There were excited whispers in the audience as Claire and her partner raced off the stage. They would sing from the wings while the rest of the choir performed the new number. The remaining twelve members hit their marks, the band started, and away they went.
Devlyn was right. There were things that needed to be fixed: a hand position here, an awkward crossover there. Each lift made my heart stop. Each lift made my heart soar. And while Megan had a slightly better sound for the solo, Jamie’s voice was strong and compelling as she belted out the words. I’d watched enough YouTube show choir competition videos to know my group would score well this year. With a few final touches, this group had a chance to win. When I’d started this job, I’d told myself I’d be done with it long before those competitions ever took place. Only, I’d changed my mind. I wanted to be there. I wanted to see this choir compete. I wanted to help them win. Then I could move on.
As the last number started, I couldn’t help doing a victory jig as Chessie’s voice soared over the ensemble. The kids did it. They learned the new number. They had the crowd cheering for more. I was going to keep my job.
The kid on drums wailed away. The boys flipped the girls in a somersault over their arms, and the girls landed on their feet.
And that’s when it happened. One of the guys bumped his partner, who had not completely regained her balance. She threw out an arm to steady herself and clipped Eric. He turned to look for whatever struck him and lowered his arm a fraction of an inch. That was all it took. Chessie spun toward him, leaned back to where his arms were supposed to catch her, and found his arms weren’t where she expected them to be. Her eyes widened. Her smile disappeared. A moment later Chessie’s backside and what was left of my career hit the ground with a thud.
Chapter 16
Eric helped Chessie to her feet. The choir kept singing and dancing. Everyone executed the final lift and hit the last pose with huge smiles. The crowd went wild as my students lined up to take a bow. The applause continued even when the other choral students climbed onto the stage to sing the final group song.
Larry waved his arms. The kids sang. Larry turned and indicated the audience should sing along. Most did or at least pretended to. I couldn’t. Sound couldn’t squeak past the tears in my throat—tears I would never let fall. Not here. Not in front of the school board, who only cared about getting a trophy in the spring. When they fired me, my eyes would be dry. As far as consolation prizes went, it wasn’t much, but beggars really couldn’t be choosers.
Applause signaled the end of the concert. The houselights flickered to life. The choirs left the stage as parents and friends stood up from their seats. Larry was mobbed at the foot of the stage stairs by audience members wanting to talk about the performance. I spotted Devlyn standing about halfway up a side aisle near an exit door. He was smiling and nodding as he chatted with students and adults. I should be doing the same, but I couldn’t get my feet to move.
“You realize I missed the game because I had to come here, right?” Mike leaned against the back wall of the auditorium with his arms crossed over his chest. “But the show was pretty good, if you go for this kind of thing.”
I studied Mike’s face to see if he was snowing me. Both Devlyn and Mike were hard to read. Devlyn with the whole acting thing and Mike with his cop face. But instead of the flat eyes and expressionless stare, Mike was smiling. My heart lifted. Maybe I was overreacting. I mean, if a guy like Mike enjoyed the show, maybe the school board did, too.
“I’m glad you enjoyed the performance.”
Mike’s grin grew wider. “The girl falling to the ground was almost as good as watching one of the Bulls’ forwards clothesline an opposing point guard.”
I sighed. So much for holding out hope.
Mike didn’t seem to notice my dejection as he continued, “The girl who fell has moxie. She got up and kept smiling. You gotta admire someone who keeps going after taking a hit.”
He was right. Chessie got knocked down, got back up, and finished strong. Could I do any less? Straightening my shoulders, I said, “I have to do the meet-and-greet thing with the parents. Are you going to stick around?”
“Unless dispatch calls, I’m all yours. Consider me your personal bodyguard.” He sauntered closer and whispered, “If you feel like taking advantage of my body in the process, so much the better.”
I made sure Mike saw my exaggerated eye roll before I plastered a smile on my face and headed into the crowd. Small talk wasn’t my forte on a good day. Neither was remembering names, although I was pretty good at faces. Larry excelled at both names and inane conversation. Not only did he remember which parents went with which of his 150 students, he also remembered the names of the students’ siblings, the parents’ jobs, and a bunch of other useless trivia. While that information would never land him behind the winner’s podium on Jeopardy!, it made him look brilliant during these after-concert moments. Me—well, at least I only had fourteen sets of parents to remember. How hard could that be?
“Ms. Marshall!” A tall, unfamiliar-looking woman with unnaturally crimson hair that matched her lipstick waved her hands over her head. Either she was attempting to land planes at O’Hare or she wanted my attention. “My husband and I wanted to tell you what a wonderful job you’ve done with Music in Motion. My daughter is hoping to make your group next year.”
I sighed with relief. This wasn’t a parent of one of my current students. “Thank you. I look forward to seeing your daughter audition in the spring.”
Thinking the conversation was over, I started to turn only to hear, “I’m certain she’d give a stronger audition if she had someone like you working with her on a private basis.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Some voice teachers worked well with some kids and failed to connect with others. Finding the right fit wasn’t always easy. I avoided the kids with huge egos—like Chessie. She had lots of talent but didn’t take instruction well. And while she didn’t mind practice, she wanted to practice the stuff she liked instead of the music her teacher assigned. Since I had no idea who this woman’s kid was, I had no clue whether the two of us would work well together.
