Shot Wide
Two
“Can you please shut whatever it is making that noise up?” Patrick fumed at me.
“Excuse me?” I looked back at him in shock. It was my first week in Chicago, and Chrissy, the owner of the building said that people would be fine with my music.
“Stop with the noise. It's seriously bugging the shit out of me.” I was not going to take this shit. Especially from him, someone who thinks he's better than me.
“Hockey is your thing, music is mine. So I suggest you stop bitching about my music, where do you live anyways?” I hissed back at him, using every ounce of venom in my body.
“Next door, condo 31. Now if you don't mind.” He turned his back when I shouted, “Only if you stop slamming your door at 5:30AM, or you have all of the girls stop doing it.”
He glared at me and said, “you don't know what your talking about, and you never will. Now shut up, and go 'practice' in silence.” He went back into his room, and I heard his door slam with force. What an ass. Nothing like the Patrick Kane the media attracts.
I slammed my door also, and went back to my oboe, where my professor just looked at the screen and laughed, apparently, she heard everything that just happened. I glared at her, getting my oboe off of it's stand, and played a quiet piano, so I wouldn't bother Sleeping Beauty. I flew through the song, and she said, “that was fantastic, even for sight reading, and playing at an extremely quiet piano. Work more on not articulating legato notes so much, and it will have a longer flow to it. I think you may be ready for an audition pretty soon!”
I smiled and replied, “thank you! If I can live with this jerkoff next to me, I will be ready for anything. I will call you tomorrow, and have you listen to the progress.” My professor smiled at me, and ended the face time call. I turned back to my music, and practiced long tones, and working on making everything legato before looking at Carmen again.
There was another knock on my door, and I went over, oboe in tow to see who it was. As I opened the door, I saw Corey Crawford standing at my door. I gave him a slightly confused look and said, “can I help you?”
He sheepishly looked at me and replied, “um, I think I have the wrong room. Sorry.” He went to turn away when I said, “are you looking for Patrick Kane. He's one down to the right, and he's in a god-awful mood.”
Corey turned back around and said, “thank you, so I assume you know who I am.”
I blushed and said, “I'm a 'hawks fan, so yep.”
“Oh, well thank you for the direction, and for being a 'hawks fan.”
“Anytime.”
With that, he turned to Patrick's door, and I went back into my music room, practicing away at Carmen, until my lips felt like they were going to fall completely off. I decided to call it quits for the day, feeling an improvement in my tone. I took great care in taking care of my wood instrument, when I heard banging on my wall, directly above my piano. I ignored it, and went back to what I was doing. I went to my Mac, and worked on my thesis paper on Clare Grundman for a good two hours when the banging started again, and would not stop. It was consistent for a good three minutes, when I finally had had enough. I got up, and walked out of my door, and over to Patrick Kane's.
I gently knocked on the door, and Patrick answered after a minute of me standing there like a complete idiot. “What do you want? He spat at me.
“Can you please stop with the banging on the wall. I am working on a thesis paper, and I can't concentrate with the wall banging.” I just stood there in my UVM sweats and tank top, hoping that he would say yes so I could get back to my paper.
“I'm sorry. We were going over stick bangs for the game. I guess you will have to get used to it.” With that, he closed the door in my face, and I gave a shocked face to the door, and went back to my study where I attempted to finish my thesis.
I knew that the only wall space that we shared was in a storage closet in Patricks condo, so I was just going to ignore it. He can be an ass all he wants. Its not going to affect me!
I gave up, and decided to go out for the night, and get some new reeds for my saxophones. I changed into a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, and high boots, with a tight Blackhawk's long sleeved tee shirt. I took my blonde hair down from it's messy bun, ran a brush through it and proceeded to my door.
Grabbing my car keys and wallet, I walked out of my condo, and walked to the elevator to go down to the parking garage. Lucky for me, Corey and Patrick were waiting for the elevator also, so I silently waited with them, making sure that my phone was on silence, so I would not have that as a distraction while I was driving through crazy down town Chi-town.
“You can actually clean up when your not making annoying noise.”
I looked at Patrick with confusion on my face, and I wondered why in the hell he was talking to me, if I bothered him so much. “Um, thanks. I think.” I mumbled the last part, but I knew that he heard me. And I didn't care that he did hear it.
“Do you go out much?” Corey shyly asked me from the corner of the hall.
“Sometimes? Ha, music takes a lot of my time, and it's not easy music that I am working with.”
Patrick looked up and said, “see, geeks don't party Corey. Tell ya what, your invited to my housewarming party tonight. Maybe I'll see you tonight. If not, sucks for you.”
