Fire & Vice: Fear in Her Eyes

Chapter 2

Addison's lips stretched in a tight smile as she greeted Oscar at the concierge desk. He was always so kind to her, and indeed, rushed to hold open the door for her. Shaking off the chill she'd felt in the elevator, she forced her smile to come more naturally and thanked the older man before stepping lightly onto the pavement. It wasn't like her to get spooked so easily. After all, she'd lived in perpetual darkness her entire life, if she allowed herself to become jumpy over every little thing she would live in a state of constant anxiety and become a complete shut in. She couldn't abide the thought of that. She was way too interesting of a person not to share herself with the world.

But for a moment there, as she stood in the rapidly descending elevator she could have sworn that she'd felt something. A presence in the elevator with her. An elevator she would have sworn was empty when she'd stepped on. A shiver had run down her spine as her heightened senses picked up the tiniest hint of a masculine scent. Not cologne, or anything strong, but something natural, like warm male skin. It was so subtle she would have thought she was imagining it, except she had learned to trust in those senses long ago to compensate for her lack of sight. It must have been just the impression of a man who'd been on the elevator before her.

Taking a breath of the warm, exhaust filled air, Addison turned right. With her cane, she walked the fifteen steps to the corner. She listened carefully for footfalls against the pavement indicating oncoming foot traffic. Most people politely moved out of her way when they saw her cane, but some who weren't paying attention. Without being able to determine their size, she had occasionally taken an elbow in the chest or been sent flying into a window. People were generally kind and apologetic, but that didn't cure a painful bruise, so she learned to be careful.

Addison quickly made her way down to her usual subway line and waited at her usual pillar, approximately two steps to the left of and ten steps in front of where the door would open when the train arrived. Her colleagues always found it astounding that she would use the subway alone. They didn't understand how a blind woman could navigate the city with such ease. She just smiled vaguely and waved off their amazement and concern. What they hadn't seen was the painstaking hours she had put in when she'd first moved to the city to count every single step. The endless maps she created and memorized in her head that she retraced on a daily basis so she would never get lost. She often went back to certain streets and parks just to make sure that the maps were still accurate and to draw out new ones when the city changed or expanded.

She had gotten lost many times during her first year in the city and fought back panic attacks as she forced herself to find her way back to a familiar place. Some might call her brave. She could think of at least two people that would call her stubbornly stupid. Or was that stupidly stubborn? Whichever. She had lived in one of the seediest parts of town then, too. She was pretty sure her parents had upped her life insurance policy at that point in her self discovery journey.

She had done exactly as she'd sworn she would do though. She'd moved to the big city by herself, worked on her music, eventually caught the notice of one of the greatest cellist's in the world and created a name for herself in one of the best orchestra's in the country. Now she was First Chair in that same orchestra despite being one of its youngest members. Addison was tough, driven and precise. Yet she played with such passion and natural talent that the others could rarely keep up with her. Their relatively new maestro, who had replaced Addison's mentor two years earlier, often lamented that she wasn't a violinist like himself, which sometimes led to good-natured debates on the merits of their respective instruments.

Addison disembarked at the station nearest to the symphony, several stops away from her condominium. The symphony hall was in a busy, trendy district of downtown filled with shopping and restaurants. She made her way up to street level and paused to adjust her sharp hearing to the abrupt rise in noise level. She shifted the heavy, but comforting leather cello case so it wouldn't bang against her knee as much and began walking.

"Addison!"

She turned her head with a smile and stopped for Mikhail Lewinsky, her friend and colleague in the orchestra. She wasn't surprised to hear him rushing toward her. Mikhail was always in a rush. Like her, he preferred city transit to a car and had no doubt just disembarked from his bus. They often ran into each other on this corner. He approached on her left and gently took her elbow in his hand, which was her preference, since she needed her right hand for her cane.

"How are you today Mikhail?" she asked brightly.

The Polish man dug around in his coat pocket for something, juggling his instrument and bumping her elbow. He blew his nose loudly. "I am okay, as you see I'm not quite myself today."

Addison bit back a smile. Mikhail was never himself. He was a man of perpetual woes unless he was in the company of his extremely pious and opinionated wife, whom he happened to be very much in love with. Then he was magically all better. Mikhail also had a habit of commenting about Addison's ability to 'see' like he never noticed she was blind, which she found funny. She never corrected him.

They made their way into the back of the theatre together and followed the chatter into the rehearsal room. Addison was immediately whisked away by Erica Pennington, Maestro's assistant, for some administrative work. After half an hour of the other woman's presence, Addison had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping. She really tried, each and every time she came to work, to remind herself to be nice to this person. No one else in the orchestra bothered. The Maestro treated her like an annoying espresso-fetching squirrel-type person who was union and non-fireable, and everyone else saw her as an in-the-way, one-screw-loose kind of person that could talk for an hour without ever actually saying anything.

Addison went out of her way to try and include Erica whenever possible, especially in social situations. This had the unenviable side-effect of Erica believing they were practically BFFs and the rest of the orchestra keeping their distance when Addison's 'friend' was near.

"Erica, I have to get to my seat. I think they're about to start and I have a solo in the first movement," Addison said, trying to soften the edge she knew was present in her voice.

"Oh, of course! I just wanted to make sure you're okay with Maestro signing you up for Mrs. Channing's birthday bash." Erica rushed in, following Addison when she tried to edge away. "I know you prefer not to do these private engagements, even though they're in everyone's contracts, not that I blame you one bit! But he was pretty insistent that the old woman wanted no one else but you since she saw you in last season's show. And who can blame her, you're so beautiful and talented and..."

"Whoa!" Addison said sharply. "Thanks Erica, but I really do need to get back to the orchestra now, I won't have time to warm up. I can do the birthday party, tell Maestro it's fine."

"Oh, wonderful!" Erica clapped her hands together and seized Addison's right arm, throwing her off balance. Addison stumbled and then straightened up, annoyed. She would have pulled her arm away, but she learned ages ago that Erica wasn't easily deterred from her 'task' of leading the blind woman around like a cow.

"The birthday bash is Saturday. I'll come get you in a town car and we can go together!" Erica sounded way more excited than Addison thought was necessary. Once more she reached for patience when Erica took her hand and placed it on the back of her chair.

Addison pasted a fake grateful smile on her face. She hated being grateful to others for guiding her when it was completely unnecessary. "Thanks Erica, but I'll find my own way." She sat, turned her back and her mind away from the other woman and reached for her cello.