“I only accept a small number of students,” I explained. “Currently, all my time slots are filled, but I know Mr. DeWeese has a list of voice teachers from the area he recommends.”
The woman’s bright red smile disappeared. “My husband and I strongly believe our daughter deserves the very best chance at achieving her goals. If taking lessons with you will help her, we’re willing to do what it takes to make that happen.”
I glanced at the slightly glassy-eyed husband. He had his hands jammed in his pockets and was staring at the ground in a way that implied a shoe fetish or a strong desire to stay out of this conversation. If only I had that option.
“I’d be happy to add your daughter’s name to the waiting list in case a time slot opens up. In the meantime—”
“I don’t think you understand. We want her to start as soon as possible.” The woman dug into her purse and handed me a business card with her phone number. “Money is no object.”
“You know, I see your aunt over there.” Mike put his arm around me and smiled at the stage mom from hell. “If you’ll excuse us, Paige and I need to say hello.”
I tried to shrug off Mike’s arm, but he just squeezed tighter and led me away. With the grip he had on me, I found it impossible to move my arms. Which was probably Mike’s intent, though I’d never hit the woman. I noticed my hands clenched tight at my sides. Okay, maybe my subconscious wanted to take a swing. Her insinuating that this was an academic version of The Price Is Right where the correct bid would get her kid on stage pissed me off.
We reached Millie and Aldo. I was thankful Chessie’s parents had abandoned their seats post-concert. It was easier to pretend I wasn’t about to be fired if the firing hadn’t happened yet.
“So what did you think?�
�� I asked.
Millie beamed. “I think it’s wonderful you and Mike have decided to make a go of it.”
Drat. I’d forgotten Mike’s arm was still wrapped around me. Maybe because in some strange way it felt kind of like it belonged there?
Shaking off both Mike’s arm and the disturbing thought, I said, “Mike and I aren’t dating.”
“Then why is Mike here?”
Good question. One I wasn’t about to give an honest answer to. Not while students and parents were within earshot. Mass hysteria wasn’t on my agenda.
Before I could come up with a suitable lie, Mike said, “Paige wouldn’t go on a date with me. Not unless I proved I could sit through an entire concert without pretending to get a call from the station.”
My aunt’s eyes twinkled behind her glasses. “He’s still here.”
Everyone looked at me and waited.
“I said I might go on a date with him. Might.” I might also strangle Mike the minute we got out of here.
“Mike did his part. The least you can do is let him take you on the date you promised.” My aunt gave me the Look. The look never failed to stymie the client and bring in the sale. It also never failed to make me feel like a schmuck for even thinking of defying Millie’s wishes.
While Millie knew Devlyn and I were doing the pre-dating dance, she wanted Mike to take the title of boyfriend. They’d bonded over gun chat a couple months ago. For some reason, Millie translated shooting ability into good boyfriend material. In business, Millie’s judgment was dead on. In matchmaking, she was batting zero.
Mike raised an eyebrow as he watched me squirm. He was enjoying the show. Mike was a jerk.
Millie gave another disappointed frown, and I caved. “Okay. I’ll go on a date with Mike, but only after the Messiah closes.”
“That’s fantastic.” Millie clapped her hands together. “Which reminds me. Mike, do you already have a ticket for the Messiah? I hear they’ve sold out.”
Mike’s grin disappeared as the Look was directed squarely at him. “I don’t.” He shifted his feet. “I didn’t realize tickets would be in such demand. You have no idea how disappointed I am that I’ll miss it.”
“Of course you’d be disappointed.” Millie patted Mike on the shoulder. “That’s why you’ll be sitting with us Saturday night. Aldo bought an extra ticket for a friend of ours. She told us today that she won’t be able to make it. That means her ticket for the dinner and concert package are all yours.”
“Does the concert happen during dinner?” Mike pulled at the collar of his shirt.
Millie laughed. “Of course not. There’s a special dinner before the concert at one of my favorite Italian restaurants. During dinner, there will be a lecture on George Fredrick Handel and the creation of the Messiah. Learning about the music will help us better appreciate it when the concert begins. Aldo and I will pick you up at four thirty. We have to get there early if we want a table close to the lecturer.”
For the first time since I’d met him, Mike was speechless. Probably because men with guns weren’t used to being steamrolled. As far as I was concerned, going on a date with him was a small price to pay for the joy of this moment.
A parent bumped Mike from behind, which jarred him out of his stunned state. Straightening his shoulders, Mike said, “This all sounds great, but I should probably drive separate. You know—just in case I get a call from the station.”
Millie smiled. “I do know, which is why I plan on calling Commander Stringer and asking him to give you the night off. The commander’s wife is addicted to Mary Kay products. I slip her a few extra samples every month to help keep the cost down.”
“My Millie believes in supporting law enforcement,” Aldo announced. “Their salaries aren’t good enough for the risks they take.”
