“Thanks for having me.” I stepped inside and tried not to gawk at the entryway, which was bigger than our entire living room back at the apartment. “Happy to help however I can.”
“Wonderful. My grandson is very excited to meet you. He's been practicing his signs all morning.” The man led me through the house, chattering about his grandson and how bright he was and how much they appreciated someone taking the time to work with him properly.
We walked into a spacious living room, and that was when I saw him.
Finn Callahan. Sitting on the couch with a kid who couldn't have been more than eight, both of them looking up as we entered.
Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me.
This was a complication. A huge one, because Finn played for the Wolves with Rook, and the last thing I needed was this getting back to him before I'd figured out what the hell I was going to say. But I needed the money. Needed it badly enough to swallow the panic rising in my throat and force a smile onto my face.
“Hey,” Finn said, standing and offering his hand. “You're the drum teacher Luca mentioned?”
“Yep.” I shook his hand and tried to look casual instead of like I was internally screaming. “Soren Vale. Nice to meet you.”
“Finn Callahan.” He didn't ask if I knew who he was, which I appreciated. “This is my little brother, Jamie.”
The kid waved at me from the couch, bright-eyed and curious, and then immediately started signing something so fast my brain took a second to catch up. When it did I had to bite back a laugh, because he'd just told me“his hair looked like a bird's nest.”
I glanced at Finn — whose hair was admittedly pretty chaotic — and signed back,“I think it looks more like a tornado hit it.”
Jamie's grin went absolutely feral.“Tornado bird nest?”
“Perfect description,” I agreed, and Jamie dissolved into silent giggles while Finn looked between us with suspicious eyes.
“What are you two saying about me?” Finn demanded. “I know that look. That's the 'we're making fun of Finn' look.”
“We're just bonding,” I said innocently. “Getting to know each other. Very professional.”
“You've been here thirty seconds and you're already ganging up on me with an eight-year-old.” Finn shook his head but he was grinning. “This is why I don't trust drummers.”
Jamie tugged on Finn's sleeve and signed something, and Finn's expression shifted to fond exasperation. “He says you seem cool and he already likes you better than his last teacher.” He caught my look and shrugged. “I've been around Jamie long enough to read most of what he signs. Can't sign back properly to save my life, but I can understand him well enough.”
“The last teacher was boring,”Jamie signed directly to me.“She didn't let me make jokes.”
“I can work with jokes,”I told him, matching my words with my hands.“As long as you learn something in between them.”
Jamie considered this with the gravity of someone weighing a serious business proposition, then signed,“Deal. But I'm making fun of Finn at least a little bit.”
“That's fair,”I agreed.
Finn threw his hands up. “You're both conspiring against me in a language I can't fully produce. This is discrimination.”
“You could learn to sign properly,” I pointed out.
“I know some,” Finn said defensively. “I can say 'hi' and 'food' and 'stop being a menace.'”
“Very useful vocabulary,” I said, deadpan.
Jamie signed something quickly and Finn groaned. “He says my signing looks like a confused chicken. See what I deal with?”
I was starting to really like this kid. He had that particular brand of clever-kid humor that came from being underestimated by people who assumed deaf meant less capable.
“Alright,” I said, setting my bag down and pulling out the small practice pad I'd brought. I looked at Jamie and signed,“Let's see what you've got. You ever worked with drums before?”
Jamie shook his head, but his eyes were locked on the practice pad with the kind of focus that told me he was already interested.
I signed as I spoke.“Music doesn't require hearing. It requires feeling. And anyone can feel if you've got the right approach.”
