Dick made one final parting shot. “We may want you, but don’t get confused, we don’t need you.”
I nodded once before heading out to my motorcycle. They weren’t wrong. My past was catching up with me. But in that moment, I couldn’t have said anything else. I physically couldn’t find the words. Better to let my mask speak for me. I got on my motorcycle and kicked it to life.
I was only back in Knoxville to prove myself. I’d leave this place as soon as a better offer came. For now, I had to stick through to the end. The SOOK would improve and I would conduct them. I would make that happen.
Kim Dae would help make that happen.
Chapter 4
End phrases with intention.
KIM
Sometimes throughout the season the SOOK had performances for the investors, board of directors, or other VIPs from the community. They were typically smaller affairs, made of about one hundred super wealthy people eating an overpriced dinner while we performed like wind-up monkeys clapping symbols. It wasn’t all bad—sometimes the caterers let us eat the leftovers. Tonight was one of those nights. The SOOK was performing a short showcase featuring a few key soloists, including Carla. We were meeting for a short final rehearsal two hours before the show, dressed in our typical black-tie performance outfits. My black slacks were starched stiff and my silk top trapped in the heat.
Actually, now that I looked around the room, I realized that Carla was late. Bad night to throw a tantrum. She had a habit of making a grand (read: late) entrance if somebody offended her, which happened roughly once a month. This didn’t seem like the best way to prove a point to the Devil of the Symphony. Especially not at the last rehearsal before a high-stakes show. Tonight was a dinner performance where we all but begged for money from the Tennessee elite. Old money, new money—it didn’t matter so long as it was big money.
Devlin stomped up to the podium. He always seemed to stomp places, like he wanted to give everybody plenty of time to stop talking about him. As always, he wore all black, matching the rest of us. Instead of a skull scarf, he wore a solid black one made out of shinier material. His closet likely consisted of nothing but perfectly folded face scarves, all different colors, sizes, and patterns. His baseball hat had been upgraded to a velvet trilby hat. Once again, instead of looking hokey and gauche, the overall effect was jaw-droppingly alluring.
Immediately all shuffling and talking stopped. Devlin was allowed to roll in the minute rehearsal started but we all learned early on that we needed to be ready, in our seats, instruments tuned and in position, because the moment he stepped on that podium he would lift his baton and tell us exactly where we were starting with absolutely no preamble or “hello, how is everyone?” A little small talk never hurt nobody, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
His eyes flicked to Carla’s seat. He didn’t react in any sort of way. What did that mean? He pulled his baton from his coat jacket like it was Harry Potter’s wand, but instead of lifting it into the air, he held it low with both hands.
He cleared his throat and spoke. “There’s been a change to the program tonight. Carla Firmin is out for the next few days and cannot perform her solo this evening.”
My gaze shot to Erin who mouthed “whoa” and my eyes widened in agreement. Carla was many things, but she never missed an opportunity to show off.
He looked to Barry. “Are you prepared to step in?”
“I haven’t—I don’t know the solo,” a very pale Barry stuttered out.
Devlin’s eyes narrowed. “That’s disappointing.” He looked to the rest of the cellos.
We shrugged and looked from one to the other. The murmurs grew louder around us as I sunk lower into the seat and slowly tried to make myself disappear. Of all the nights. Of all the solos. I refused to look at Erin. If I could fold myself up and slip into my F-hole I would. And that was not a euphemism.
“Maestro,” a voice called out. “Christine Day can do it,” Erin continued over the rising murmurs of shock. My eyes went wide and my face flamed.
“Christine? The fourth chair?” somebody to the left of me said. Mumbled speculation surrounded me, but I was too focused on not moving even an inch. If I didn’t move at all, maybe I’d disappear. I had reverted to toddler logic. Someone nudged my arm. I stared unseeing forward. This could not be happening.
“Ms. Day?” Devlin asked, his rich voice flat. I couldn’t tell if he was disgusted or amused at the suggestion.
“She’s played the solo before,” Erin said, and the world spun around me in a blur. “She’s been well taught.”
“I’ve heard her play it too,” Barry jumped in.
How convenient for you, Barry.
They were right. I was a classically trained musician. I had been accepted to Juilliard. I was not some meek wallflower with no talent. But this? I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want the solo. Where was Carla, of all the days? I couldn’t look at anybody else in the room. Devlin studied me with an unreadable expression.
“Is that true?” he asked.
If this were a cartoon, there’d be an audible “gulp” sound from me right about now. I took a deep steadying breath. “Yes. A long time ago. I haven’t played it since—”
“She was practicing it last night,” Erin interrupted, sending her straight to the top of my dead-to-me list.
I tilted my head to more accurately to send my death stare her way. Okay, so I had been practicing it late at night after everybody left. The third movement of Brahm’s Piano Concerto No. 2 contained a beautiful solo that was sentimental to me. That didn’t exempt Erin from my wrath though. Oh no, she was so not getting a banana cake from Donner Bakery this birthday. She’d be lucky if I made her a card. Store bought cards from here on out.
“Let’s play through. I want to hear if you’re qualified,” Devlin said.
