Double Dealing: A Menage Romance(12)

"No," I agreed. “It’s carbon fiber. He sometimes plays it when he and I are stuck like this, or when we’re before a job in order to relax."

Jordan finished her inspection, then strummed the strings. She made a few adjustments and strummed again, smiling. "It has a decent sound. It's been a while since I played an acoustic guitar. Your brother is good?"

I laughed and shook my head. "No, but father insisted that we study music. Francois went first with the lute, a common Roma instrument before taking up the guitar. Father wasn’t pleased with it, he called it a peasant's instrument, but he permitted it. I, on the other hand, wasn’t given as much an option."

"Oh?" Jordan said, getting her fingers familiar with the instrument. "What did you learn?"

"I had to learn a classical instrument, as he termed it, so I studied the violin," I said, closing Francois’ footlocker and standing up. I noticed the grimace on Jordan's face, the downward twist of her features. "What is it? Something wrong with the guitar?”

"No, it’s fine,” she said quietly, holding the guitar in her hands and sitting down on the bed. "It's just that . . . I had a bad experience with the violin. I don't play it anymore.”

"I see. Well then, I’d love if you’d play a little, I’ll see if I can keep rhythm on the table top or something," I said lightly, wondering what could be so traumatic as to cause her happy mood to evaporate so quickly.

We went back out into the main area, where the fire did make a noticeable difference. Even with the beginning of the day's warmth trickling in, and the door being open for close to an hour to gather warmth from the rest of the cabin, it was still very chilly.

“It's been a long time since I played any acoustic guitar, so forgive me if I make mistakes," she said, taking a seat on one of the hard chairs that were supposed to be part of the dining table. "Any requests?"

I shook my head. I went over to the kitchen area and took out a wooden spoon, reversing the grip so that the narrow handle could act like a drumstick. "I can try and keep time with anything you like. Start with something easy, though. What sort of music do you play?"

"I'm normally into rock, but that's on an electric," Jordan replied. She thought for a minute, then nodded to herself. "It's been a while, but this is one of the first real songs I performed on an acoustic guitar."

Jordan started strumming, and with the way she was stroking all the strings at once, I thought she would do a traditional folk song or something like that. Instead, she shifted to a finger pick style quickly, grinning as she heard the sound. I nodded in appreciation.

"Hello darkness, my old friend . . .” I started, Jordan's head jerking up as she heard me sing along. She stumbled over a chord before she smiled and found where she was, the two of us harmonizing for the rest of the song.

When the last note floated away into the quiet air of the cabin, she set the guitar aside and clapped softly. "You said you knew the violin. I didn't know you were such a good singer too."

I felt heat creep up my neck and I shook my head. "I'm not that good. I just know some of the folk-rock songs from the sixties and seventies. My father, he was into that sort of music, so I grew up listening to it often. What about you, do you sing?"

"Not unless I've got three beers in me, which I never do," Jordan said with a laugh. "There's a reason I'm a guitar player and not a singer."

"I think you have a lovely speaking voice," I said, making her turn to blush. It raised an appealing pink to her skin, and in my mind, I could see my lips tracing that blush to see how far it went. She was distracting, that was for sure.

"You Frenchmen," she finally said, dismissing my compliment with a wave of her hand. "Come on, let me play some more before my hand gets too cold. It'll help me pass the time."

For the next hour, on and off, we entertained ourselves. I was surprised at the breadth and depth of her knowledge, as she strayed from rock and roll to some light country and even traditional spiritual music. I countered with songs that were not only in English, but French, Spanish and Russian as well. "How'd you learn so many languages?"

I shook my head, smiling. "I don't know nearly as many as it seems. I merely learned the music itself. I only speak English, French, Rom and my country's native language. The rest of it I fake reasonably well when I sing. After all, Spanish is very closely related to French, and there are many words in Russian that sound similar to Rom."

Jordan set her guitar aside and looked at me, her eyes assessing me levelly. "Tell me, Felix. You seem like an intelligent man. You're multilingual while I struggle with English it sometimes seems, you obviously know a lot about art, technology, and things like that for your work. You're a talented singer, and from the way your hands are built, I can assume a decent violinist. You could make a good living doing regular work. Why do what you do? Why do you steal?"

Her words stung, and I stood up, going to the indoor sink and poured a cup of water. I'd asked myself the same questions many times, and to have this woman, who was already distracting me so much, to put a voice to the nagging doubts in my head shook me. "Despite what you may think, I'm not a stereotypical Gypsy, Jordan."

I swallowed the cup of water bitterly, dropping the cup in the sink. I don't know if she heard my next words, but they were for my benefit anyway. "Even if I am a thief."