The Real Fling

by R. Silver

  “Crap!” I yelled at Sarah and Grace. “Did you guys know Auntie Chu and that guy were coming? I think that’s the guy Mom wanted to introduce me to.” I looked for the service entrance in the kitchen as if I were going to make a quick getaway.

  Sarah and Grace shook their heads while they started laughing. “Be nice, Samantha. I don’t think the poor guy has any family in town. It was the right thing to invite him.” Sarah grinned at me and bit into a celery stick from the vegetable tray. Grace handed me the salad bowl and hustled me into the dining room.

  As the adults entered the dining room, Auntie Chu grabbed my arm and tugged me towards her friend’s son. “Richard, this is Samantha. She is a very talented pianist and already has an album recorded. Didn’t I tell you that she was so pretty?” My mother was beaming at us and my father ignored the whole embarrassing scene. “Samantha, you are so lucky that I brought Richard today. He is a Yale law grad and works at a very prestigious firm. Do you know that he made law review? I think he would make some lucky girl a wonderful husband.” She pushed me towards Richard.

  Extending his hand, Richard made a half bow to me. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Samantha. I have to admit you are much prettier in person than your photo.” I arched a brow at him. Great. This guy thinks I am into this whole introduction thing. I am going to strangle Mom. I bet she gave Auntie Chu my photo for this dude. I struggled to put a smile on my face and shook his hand. It was cool and limp. Richard and I were eye to eye and his eyes looked miniature behind his thick glasses.

  “Umm. Nice to meet you as well. How nice that you could join our family for Thanksgiving.” I tried to walk to the opposite side of the dining room table but my mother stopped me and pushed me into a chair. Of course, she invited Richard to sit next to me.

  “Auntie Sam, is Mr. Trevor coming, too?” Jonah tugged on my hand as he made his way to the kids’ table.

  I bent to give him a hug and breathe in his delicious little boy smell. “Sorry, buddy, he couldn’t make it.”

  “Aww. We want Mr. Trevor,” chanted Jimmy. “I wanted Mr. Trevor to bring us pizza ‘cause it is yummier than turkey.” Grace shooed her boys away and gave my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

  My father clanked his fork on his wine glass. “Okay, okay. Time to make a toast. First, thank you to our guests, Auntie Chu and Richard for joining us.” Richard smiled at my father and patted my hand. I quickly pulled my hand away and took a big gulp of my wine. “Every year, I think about when I came to this country with my young wife. We have been so fortunate to have a healthy family, a prosperous business and good fortune. In this upcoming year, I hope we will see more happiness for us all. And, good luck to our Sammy on her music career.” With that, everyone raised their glasses and dug into the meal with gusto.

  “So, Samantha, I understand that you were married before,” Richard spoke to me between mouthfuls of rice stuffing. “Although it is unfortunate that your marriage did not succeed, I would not hold that against you.” His eyes looked so beady behind his rimless glasses.

  Was this guy for real and how did someone in his thirties already have a comb over hair style? “Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.” I tossed back at him. “So how about you? Have you been married before?” Hah, take that. It took all of my self control not to leave the table.

  Richard shook his head vigorously. “Oh no! I have been very devoted to my studies and career until this point. However, I believe that I am now at that point in my life that I should begin a family. Of course, I would have to find a suitable mate.” He took another serving of sweet potatoes. “I find your musical virtuosity a strong point. Your children would be very likely to have musical aptitude.”

  I finished my chardonnay and poured myself another glass. I needed alcohol to numb me from this horrible experience. “So have you had a girlfriend before?” Now I was just being mean but really could not help myself. “You know, how experienced are you,” I whispered behind my hand into his ear, “in the sack?”

  Richard turned beet red and began coughing ferociously. David, who was sitting on the other side of Richard, pounded his back. I leapt up and started clearing some of the plates into the kitchen. The rest of the evening passed without incident. However, my mother seemed disappointed that Richard did not express any interest to speak to me anymore.