“Excuse me?” I looked back at him in shock. It was my first week in Chicago, and Chrissy, the owner of the building said that people would be fine with my music.
“Stop with the noise. It's seriously bugging the shit out of me.” I was not going to take this shit. Especially from him, someone who thinks he's better than me.
“Hockey is your thing, music is mine. So I suggest you stop bitching about my music, where do you live anyways?” I hissed back at him, using every ounce of venom in my body.
“Next door, condo 31. Now if you don't mind.” He turned his back when I shouted, “Only if you stop slamming your door at 5:30AM, or you have all of the girls stop doing it.”
He glared at me and said, “you don't know what your talking about, and you never will. Now shut up, and go 'practice' in silence.” He went back into his room, and I heard his door slam with force. What an ass. Nothing like the Patrick Kane the media attracts.
I slammed my door also, and went back to my oboe, where my professor just looked at the screen and laughed, apparently, she heard everything that just happened. I glared at her, getting my oboe off of it's stand, and played a quiet piano, so I wouldn't bother Sleeping Beauty. I flew through the song, and she said, “that was fantastic, even for sight reading, and playing at an extremely quiet piano. Work more on not articulating legato notes so much, and it will have a longer flow to it. I think you may be ready for an audition pretty soon!”
I smiled and replied, “thank you! If I can live with this jerkoff next to me, I will be ready for anything. I will call you tomorrow, and have you listen to the progress.” My professor smiled at me, and ended the face time call. I turned back to my music, and practiced long tones, and working on making everything legato before looking at Carmen again.
There was another knock on my door, and I went over, oboe in tow to see who it was. As I opened the door, I saw Corey Crawford standing at my door. I gave him a slightly confused look and said, “can I help you?”
He sheepishly looked at me and replied, “um, I think I have the wrong room. Sorry.” He went to turn away when I said, “are you looking for Patrick Kane. He's one down to the right, and he's in a god-awful mood.”
Corey turned back around and said, “thank you, so I assume you know who I am.”
I blushed and said, “I'm a 'hawks fan, so yep.”
“Oh, well thank you for the direction, and for being a 'hawks fan.”
“Anytime.”
With that, he turned to Patrick's door, and I went back into my music room, practicing away at Carmen, until my lips felt like they were going to fall completely off. I decided to call it quits for the day, feeling an improvement in my tone. I took great care in taking care of my wood instrument, when I heard banging on my wall, directly above my piano. I ignored it, and went back to what I was doing. I went to my Mac, and worked on my thesis paper on Clare Grundman for a good two hours when the banging started again, and would not stop. It was consistent for a good three minutes, when I finally had had enough. I got up, and walked out of my door, and over to Patrick Kane's.
I gently knocked on the door, and Patrick answered after a minute of me standing there like a complete idiot. “What do you want? He spat at me.
“Can you please stop with the banging on the wall. I am working on a thesis paper, and I can't concentrate with the wall banging.” I just stood there in my UVM sweats and tank top, hoping that he would say yes so I could get back to my paper.
“I'm sorry. We were going over stick bangs for the game. I guess you will have to get used to it.” With that, he closed the door in my face, and I gave a shocked face to the door, and went back to my study where I attempted to finish my thesis.
I knew that the only wall space that we shared was in a storage closet in Patricks condo, so I was just going to ignore it. He can be an ass all he wants. Its not going to affect me!
I gave up, and decided to go out for the night, and get some new reeds for my saxophones. I changed into a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, and high boots, with a tight Blackhawk's long sleeved tee shirt. I took my blonde hair down from it's messy bun, ran a brush through it and proceeded to my door.
Grabbing my car keys and wallet, I walked out of my condo, and walked to the elevator to go down to the parking garage. Lucky for me, Corey and Patrick were waiting for the elevator also, so I silently waited with them, making sure that my phone was on silence, so I would not have that as a distraction while I was driving through crazy down town Chi-town.
“You can actually clean up when your not making annoying noise.”
I looked at Patrick with confusion on my face, and I wondered why in the hell he was talking to me, if I bothered him so much. “Um, thanks. I think.” I mumbled the last part, but I knew that he heard me. And I didn't care that he did hear it.
“Do you go out much?” Corey shyly asked me from the corner of the hall.
“Sometimes? Ha, music takes a lot of my time, and it's not easy music that I am working with.”
Patrick looked up and said, “see, geeks don't party Corey. Tell ya what, your invited to my housewarming party tonight. Maybe I'll see you tonight. If not, sucks for you.”