“Yes, Maestro.”
Around me, the symphony moved into the ready position. Devlin didn’t pick up his baton.
“You’ll need to move,” he said coolly, as his gaze flicked to the empty first chair.
Amazingly, my legs supported me despite how badly my knees tingled. The neck of my cello was tightly gripped in my fist like it was the only thing keeping me from spinning off the earth.
“We will start from the Andante movement,” he called out as I got situated.
Next to me Barry gave me a brief nod of encouragement. I managed a small smile back. Playing alone at night was a heck of a lot different than feeling an entire symphony watch you. I wiped my palms on my dress pants before straightening my spine.
My nerves were shredded. I did this for a living and yet I couldn’t get my bow to stop wobbling where it hovered just above the strings. My heart sputtered and cranked to a manic tempo. Carla should be here. What if something happened to her? The world began to tune out around me. Tears pricked behind my eyes. How ridiculous was that? I played with these people every day, but if I tried to speak or breathe or move, I’d start to cry.
“Hey.” Devlin’s voice was so soft I hardly noticed it at first. His biker boots appeared in front of my blurring vision. “Christine?”
I lifted my chin to find him standing in front of me with a furrowed brow. “Is she okay?” The question just slipped out, but I needed to know.
He dropped into a crouch to better hear me, causing me to pick up soft hints of cologne, fabric softener, and motorcycle exhaust. “What?”
I asked again a little louder but likely only Barry would be able to hear, if that.
His face was impassive like he was processing what I said. “Who? Carla?”
I nodded stiffly.
“Family emergency. She’ll be back on Monday,” he spoke softly.
“Oh.” A weight lifted from my shoulders.
My chest rose as I took a deep breath in. I released it slowly. Surely the entire room was waiting to see what my deal was.
“I appreciate you stepping in for her.” He lifted his chin to get me to look into his eyes. “I’m
sure she would appreciate it too.”
I doubted that, but at least I wasn’t taking the performance from her. I was helping the orchestra out. I could absolutely do this. My thoughts had me worrying my bottom lip.
His focus lowered to my lips then quickly to where my hand gripped the shoulder of my cello. He cleared his throat. “Are you ready?”
I swallowed down my irrational fears. Carla was fine. It was just one show. I could do this. I got into position in answer to his question. Those dark eyes flitted around my face as though checking to see if I really was ready.
“All you need to do is watch me.” When he spoke his mask hardly moved; nobody would know he’d spoken at all. My gaze was locked on his as it smoldered with intensity. “It’s you and me.”
As though I could look anywhere else. When he gave me his focus, the rest of the room faded away. The rest of the world.
“Ready?” he asked.
I forced my shoulders down. He got back onto the podium and I lifted my bow to wait for my solo entrance as he counted the rest of the orchestra in. The notes on the page transformed into a foreign language. The music quieted, signifying my entrance. I drew my bow along the string, but my tense arm caused a noticeable wobble. A wave of heat burned up my neck, a flush likely giving me away. Just when I thought I might lose total control, I remembered his directions. I looked to him.
His arm conducted the rest of the orchestra smoothly as they played their soft accompaniment, but his head was turned to me. He was willing me to look at him. His eyes narrowed when mine finally met his. He nodded his chin subtly. I didn’t need to read the music. I knew this solo in my sleep. Instead, I kept my focus on him. I played. Everything else blurred into the background. The music came then. It flowed through me.
It was just us and the beautiful music.
Chapter 5
Don’t just play the notes, bleed them.
DEVLIN
Watch me.
Christine Day led the rest of the cellos on stage. With her shoulders back and chin lifted, the small audience gathered behind me might think she did this every day. She showed hidden courage in the face of this last-minute switch up, but underneath her cool facade, her color was off and there was a tense set to her jaw.
Just watch me, I willed.
Our gazes clashed. Each time they did, a bolt of awareness shot through my body. By the end of the pre-show rehearsal today I was jittery with adrenaline. She had watched me the whole time. Now as she settled into first chair, she preferred to look at me rather than the hushed commentary of the onlookers.
“Who is that?” someone whispered behind my back.
“Not sure,” another replied. “Where’s Carla?”
When Carla hadn’t shown up, I’d thought my first donor dinner show would be a dismal flop. The second chair looked like he was going to lose his lunch when asked to perform. If not for Kim, who knows what the board of directors would have thought. Carla’s sudden absence felt like another blow to my short career with the SOOK. So much rested on Kim stepping up, but I worried she might shy away from taking the lead like Barry had. Her reticence was written all over her ghostly-white face. She’d shocked me by asking first if Carla was okay and then after only a few moments of hesitation, she’d played the solo almost perfectly.
Now, here she sat, feigning confidence as the audience waited expectantly for us to begin.
“Thank you all for coming today.” I addressed the room speaking loudly so my words were not muffled through the mask. Several of the onlookers raised eyebrows at my appearance but I was used to it. I kept my voice low and commanding, but damn I hated this part. “There has been a small change to the program. Christine Day will be performing the solo in the third movement of Brahm’s Piano Concerto No. 2. Now, please enjoy your dinners as the Symphonic Orchestra of Knoxville performs for you, our most honored guests.”