  Chapter 19

  The last strains of the Chopin Etude echoed in the small performance hall. I placed my hands in my lap and looked up at the rapt faces of the twenty students who were seated in folding chairs on the stage with me. My voice sounded strange after hearing the honeyed tones from the Yamaha piano. "Okay, so here is my question to you. I'll bet many of you have studied and performed this exact piece. What keeps this piece fresh and alive?"

  I could hear shifting of feet and throats clearing as the students played the usual waiting game of who would speak first. A voice from the back, low and masculine, answered, "You can't. After you've worked on a piece for hundreds of hours, it does become tedious. The same phrasing, the same pedal work, the same legato, it all becomes stale after a while." He was tall and lean with sandy blond hair that fell across his brow partially masking his hazel eyes. There was a murmur among the other students and a few were shaking their heads.

  I turned on the piano bench to face him. One of the most invigorating aspects of the performance tour had been the opportunity to teach. This master class at the University of Southern California Thornton School of Music was my last before I flew home to New York. Each class had been different with unexpected questions and ideas. "So, what do you propose, Mr . . .? I'm sorry, I can't see your name tag from here," I volleyed back to him.

  "Garrett. I'm Garrett. I don't have a solution. I think it is a big problem with those of us who perform classical music. No matter what we do, someone else has already performed this piece. It just isn't original." He crossed one of his long legs over his knee and smiled at me with a challenging lift to his chin.

  "We only have a few moments left for discussion so I am going to wrap up by answering Garrett's question. I feel that music is very much a shared experience. Yes, as the performer you are the one making the musical sounds but the audience, whether it is just one or one hundred, is part of that experience. What your audience hears and feels when you give them this arrangement of tones that we call music, is very much part of what is happening. For the person in the audience who has never heard this Chopin Etude, it certainly isn't stale. If you are angry or sad that day, the parts of the piece that allow you to express that emotion may be exceptionally forceful. On the other hand, if you are in love, the joyful, loving sections may sing just a bit more that day. Just something to think about."

  I stood and the class clapped. As I left the performance hall, I heard Garrett's voice behind me, "Ms. Lin, wait up." I turned and saw him taking quick strides to catch up with me. "I don't want you to think I was being rude during your class. I really enjoyed it."

  Smiling, I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "Please call me Sam. I didn't think you were rude. It gave me an opening to tell the group something that I feel strongly about. It isn't all about the performer. In large part, it is the about the audience and what they experience." As he nodded, his hair fell into his eyes. Despite his cynical statement in class, Garrett looked like a fresh faced college student full of optimism. Actually, he was probably the same age as I. Trevor is older than him, a little taller, too. Seriously, Sam, can you not think about Trevor while you talk to another man?

  "So, maybe we can grab a cup of coffee or something?" Garrett really was very cute in that school boy sort of way. "You know, I could pick your brain about how you got an album deal." He had a very convincing smile.

  I looked at my watch. "I have to be at the airport in a few hours but I have time for a cup of coffee." We started walking down the street together toward the Starbucks on the corner. It felt nice to be chatting with someone completely separate from my life in New York. Someone who wouldn't ask me a
bout Trevor. It didn't help to talk about Trevor since I thought about what had happened to us all the time.

  Over lattes and scones, Garrett and I chatted about being a musician and about how tough it was to find one's niche. For the first time in at least a month, I found myself laughing easily and honestly enjoying another person's company. Garrett was so open about his music and his ambitions. When it was time to leave and we left the coffee shop, he gave me a quick hug. "I really want to thank you for having coffee with me. You are a really cool lady. Maybe, someday I'll make it to New York and we can continue our talk." I smiled and waved bye to him.

  Once I was seated in the airplane, I mulled over my afternoon with Garrett. Surely, my ease with him was a sign that I was moving on from Trevor. Right. All you can think is how much just having coffee with Garrett makes you miss Trevor. Garrett was a cute boy but you still want Trevor. Face facts, you are not even close to being over him.

