughts.
‘Respect, man!’ said Tiger. ‘Wow! I mean, just WOW.’
Leon, who seemed to have been transported to some other plane whilst playing, lowered the sax and looked at his feet and suddenly the Leon that Maggie knew, self-effacing, a bit nerdy and bland, reappeared. He shrugged one shoulder but didn’t seem to know what to say.
‘Leon, you’re incredible,’ said Maggie. ‘Where did you learn to play like that? And how come I’ve never heard you?’
Leon shrugged again. ‘I don’t play that often here. There never seems to be time. Sometimes, late at night . . .’
Maggie had heard haunting jazz sax playing when she’d been writing essays in the small hours, but it had never occurred to her that the music was actually live.
‘I’ve heard you,’ she said. ‘Or at least, I think I have, but I didn’t realise it was you. I thought it was just someone playing a record. It never crossed my mind. I mean, I’m sorry, I just had no idea.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Leon, turning to put the sax back on the stand.
‘Well, that’s it,’ said Angie definitely. ‘You’re dropping chemical engineering right now! What a waste! You should be in London playing Ronnie Scott’s. Or somewhere in New Orleans.’
Leon came back to the corridor and sat on the floor. He picked up his half-drunk can and dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That life’s not for me. I need a proper job. One that will actually pay the mortgage that I’m hoping to get.’
‘But you can’t do that,’ Angie insisted. ‘Not now. You owe it to yourself to be a musician. Hell, with a talent like that you owe it to the world.’
Leon’s cheeks blazed and he squirmed slightly, clearly uncomfortable at being in the spotlight for so long.
He nodded at the guitar that was still in Tiger’s hands. ‘Your turn,’ he said.
‘I am never playing again after that!’ replied Tiger with a grin. ‘What am I but some totally untalented hack?’
But he did lift the guitar again and started to pick out ‘Hotel California’。
‘Don’t you know anything from this decade?’ asked one of the others in a mocking tone, and Tiger immediately stopped playing mid-line.
‘There’s nothing from this decade worth playing,’ he replied.
‘Touché,’ said Maggie, and then wished she hadn’t in case it made her sound over-intellectual. She felt warmth creeping up her throat, although the wine wasn’t helping in that regard either.
‘Fair point,’ muttered the heckler.
Angie was still staring at Leon as if no one else was present.
‘Seriously, Leon,’ she said. ‘You have to do something with that talent. I mean. Seriously.’
Leon still looked decidedly uncomfortable. His ears and neck had gone red as well, pimples standing out angrily, and he stared resolutely at the carpet as if hoping that this would make Angie stop chiding him.
After a few moments, she seemed to give up and started talking to the others. She was right, though, Maggie thought. Leon really should make more of his talent, but she understood his thought processes. It was far more sensible to get a degree and a real job, and then play his music as a hobby; a wonderful one, but still a hobby.
They stayed in the corridor chatting and drinking for a while longer until they started to get complaints from some of the other residents about the noise levels.
‘I think we’ve outstayed our welcome,’ said one of Angie’s gang, as another door opened and then banged shut, the occupant expressing their displeasure. ‘Shall we head over to the Union?’
Maggie wasn’t keen on that idea. She was already up later than she’d intended to be. But then again, there was the draw of Tiger. If he was going to the Union, then perhaps she should go, too.
‘I think I’ll call it a night,’ said Leon ruefully. ‘I’ve got a nine o’clock lecture. I really should . . .’
‘Don’t be so boring,’ laughed Angie. ‘You’ve got the rest of your life to go to bed early. Come to the Union with us!’
Leon was obviously wavering. He looked at Maggie as if she could answer his quandary for him, but she just shrugged.
‘Oh, what the hell!’ he said. ‘I’m in.’