"Wow, this is awesome!" Henry, beaming, was delighted to finally enter the club, even at an hour when it was still empty – it only opened to customers later in the evening.
Regina had seemed to take Emma's advice about controlling part of what she couldn't stop from happening, and she had allowed Henry to visit Emma at the club after school and play the guitar if he wanted, on the condition that he'd be back for dinner and keep playing the cello as well for the time being. And of course, no slacking on the homework front.
After offering Henry a tour of the club, Emma took him backstage to the dressing room. Ruby and the drummer would only come shortly before opening hour for a quick sound check, so Henry and Emma had the place to themselves.
Henry was dying to play the guitar, and Emma had brought an extra one of hers. She explained to him the intervals between the strings, which were different from a cello's. He tried to play a couple of scales, grinning broadly in spite of his wrong notes. Emma smiled as she watched him figure things out, thinking how different from her he had turned out. His exquisite politeness and impeccable behaviour had Regina's name written all over. He also seemed quite educated and cultivated for his age.
Emma let him fumble a bit longer, then played a few chords on her own guitar. "Cool!" he exclaimed, perking up some more. She played a basic blues, humming a wordless tune over her guitar chords, then showing him how to play the chords. "You've got to loosen up a bit, kid! Music is about making people feel emotions. You won't get that by playing scales all night long. Just try to express your feelings!" Henry played the chords, awkwardly at first, then gaining confidence. A few moments later, he started singing improvised lyrics as well.
"Hey, not bad!" Emma cheered. "You're a fast learner! And unlike me, quite a decent singer!"
"Yeah," Henry answered, "I sang in a kids' choir until my voice broke. Mostly classical stuff, but we learnt some gospel songs as well. It was cool."
"Seems to me," Emma pointed out thoughtfully, "that you had the opportunity to do a lot of interesting things thanks to your Mum. I'd never have considered putting my son in a choir!"
"Well," Henry admitted, "music is the thing my mother loves most – way more than anything else. She's a great musician, you know. She's the most important musician in her orchestra, right after the conductor – that's called a concertmaster. It means she's the lead of the first violins and gets to play all the solos. But she's really picky and she hates pop music. She basically thinks it's just good enough for tone-deaf people. She's pitch perfect, you see."
"What about you?" asked Emma.
"Oh, I'm not! I think it's one reason why she's never happy with my playing. Strings are hard – there are no frets on a cello or violin's fingerboard to help us play in tune – and to my mother, every slightly wrong interval is like chalk squeaking on a blackboard. But I just can't hear things the way she does! And I like pop music. It's… you know… also music."
"Yep. You're right – music is music. The point is to play good music. I never went to a music school, I learnt to play the guitar on my own – actually, it was your father who first taught me the basics -"
"My father!?" Henry pounced. "Who is he? Are you still with him? Can I see him?"
"Easy, kid!" Emma smiled. "His name's Neal. He was my boyfriend when I was eighteen. He was an orphan like me. Pity he always came up with bad ideas about how to get money… We got caught for stealing watches. I took the blame for both of us because I didn't have a criminal record yet, and he disappeared while I was in jail. Sorry kid," she added, "I never heard from him again. That's why I had to give you up. I couldn't raise you in jail, so I had to let you go. I figured you'd be better off without me."
"Did my father know you were pregnant?" Henry asked indignantly.
"I never had a chance to tell him. When I found out, he was already gone. I could never make contact with him again."
"You mean he never wrote or called or anything?" exclaimed Henry, shocked.
"Sorry, kiddo," Emma repeated gently. "Neal was barely an adult at the time. Being responsible was not really his thing. Believe me, you were better off without him too. Don't you have an adoptive father?"
"No, I don't," Henry replied. "It's only been me and my mother for as long as I can remember. She hates needing anyone. I think she scares men away."
Emma could see Henry's point. Regina was quite impressive and seemed really good at keeping people at arm's length – including her own son apparently, whether she wanted it or not. Yet she definitely gave up a sexy vibe and was extremely attractive, Emma thought, sidetracked again by inappropriate memories of Regina in her silk pyjamas. There was no way such an appealing woman was alone all the time. Emma couldn't help wondering what it took to get her attention.