by M. J. Duncan
“Nah. I brought it in with me. I left it on the table in the foyer.”
“Sounds good, I’ll meet you out there,” Gwen said, waving him on as she ducked down the hall toward her study.
She glanced at the Gagliano and Gragnani cellos that were on display next to the built-in bookshelves as she opened the carbon fiber case that had been custom-made for her preferred cello, an immaculately preserved Busan. The Gagliano and Gragnani were works of art, each true collector’s pieces valued at well over a quarter of a million dollar apiece, and while she could not deny getting a particular thrill out of playing the antiques, they were far too valuable for her to seriously consider playing them for everyday performances. And, truth be told, they did not feel as right for her as her Busan did. The Busan was certainly the least flashy of the lot—and there were those who felt that the arch on its back panel was too severe—but she had fallen in love with the cello crafted by the lesser-known Venetian lutheir the moment she first put a bow to its strings close to eleven years ago.
“Get a move on, Harrison!” Luke bellowed from the front of the house.
“I’m coming!” Gwen hollered back as she carefully laid the Busan into the case, along with her bow and a spare, and then quickly closed and secured the lid. She lifted the case to a standing position beside her, and grunted softly as she hefted it up onto her shoulder, so used to the added weight that she did not waver in her heels as she strode out of the study. Luke was looking at himself in the mirror in the foyer that hung above the console table near the front door that acted as her catch-all upon entering the house and fussing with his hair. “Stop messing with your hair. You look very pretty,” she teased.
“Aww, thanks, honey.” He winked and picked up his clarinet case, which looked positively tiny compared to the massive one on Gwen’s back, and her purse. “Here you are, my dear,” he said, offering her the bag with a small bow.
Gwen smiled as she reached inside the purse and pulled out her keys, leaving him holding the two-toned espresso leather purse with caramel-colored straps. “Thanks, love.”
Luke didn’t miss a beat as he slipped the longer strap over his head so that it cut across his body. “No problem. Does this bag go with my outfit?”
“Not at all,” Gwen chuckled as she opened the front door and waved him out. “But you make it work,” she added as she closed the front door after them and locked up.
“Yeah, I’m pretty awesome like that.” He flashed a sassy smirk and put an extra pop in his hips as he started down the stairs to the garage.
The fact that there was no direct access from the garage to the house was the only thing that Gwen would change about her home, but as it rarely rained in Southern California, the fact that the garage was tucked underneath the house was little more than a mild inconvenience. And, having the house itself sit above the steeply sloped street made its outdoor living areas quieter and provided better views of the basin below.
“So, who all do you think is going to be at this thing tonight?” Luke asked as she leaned across the back seat to buckle her cello case into place.
Gwen shrugged as she slipped out of the back of the car and slammed the door shut. “Dunno. I’m sure there’ll be the usual A- and B-listers. I mean, it’s for kids, they won’t have a hard time getting people to come out for the event.”
“Do you think Matt Bomer will be there?” Luke wondered, practically shaking with excitement at the thought.
“No clue, man, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
“He’s so fucking sexy.”
Gwen laughed. “He’s a very good looking man.”
Luke was appeased by her agreement, and nodded as he looked out the windshield at the cars and people they passed as they made their way out of her neighborhood. The workday had officially ended fifteen minutes earlier, which meant that the 101 was already moving at a crawl and even the surface streets through Hollywood were packed with people looking for either a shortcut to get home faster or just looking to start their weekend earlier.
“So, how are things going with Mallory?” Luke asked as Gwen pushed her way through the intersection of Gower and Hollywood on a light that was more red than yellow.
Gwen sighed. “I haven’t really talked to her outside rehearsals since Tuesday night when we had dinner before the Bowl.” She shook her head at the pitying look she could feel him giving her, but didn’t take her eyes off the road. “It’s fine, Luke. She has a shit-ton of material to master before her audition, and I’m just kind of sitting in the wings, there when she needs a distraction.”
“Okay.” He held flipped down the sun visor and slumped in his seat. “How are you doing?”
Gwen silently cursed the cars crowding the street around them, making the not-quite two-mile trip from her house to the Taglyan Complex take far longer than it should have. “I’m fine.”
“You look tired. You’re still not sleeping well.”
It was a statement, not a question, but Gwen still felt compelled to answer. “Not really, no.”
“Gwen,” Luke sighed, “you gotta just forgive yourself already. Dwelling on it is just going to make things worse.”
“If only it were that easy,” Gwen muttered, rolling her eyes as she stopped behind a black Prius at Sunset. “I would love to move on,” she continued in a louder tone. “And I’m trying. It’s just going to take some more time, I think. I’ve never done something like this before, okay? I don’t think it’s something that someone can reasonably expect to just forget and move past so quickly.”
“I just hate seeing you suffer.”
The light turned green and Gwen took her foot of the brake as the Prius in front of her started to move. “I deserve to suffer a little.” She smiled wryly as they inched into the intersection as the cars that had run the red light going the other way still tried to clear the crossing.
