Mr. Lopez was alone when I was ushered into his private office. He faced that view over the coast but my chair had its back to all that.
‘‘I want you and your girlfriend to play, she probably told you that.’’ He lit a cigar. ‘‘Did she tell you the rest?’’
‘‘Nothing else,’’ I said. ‘‘What else?’’
‘‘I want you to be identically dressed, like my girls,’’ he said. ‘‘I want you to be the same as her.’’
‘‘I don’t think I want to do that.’’
‘‘You want to keep playing your piano, don’t you?’’
‘‘Of course.’’
‘‘You’re a great piano player.’’
‘‘It’s very kind of you to say that.’’
‘‘If your hands were accidentally damaged, you wouldn’t be able to play.’’ He smiled. ‘‘And, sadly, if you don’t want to do the things I’m asking, I couldn’t be sure that you could be protected from an accident.’’
‘‘Is that a threat?’’
‘‘Of course not.’’ He puffed away on the cigar. ‘‘It’s an opportunity I’m offering you; a great opportunity. All you have to do it show me that you want to take
advantage of my offer.’’
‘‘I think I understand,’’ I replied, feeling more than a little fear of this man so polite and yet so evil.
‘‘I wouldn’t want you to have an accident.’’ He leered as if to emphasis his point.
‘‘I’m sure…’’ I couldn’t finish the sentence; I was really afraid.
‘‘I’ll be arranging a few appointments for you,’’ he said. ‘‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy it all. Make sure you go to them all and do whatever they tell you.’’