Mario Pianist Novels & Stories

The door clicked shut behind Luigi. I sat at the grand piano, my fingers gliding over the keys with a fluidity that eased the heavy thoughts on my mind, particularly thoughts of how to win Summer over. Each note struck a chord deep within me, a haunting melody that mirrored my internal turmoil. I took a slow sip of my whiskey, savoring the burn as the soft piano music filled the room with a peace that was as stable as a bomb on a timer, and sure enough, my phone detonated with an intrusive, insistent ring. With a subdued sigh, I answered, my voice a muted growl. “Morozovino.”

We all watched as he walked away from the pool area and back into the house through the patio doors until he was out of sight before they turned to me. “I repeat, who was that?” May ask. “My, My, he looks so edible, mind linking me up?” Shayna asks “Ewll, no, I won’t be doing that.” “Sourpuss.” She says, pouting her lips dramatically turning to the patio doors for a split second. “That’s Mario, He works as a chef here, let me tell you, his food is to die for, so many amazing dishes.” “I am sure his food is not the only thing I can die for, what a fine specimen. Did it just get hot out here?” She asked fanning herself with her hand dramatically

A low, guttural growl rumbled from Mario's throat, reverberating through the room like thunder. “Whatever you see man." The man replied, pecking my forehead. I recoiled. Before I could process what was happening, Mario was already moving. He crossed the room with the speed of a predator. The man beside me barely had time to react before Mario grabbed him and flung him against the walls like a rag doll. The man groaned weakly, but Mario wasn’t finished. Before he could even try to stand, Mario descended on him, raining punches on him.

I glanced at Emily and Madam Isabel, but they all had this knowing look that I couldn't quite fathom. "Good thing you did. I was just talking about bringing you here with Mr. Giordano, from that boy's house or wherever you were, if necessary. But here you are." I stared in disbelief as resounding steps ascended the stairs. "Mr. Giordano?" I was shocked. Why was I going to be forced to come here if I hadn't shown up? What baffled me more was the fact that they knew I was out of jail. "Hello, Moore," the extremely intimidating yet captivating voice of the man I had rejected six years ago sounded before me. His kingly aura filled the entire house. "It's good that you're back!”

The world was quiet, peaceful. Then, the sound of a guitar strumming echoed through the field. My ears perked up, and I turned around, my eyes widening. There he was. Mario, leaning against a tree with a guitar resting against his lap, fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings. His head was bowed, dark hair falling over his eyes, and then he looked up at me, his lips quirking into a playful grin. The melody was soft, a gentle, soothing tune. And then, he began to sing. His voice was deep, rough in the best way, and as he sang, his eyes never left mine.

"He said it is like when two musicians are playing together and one of them finally finds the right key. It was always going to sound like that. It just needed the other person to show up." I sit with this for a long moment. Kai at the counter, carefully stirring his pot, silver steady and unhurried on his nails. The most extraordinary child I have ever known, explaining his own internal experience through a musical metaphor at seven years old, which is the most Kai thing he has ever done and also exactly right. "He is going to be fine," Marco says. Not as comfort. As observation. "Yes," I say. "He is."

It was her friend, the one who came to see Richard sing. Mario: Come to the VIP, I like him but let's talk first. *** Jennifer's P.O.V *** I made my way to find Mario, he's one of the best producers, he was a singer but not anymore, he decided to just produce. I found him upstairs, he had a clear view of the stage, he was surrounded by a few people, a bottle of vodka in the middle of the table with a bunch of glasses filled with ice and liquor. It was so stereotypical that it made the image funny. I greeted them all and sat next to Mario, he's from Puerto Rico and has produced a lot of latino artists.

Lucian noticed the brief struggle that flashed across Marisol's face, but he merely smiled. "I like it, and I'm quite good at it too. Let me teach you." With that, he pulled the young woman onto his lap. His large hands enveloped hers as he pressed them against the black and white keys. Her hands trembled slightly. She wanted to pull away, but he forcibly guided her fingers, pressing key after key as broken, familiar melodies rang out. Marisol vaguely remembered someone once playing for her, and her eyes began to burn with unshed tears.

The background music was 'Love not War' by Jason Derulo ft Nuka. The song was really getting everyone dancing so hard and I found myself dancing to it as well. Mario on his part was a good dancer, his moves were so extra ordinary that I almost wanted to give up dancing with him. He twirls me around and let go of my hand and did a freestyle. My grins widen and I didn't realize when I started clapping for him while he dances. Before I knew it people were clapping with me and they've formed a circle round us.

" That was the most beautiful plays I've heard in years. How did you do it?" I hid a grin. Me that thought I was playing rubbish. I wanted to tell her the truth, that I just listened to #Zlantan music from my earpod while I was playing. All I could hear were Ayiiiii, chairman, gbese and Zanku. I never could understand what that guy was singing. Instead I lied. " I was once a piano student." " You've got a lot to learn," she heard glasses and bottles in front of her. " I can teach you. With a little practice, you'll be perfect."