“I really hate that you feel like that,” Luke murmured, shaking his head as he reached over with his left hand to give her thigh a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah, well, I do too,” Gwen sighed. Her admission was enough to definitively end that avenue of conversation, and they finished the drive to the venue in a not-quite-easy-but-understanding silence.
Because the red carpet attendees would not arrive until closer to six thirty when the gala would officially kick-off, the streets around the Taglyan Complex were still open to thru traffic and Gwen blew out a soft breath of relief as she turned off Vine onto Lexington.
Opened in 2008 for a Papal visit to Los Angeles, the building was now used for weddings and events like the gala that evening, as well as serving as the shooting location for the film and television industry. And while the complex was generally unremarkable from the street—the building’s pale beige limestone facade was a perfect match to the church next door—its back garden and interior were the very definition of elegance and opulence.
After leaving her keys with the valet who looked like he had just arrived to prepare for the event and retrieving her cello from the back seat, they made their way through the open sliding iron gate to the paver walkway that wound through knee-high sculpted box hedges that were reminiscent of gardens Gwen had seen in varying forms throughout Europe. A ten-foot wide red carpet that ran down the center of the walkway was full of people rushing about to put the finishing touches on the venue for the event, and Gwen smiled kindly at a particularly frazzled looking older woman as she and Luke made their way past the banner stamped with CHLA’s logo and those of the event’s sponsors that the celebrities and other big donors attending the gala would be posing for pictures in front of later.
They made their way past the stunning marble fountain that served as the main focal point of the garden to the small open tent leading to the building’s main doors, and Gwen nodded her thanks to Luke as she walked through the door he held open for her. Long tables covered with pristine black and white tablecloths lined the walls, displaying items that had been donated for the silent auction, an
d flanking the doors to the grand ballroom were a pair of tables streaked with tight, perfect lines of bright white place cards that had the names of the event’s attendees hand-written in an elegant black script. The ballroom itself was palatial, with the same gleaming marble floor as the lobby and darker marble accents along the walls. The space was filled with large, circular tables that were placed just far enough apart to allow for guests to pass between them while still maximizing the number of seats. The pristine white tablecloths were blanketed in varying hues by the sun shining through the massive 5,000 square foot stained glass ceiling that made the seven large crystal chandeliers that would cast an elegant glow over the room once the sun set look almost plain in comparison.
Luke whistled softly under his breath as they wound their way through the tables to the long, elevated stage that was set against the back wall. “I always forget how stunning this place is.”
“Right? Think you and Jay could afford to have your wedding here?”
“Not in a million fucking years,” Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m afraid to even ask what it would cost to rent this place out for a night.” He waved at the handful of their colleagues who were gathered on stage. “We using that back room as a staging area again?”
“Yep,” David Fong, the lone bassist for the evening, replied with a nod. “Rhode’s back there now with the organizer, going over some last-minute notes.”
“Fun,” Gwen muttered under her breath as she and Luke headed toward a discrete door painted the same color as the walls that was tucked between a marble pillar and the edge of the stage. Not wanting to interrupt anything important, Gwen eased the door open just wide enough to catch their conductor’s eye. “We okay to unpack?”
“Yes, yes,” Rhode said, waving her forward. He motioned toward his companion with his right hand as Gwen and Luke made their way into the room. “This is Mary Schubert, the event organizer for the gala.”
Gwen smiled and offered the petite brunette her hand. “Gwen Harrison.”
“Luke Benoist,” Luke said as he, too, shook Mary’s hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Mary said with a tight smile. She turned back toward Rhode and added, “So, are you clear on the order of events for the evening?”
“We got this,” Rhode promised her with a grin and a reassuring pat on the arm. Once she left, he turned toward Gwen and Luke and shook his head. “This is her first event of this caliber,” he explained with a little laugh. “Gwen, she was thinking of perhaps having a string quartet playing in the garden as guests arrived. Would you be up for it?”
“Of course. Who else are you thinking?”
Rhode bobbed his head from side to side, clearly considering his options. “What do you think of Riemann, Driscoll, and Waller?”
Gwen nodded. Valerie Waller had been playing viola for LA Phil for close to a decade, and Tucker Riemann and Alyssa Driscoll had each broken into the first violin section the year before. She had only ever played with Waller before, but she had no doubt that the four of them would perform well together. “That could work. Where will they want us?”
“Mary was thinking halfway between the drop-off point and the fountain, where guests will be lining up to do the whole red carpet thing.”
“Good thing you wore the halter dress,” Luke teased as he began putting his clarinet together. “It’s over ninety in the shade out there.”
Gwen groaned. “Awesome.”
THIRTEEN
The flood of people dressed to the nines flowing down the red carpet toward the main doors had slowed to a trickle when Luke, bless his heart, came out to give the string quartet the signal to wrap it up. Gwen had decided somewhere in the middle of their second piece that his estimate of it being ninety degrees in the shade was far, far too low—and she wasn’t the only one to sigh with relief as she pulled her bow from the strings of her instrument.
“They’re going to start letting people into the ballroom here in a few,” Luke shared as he folded up the chair Gwen had been sitting in to play. “So Rhode wants you guys back inside. How’re you feeling?”