The room clapped politely as I turned back to my musicians. I took a moment to steady my hands before I lifted the baton.
Despite my worries that there would be another small act of rebellion, the symphony performed well. The first two movements went without a hitch, but I could feel Kim’s nerves grow with every passing measure. As the third movement began, a red flush began to spread up the pale column of her neck. The symphony wound down for her solo. Forks stopped clattering against plates, voices dropped off. All the eyes in the room went straight to her.
Kim took a deep breath in as she lifted her bow to begin. Her gaze found mine and, just like in rehearsal, they remained locked there. Though slightly nervous at first, her confidence grew with each note. Her body swayed with her performance.
A swift check on the audience found they all shared looks of wide-eyed wonder at this new soloist. How could they not? Of course, she was beautiful, but that was the least interesting thing about her. The moment her bow pulled across the strings, her soul was expressed. She couldn’t help it. Her zeal for life floated along with the notes and filled every inch of the room.
She took direction perfectly. I hardly needed to lead. She read my cues, feeling instinctually, when I slowed her down or sped her up. When our eyes would lock, my heartbeat would stutter and I was never so grateful to have my face covered. Otherwise, she’d see all the things I felt too soon. We had time for that later.
A dark lock of hair had come loose from her tight bun as she rocked with the music. She blew it out of her face before it stubbornly came back to fall in the same place. She let it be. A small smile tugged her mouth after she nailed a particularly difficult slide. The power in those delicate fingers as they flew into fifth position was astounding. Her face was sharpened with focus, her mouth forming shapes with the music. Her brows arched and flattened in turn.
Still, I sensed she’d held back. This was not the languid passion I had seen when I’d watched her play at night by herself. There was a stiffness to her that wasn’t there before. Something had caused her to change from the Kim Dae I knew from the past to the muted Christine Day of today. Our rehearsals together would have to focus on that, fix whatever it was that prevented her from giving in fully. Even still. With only a spark of the fire I knew she possessed, she lit up the room.
When she opened her eyes again, they returned to me. I smiled knowing it was safely unseen behind the bandana. I hoped she felt a fraction of the pride blazing in my chest right now. I was proud for her, even if she would be too modest to accept her talents.
The movement ended with her solo and the room exploded into applause. Chairs pushed back from their tables and cries of “bravo” filled the room. My focus remained on her as long as it could, watching her take the praise with grace but not faux humility. She nailed that and she was proud of herself. Her smile lit up the room.
This.
This was exactly what I wanted. She would be the key to my success at the SOOK. She was my angel of music. Now I just had to convince her.
Chapter 6
Respect your body and the demands upon it. Commit or quit.
KIM
After a round of thunderous applause, all the musicians went backstage. The smile planted on my face was hollow. I had performed well and it had been fine, but the applause scared me. As soon as I’d started to enjoy the feeling of the performance, a different sort of anxiety had creeped in. The standing ovations and accolades from my peers felt unwarranted and excessive. I hadn’t earned this. But I smiled and took the compliments. Carla’s reaction still weighed on the back of my mind. Hopefully, we could all forget about this and go back to normal when she returned.
What had Devlin thought? Had he noticed the hyper-extension? Or the over-correction right after? Had he heard the wobble of my bow? His face had been unreadable throughout the whole performance, as usual. His eyes had been focused in concentration and his strong build filled with tension as he led us. At one point, it had almost seemed like his eyes had held a smile. Which was crazy, really. The Devil didn’t smile. That was the nice part about not seeing his wh
ole face at once. I could really tell myself that he was smiling and there was no substantive proof to tell me otherwise.
“Where have you been hiding?” Erin ran up to me and squeezed my hands.
I laughed and hugged her. We were both slightly damp from the performance, but who cared? She beamed and so did I.
“It was nothing,” I said.
“A new tutor?” she asked with a glint in her eye.
“No, no.” Devlin still hadn’t brought up whether I planned to work with him, and I was grateful. I understood what an opportunity this was, but a larger part worried about the fallout. It would lead to attention and other … The other scared me.
“Well, you were fantastic. There’s my mom—I need to go talk to her.” We hugged again and Erin was off.
“You were too,” I called after her.
My stomach growled loud enough to be heard over the excited chatter around me. Now it was time for food and water. I’d spent the whole day with pre-show jitters at a whole new level due to the unexpected solo. As the adrenaline wore off, my body shook with hunger. My parents had shot me big grins and thumbs ups from their seats near the front after the performance. While they were artists, they weren’t musicians, so they would only ever notice a mistake if it was major.
I skulked around the backstage hoping to see a snack table or a friendly-looking waiter. Somewhere there was a whole catering area set up for the meal up front, but I would be fine with a vending machine at this point. The old back hallways smelled faintly of mildew and memories.
Eureka! Far down an old hallway near a rattling water fountain stood a well-stocked vending machine. I tapped my lip. Cookies, or something with a little more substance? Why not both? The emergency dollar I kept stashed in my bra was almost in the slot when a man’s voice cut through the back area.
The Treble With Men Page 3