While that sounded good, Aldo had it wrong. Aunt Millie wasn’t looking to help cops keep their hard-earned cash. She cut Commander Stringer a break to keep her driving record clean. Years ago, the two had come to an understanding: If Millie kept Commander Stringer’s wife supplied with free products, he would wave his magic policeman wand over her speeding tickets and make them disappear. My single status must really have Millie worried if she was willing to trade in her speeding-for-free card for Mike’s presence at my show.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Larry trying to flag me down. He probably had news about my job . . . or lack thereof. Excusing myself, I left Mike in Millie’s and Aldo’s capable hands, pretended I never saw Larry, and headed in the opposite direction. Yep—I was a coward. Sue me.
I shook hands, made small talk, and smiled so much that the corners of my mouth started to spasm. Parents offered compliments. Students said thanks. The only one who came close to mentioning Chessie’s show-stopping moment was a little boy with chocolate smeared across his upper lip. From his height and the Thomas the Train shirt, I was guessing the kid clocked in at around five years old. While his parents complimented the soloists, the kid quipped, “Yeah, the one who fell on her butt was really great,” and promptly had a large piece of chocolate shoved into his mouth by mom. The kid’s smile as he chewed said he’d made the comment in order to get the treat. The kid was no dummy.
Twenty minutes later, Millie and Aldo had waved good-bye, Mike was nowhere to be seen, and the majority of the audience had gone home. Only students going to an after-concert party at Denny’s and a few die-hard choir boosters were left. And, of course, members of the school board. They were huddled in the back left corner of the auditorium. No doubt discussing my fate.
Panic broke through the wall of calm I’d erected. My hands began to shake. My throat went dry. It was only a job, I told myself. Too bad that didn’t make me feel any better.
Since waiting for the ax to fall was zero fun, I opted to take action. My plan consisted of two parts. First—get a drink of water. Once I was hydrated, I’d walk up those steps and demand to know whether I still had a job.
Since a bunch of students were hanging around the lobby, I decided to use the drinking fountains outside the band room. My heels clicked against linoleum tile and echoed in the low-lit hall. I took deep, calming breaths and reminded myself that I was a performer. I was used to rejection. I just needed to pretend the school board was one more casting director saying, “Thanks, but no thanks.”
The cold water soothed my throat if not my wounded pride. I went back for a second drink and froze.
Footsteps. Somewhere down the hall to my left.
Telling myself not to panic over a student going to his or her locker for a homework assignment, I turned toward the sound and squinted into the dim hall. Nobody there.
“Achoo.”
My stomach wedged into my throat. Someone was most definitely there.
A shadow shifted on the wall halfway down the hallway, and my feet started to move. Call me crazy, but I wasn’t going to stick around to see to whom the shadow belonged.
Since whoever sneezed was positioned between me and the safety of the theater, I went in the opposite direction, doing my best to walk natural. Maybe if I feigned ignorance, whoever was lurking down the hall would take his time following me and give me an opportunity to hide.
From behind me came another sneeze and then more footsteps. They were getting closer—fast.
I ditched plan A and went for plan B: Run!
On a good day, I wasn’t the speediest runner. And when I was in strappy, sexy heels, Aldo could beat me in a footrace. My heart pumped against my chest as my feet half hobbled, half ran past rows of red lockers. I just needed to get to the end of the hallway. To the left were a boys’ and a girls’ bathroom, a couple of classrooms, and an exit. If I ducked into the boys’ bathroom, there was a chance my pursuer would think I’d raced out the exit or into the girls’ lavatory. Either would buy me enough time to take off my shoes and make a quiet getaway.
The footstep
s grew louder and even closer as I reached the end of the hall. As I raced around the corner, I looked over my shoulder for a peek at my pursuer. While I squinted behind me, I heard something move to my right. I’d started to turn toward the sound when I felt a burst of pain. That’s when everything went black.
Chapter 17
My head throbbed. My eyes felt like they’d been glued shut. The last time I’d felt like this was after the cast party for Oklahoma!. A crew member had brought happy-plant brownies. I ate three before someone mentioned the special ingredient. At least when I woke with a headache that time, I vaguely remembered dancing, flirting, and having fun before passing out. This time I remembered nothing.
“Paige?” Devlyn? Wow, did we hook up? It would really suck not to remember that.
“Come on, Paige. It’s time to open those sexy eyes and get up.”
That wasn’t Devlyn. I pried open my lids and squinted into Mike’s face. While his voice was all cop, his eyes were filled with concern. That’s when I remembered.
“Someone was following me.”
“Well, someone must have found you because you have a hell of a lump. Good thing you have a hard head.”
I considered smacking Mike as he helped me to a seated position and decided it would just have to wait. I didn’t have the energy. “How did you find me?”
Mike hooked a finger at Eric. The kid was hovering in the background next to Chessie, a very worried-looking Devlyn, and a bunch of my other students. “Eric was going to the choir room and heard a scuffle. He found you lying on the ground and called for help.”
I tried to stand and the world started to spin. Nope. No standing. Gingerly, I touched the back of my head. No blood. That was a good sign, right? I glanced at Eric, who was looking pale and decidedly upset. “Did you see who hit me?”
End Me a Tenor Page 17