  Fifteen performances in thirty days with six master classes scattered in between had tested my physical and mental endurance. The demands had helped me push my thoughts about Trevor into the back recesses of my mind. Unfortunately, at night, alone in a hotel room, images of Trevor smiling at me, holding me and touching me were like a recurrent dream. When I returned to New York, I would have to try in earnest to move on. The hum of the jet plane lulled me into a fitful sleep.

  “So Samantha, I see you are up to your same old tricks.” I turned my head and saw Michael’s arrogant brow and his haughty smile directed at me. He was sitting in a chair across from me wearing his white coat with his stethoscope draped around his neck.

  I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “What are you doing here? Why the hell are you here? I looked down and saw that I had my seat belt on. Try as I might, my fingers could not undo the clasp. “It is over between us, Michael. I left you and you cannot hurt me anymore.”

  Looking at me quizzically, Michael crossed his arms and I could hear the starched jacket crinkle. “Wrong. Every man you meet you’ll compare his behavior to mine. You ran away like a little girl from me and you have done the same thing to Trevor. Same song, different verse. Isn’t that what you musicians say?”

  “How do you know about Trevor? I did not run away like a little girl. You cheated on me. I had to leave. Trevor was doing the same thing. I had no choice.” I struggled with the seat belt that got tighter with every tug.

  “But Samantha, didn’t you just tell me that it isn’t all about the musician, it is about the audience, too.” Suddenly, Garrett was sitting where Michael had been. I shook my head. It was all so confusing.

  I held my head in my hands. “Garrett, why are you here? What are you talking about? What happened between Michael and me and then between Trevor and me have nothing to do with performing music!” I jammed my fists into my eyes to blot these crazy images from my vision.

  I heard Garrett chuckle. He was pushing a blond lock of hair from his face. “Trevor isn’t Michael. It is like you have a different audience so it is a completely different piece of music this time. Maybe you shouldn’t be hearing the same thing every time. Just something to think about.”

  What the hell was going on? Trevor was touching my cheek and murmuring in my ear. “The best part of my day is when I am with you, Samantha. Stay with me forever, Samantha.” I reached up to my face to touch his hand and pull it close to me. I felt only my cheek and my eyes flew open.

  I heard the airline attendant overhead. “Please return your seats to their upright position and fasten your seat belts as we make our final descent into New York.” I was almost home. I was almost back to New York City, reality and my life without Trevor.

  Chapter 20

  Perched on a ladder, Trevor scanned the arrangement of the two models in front of him. The tall and slim girls were scantily clad in lacy underwear. Their hair tossed in the wind created by the powerful fan. Club music pulsed through the studio. Trevor snapped shot after shot, yelling directions to the assistant pushing his ladder and encouragement to the models.

  “Okay. That’s it,” Trevor snapped two more shots. “Thanks everyone.” Climbing down the ladder, he handed his camera to Izzie. “Why are underwear shots so much work? It would be easier to generate some action with mannequins."

  One of the models walked up to Trevor. "It was nice to work with you, Trevor. Maura and I are going to go for a drink. Care to join us?" The sultry brunette trailed her hand across his arm as she spoke to him.

  With a guarded look, Trevor stepped back from her. "Teresa, right? Going to pass on that. Good work today." He turned to Izzie and pulled out his phone. "Okay, when do they want to see the proofs? Let's get it on the calendar." The model seemed confused at Trevor's brusque reply and lingered. Looking up, Trevor snapped, "Sweetheart, not interested, got it?" Teresa huffed and walked away.

  "Well, that was a jerk move. You should have taken her up on the offer. Maybe a little partying would help you snap out of this crabby mood you've been in for a whole month." Izzie put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to look at Trevor.

  "I don't know what you are talking about," growled Trevor. "You know I hate underwear shoots." Trevor plunked into a hard plastic chair in the studio and crossed his arms. "The schedule is pretty light. You can fill it up more because I would rather be busy than sit around."

  Izzie opened her laptop to scan the upcoming schedule. "You have a shoot or meetings every day for the next three weeks. How busy do you wanna be? It is the holidays, you know. Normal people like to do other things than work."