“Like I’m fucking melting,” Tucker grumbled under his breath, mindful to keep his voice low enough to not carry to the stragglers just now making their way into the venue.
The rest of the group made small, disgruntled sounds of agreement as they began to make their way toward the door along the edge of the red carpet. The wall of air-conditioned air that hit them as they stepped inside was shocking enough to make them all shiver as they hurried toward the ballroom, and Gwen could swear that she felt the sweat at the small of her back instantly freeze. The din of conversation filling the entry seemed too quiet given the size of the crowd mingling in the foyer, chatting amiably with each other as they enjoyed a cocktail or two, and Gwen nodded politely to each group as they passed.
“Water?” Victor Vagin, the only oboist to volunteer for the event offered as they filtered through the doors.
“You are a god,” Alyssa practically moaned as she took a condensation coated glass of ice water from the tray he held out to them.
Gwen smiled and nodded her agreement as she picked up a glass and moved out of the way so Tucker and Valerie could grab one as well. “Thanks, Vic.”
“My pleasure.”
“Christ, this is good,” Valerie sighed as she placed the chilled glass to her forehead. “It was freaking hot out there.”
“Yeah,” Gwen agreed, shooting Luke a playful glare. “Ninety in the shade, my ass.”
Luke laughed and shrugged. “Power of positive thinking?”
“Nothing positive about that heat, dude,” Tucker pointed out, shaking his head. He sighed as he, too, ran the side of his glass over his forehead to try and cool himself off.
“I know you’re probably melting from playing out there,” Rhode called from the stage, “but I’m afraid I need you to take your chairs now.”
Luke gave them all an apologetic smile as he tipped his head at the stage. “After you.”
“Thanks,” Gwen muttered as she fell in line behind the other three musicians she had suffered with outside. She shifted her bow into her right hand that carried her cello, and delicately tried to push the sweaty tendrils of hair that the barely-there breeze outside had ruffled free of the loose, elegant bun she had pulled her hair up into behind her ears.
“You want me to carry your stuff?” Luke offered.
“It’s fine,” Gwen assured him. “I’m sure I look like a complete mess, but at least we’ll be up on stage and I don’t have anyone here to impress, so…”
“You look great.”
“How about me?” Tucker asked, waggling his eyebrows.
Luke bit his lip as he gave Tucker a thorough once-over, and then grinned. “Eh, I guess you’ll do.”
Tucker laughed and flashed Luke a stiff middle finger. “Love you too, Luke.”
Luke winked and blew him a kiss.
“While I’m glad you’re all enjoying yourselves,” Rhode droned from his position on the stage before them, “we do have work to do.”
“Of course,” Gwen replied for the group as they hurried toward the stage stairs to take their seats. The music on her stand was already queued up for the first piece, and she smiled her thanks to her colleague who sat third chair in her section, Steven Borovsky. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” he assured her with a grin. “Figured you could use the help after suffering out there.”
“You have no idea,” Gwen muttered as she took her seat. She hurried to get comfortable with her cello as Rhode nodded to Mary that they were ready, and took a deep breath as the conductor lifted his hands into the air.
“Let’s give ‘em one hell of a show,” Rhode said, grinning as he began moving his hands in a silent count, and they were four lines into their first piece when Mary and her assistant pushed the doors open to welcome the event’s attendees inside.
The set list Rhode had designed for the evening was perfectly matched
to each portion of the event with louder, more up-tempo pieces for when guests were filtering into the ballroom and finding their assigned tables, followed by more reserved compositions that were not so overpowering that conversation became impossible during the course of the meal. After the dinner service was finished, they would have a small break to eat while a guest speaker addressed the crowd, before retaking the stage one last time to give a brief performance that Gwen was actually looking forward to as they would be finishing with Danzón No. 2—a particularly fun piece that was not part of their usual repertoire.
It was amusing to see and hear the animated conversations the well-dressed guests were having quiet as they entered the ballroom, and Gwen smiled as she reached out to quickly turn the page on her sheet music, impressed as she always was by the power of music to bring a group of people together.
The next hour and a half went quickly and without incident, and Gwen was genuinely surprised when Rhode turned to bow to the crowd before turning back to them, waving his arm over the group as the ballroom was filled with the sound of appreciative applause.
“We’ll be back after a short break,” he announced to even louder applause, and they all gathered their instruments and got to their feet. That was their cue to vacate the stage for the event’s guest speakers.
“I’m starving,” Luke groaned in Gwen’s ear as they waited their turn for the stairs.
“Shocking,” Gwen teased with a laugh.
“Right? But seriously, I hope the food they give us is as good as the stuff they were bringing out to the tables looked.”
Gwen nodded. She hadn’t had a great view of the ballroom from her seat on the stage, but the plates the servers had been bringing out with chicken, steak, and a medley of vegetables had looked scrumptious enough to make her stomach growl. “I’m sure it will be the same thing,” she assured him as she lifted her cello higher so that the endpin did not hit the stairs as she carefully made her way down them. “The kitchen isn’t going to go through the hassle of preparing something different just for us.”