  Walking over to his desk, Trevor moved the computer mouse to click his calendar icon. Izzie looked over his shoulder. Trevor's computer screen was filled with a black and white image of him reclining and Samantha lying on top of him with her face on his bare chest and her hair partially blanketing them. Once his calendar program launched, Trevor glanced up into Izzie's face. "I think the schedule could be a little busier.

  "Hey, boss. Don't you think it is a little sad you have a picture of you and the woman who no longer wants anything to do with you as your screen saver?" Izzie's face and voice showed concern. "Have you even spoken to her?"

  Trevor rose from his chair and stood by the floor to ceiling windows scanning the cloudy skies that heralded the beginning of winter. "She won't answer my calls. I called her and texted her twenty or thirty times that first week. At least she had the courtesy to tell me she was okay." His jaw was set in a tight line. "She overheard me talking to Penny as asked who Penny was. I clammed up and Samantha got pissed."

  Izzie cleared her throat. "So, you never told her about your mother? You know, how sick she is?" Trevor's back tensed visibly and he shook his head. "Maybe, you could send Samantha a note or something to explain."

  Trevor's harsh laugh echoed in the studio. "Right, something along the lines of dear Samantha, Penny is my mother. By the way, she is a crazy bat who is also a drunk. Guess what? She has a broken leg and I am busy trying to get her settled into a really expensive loony bin. P.S. I am sorry that I hurt your feelings. If you accept my apology please check the yes box and pass the note back." When he turned to face Izzie, his eyes were a stormy grey.

  Tossing her red curls, Izzie shot back at him, "Yeah, something like that. I swear, for a brilliant man, you are a god damn moron. How do you even know what she'll think if you haven't told her?" Izzie started packing up her things in her messenger bag. "You know, Trevor, this stuff with your mother is not your fault. Maybe you need to forgive yourself before you can ask anyone else to do that."

  With a final zip of her bag, she walked out and slammed the door.

  Throwing back the last of his scotch, Trevor leaned into the sofa. The crowd was still sparse in the private lounge at Throb. The elevator doors opened and Mason strode through. "Hey, you could have waited for me to start drinking," Mason eyed the two empty highball glasses on the table. The cocktail server rushed over when Mason planted himself on the sofa across from Trevor. "I'll have the same as my friend here be
cause I'm sure it's the most expensive scotch you've got and he's paying,” Mason grinned at the waitress as she leaned over to place fresh cocktail napkins on the table giving both men an eyeful of her half-bared breasts.

  Trevor stared into his empty glass hunched over with his elbows on the table. "Finally transferred Penny to a place in Ithaca. Her leg is recovered enough that she can get physical therapy and start her rehab for the alcohol." Trevor leaned back and looked at Mason with his brow furrowed. "You know, she agreed to the whole thing but when we got there she pulled a huge hysterical fit. I am so damn tired of the whole thing. How the hell do you help someone who doesn't want to be helped?"

  "Sorry, man. It's got to be tough. You've basically had to take care of her since you were a kid." Mason sighed. "No offense, Trevor, but you look like crap. Are you still ripped up about Samantha?" The drinks arrived and their server brushed her hand along Mason's shoulder while she checked if they might need anything else. Mason flashed an appreciative smile but Trevor stared into space as if she were invisible.

  The elevator doors opened and a group of people looking beautiful and hungry only as models can spilled out. Amongst the group were Maura and Teresa who made a direct line towards Trevor's table. "Tsk, tsk, Trevor. You blew us off and you still ended up at the same place. Maybe you'll have a little drink with us now," drawled Teresa, the scent of cigarettes and wine heavy on her breath.

  Maura, blonde and svelte, giggled. "Perhaps, if you have a drink with us now, we could thank you later. You know, the three of us could have lots of fun." She and Teresa laughed as they linked hands and meandered towards the bar.

  "Hot!" Mason snickered and took a sip of his scotch. "Wow, you have it bad, Trevor. You were just offered a threesome with two very sexy models and you look positively depressed."

  Trevor barked at Mason. "What's that supposed to mean? I don't need the hassle of messing with those two. Period. Don't read into it." He drained his scotch.