“Hard to say no since I’ve been familiar with the music for years.” Talia grimaced. “I thought he was going to have a heart attack when I told him I’d swiped copies of the sheet music from you when we were roommates.”
Leslie laughed, surprised at how relieved she felt that Talia had agreed to help her with this intimidating concert fiasco. “To be fair, my grandfather wrote that music when I was only four or five. And I’m pretty sure Professor Williamson worked on it with him.”
“You took it with you?”
Memories flickered in her mind’s eye, coalescing into a stream of images from that night. “Yes. It was on the stand beside the violin.”
“That was the other thing the professor wanted to know if I was aware of. You’d have thought he was tattling.” Talia rolled her eyes.
“It isn’t every day that you rediscover a 3.6 million dollar Stradivarius that everyone thought was lost for good.” It still felt weird to say that out loud. La Bella Ragazza had never been more than an exceptional instrument to Leslie. She hadn’t watched her grandfather purchase it at Christie’s auction house. It had simply appeared in the case one day. When she’d asked to play it, Grandfather had given her an indulgent smile and handed it over. She hadn’t stopped playing it since.
“Speaking of multimillion dollar investments.” Talia circled the rim of her ceramic cup with one fingertip. “What did Seth and Joshua have to say about that?”
The icy discomfort in Leslie’s stomach returned with a vengeance. “I didn’t tell them.”
“Are you kidding? You didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”
Leslie closed her eyes, feeling like she was sinking slowly into a pit she’d never be able to crawl out of. “It’s just a violin, Tallie.”
“It isn’t just a violin, Les.” Talia smacked the tabletop with the palm of her hand. “It’s an original Stradivarius that’s worth more now than when your grandfather bought it because it’s been lost for nearly fifteen years. When that thing shows up on stage tomorrow night, there are a lot of people who are going to be very interested in knowing where it’s been.”
Cold anger poured through Leslie’s veins, and her backbone stiffened. She owed her grandfather this, at least. No matter what it cost, it was time to stop running from the past.
“Your father will be after you like a rabid dog,” Talia predicted.
She snorted. “My father never owned La Bella Ragazza. Grandfather purchased it for me.”
“I thought you told me your grandfather’s estate was tied up in probate because your father was trying to get control of it.”
Why did life have to be so complicated? Leslie didn’t want the money or the house. She cared only about the music and the violin. Not because it was worth a killing, not even because it was a Stradivarius. Grandfather had chosen it for her. Every time she picked it up, it was as if he were in the room again, smiling.
Talia took a long sip of her coffee. “They could’ve helped, you know. Their specialty is family law. They handle prenups and divorces, but they do a good bit of estate planning too.”
Leslie wasn’t stupid. Even if Seth and Joshua had been tax attorneys, she wouldn’t have doubted they could outwit her father. They were good at anything they set their minds to. And when they were together, they were unstoppable.
“I can tell you love them.” Talia touched her shoulder. “I never understood why you broke up with Seth the first time.”
“I don’t think love is going to fix this mess.” A sense of helplessness washed Leslie’s resolve away, and she outlined the devil’s bargain she’d made with Seth in exchange for his help with Niles’s custody case. “All three of us are basket cases, damaged by our pasts to a point where I wonder if we’ll ever be able to trust each other or be totally honest.”
“I’m not buying that, Les.” Talia’s tone was flat. “You’ve been refusing to live life for years. You just hum along in the background and avoid center stage. This stuff with Niles is a perfect example. You championed his cause when he moved in with you three years ago. Then you mediated my dismal relationship with Dylan before I met Erik. Then when I had the audition with the Jupiter orchestra, you were my cheerleader.”
Leslie squirmed in her seat. “You guys are my friends.”
“And now I’m going to be a friend and tell you to pull your head out of your ass and quit hiding from life.”
Chapter Eighteen
It was like walking into a time warp. It even smelled the same—dust from the old music, rosin, and citrus-scented wood polish. The foyer narrowed as Leslie and Talia walked toward a set of brocade curtains draped across the entrance. Gold and ivory fleur-de-lis shimmered in the soft lighting. Leslie ran the tips of her fingers through the braided sashes and felt as if she were ten years old, entering the auditorium for the first time.
She paused before stepping through the curtains. The aisle spread before her. Seats fanned out on both sides, stretching until they disappeared into the dim corners of the massive space. Talia tugged her forward, urging her down the slope toward the orchestra pit where Professor Williamson waited.
“Welcome!” He waved them down. “Did you bring it?”
Leslie wondered if it was really her he was interested in or just her grandfather’s music.
Talia jabbed her in the ribs. “Too late to back out now.”
“The hell it is. I think we could take this guy.” She tried not to laugh as the impatient professor squirmed like a toddler waiting for the bathroom.
“Is that La Bella Ragazza?” He reached for her case before she’d even stopped walking.
Ignoring his eagerness, she placed it across the arms of chair just inside the pit and opened the lid. The professor fidgeted as she took a moment to carefully remove the length of soft material covering the scroll. She dawdled a bit, amused by his antics. It was nice to have someone appreciate La Bella for what it was. She’d been hiding the truth for so long that it was like finally telling a secret you’d kept until you were about to burst.
“Beautiful, beautiful.” His fingers stretched toward the smooth red wood as if by reflex. “May I?”
Talia squeezed her arm, but Leslie pulled away. She wouldn’t refuse the professor’s request. She was done running. “Of course.”
The professor lifted it from the velvet lining and turned it so the overhead lights caught the exquisite wood grain. He peered inside to see the personal seal etched into the wood. “1707. The year of manufacture with his personal seal, as it should be. The reproductions are always overdone. Stradivarius believed the wood’s natural beauty spoke for itself, no embellishment necessary.”
His moment of awe ended quite abruptly, and he brusquely handed it back to Leslie. “Bring the music and let us play.”
The women exchanged glances and hurried down to the two music stands he’d situated near the center of the pit. Talia hastily unpacked her violin and tested the strings to see if they were in tune. She made a few adjustments to the pegs and her bow before settling into a stance that was as familiar to Leslie as her own. They’d been playing together since Leslie’s first day at the Boston School for the Arts.
Somehow, she had a feeling this was going to change everything.
She lifted La Bella and slid it into place against her neck. It fit her perfectly.
Like Seth and Joshua.
Professor Williamson arranged the music on their stands and then lifted his hands to indicate his readiness. Tonight was a private rehearsal for her and Talia to smooth out any wrinkles in the already familiar music. Tomorrow evening the pit would be packed and the auditorium filled to the rafters.
The first strains of her grandfather’s elegie soared into the domed ceiling and sent chills racing down her spine. From the corner of her eye, she could see Talia’s lips set in concentration, her fingers flying over the strings as she maintained the harmony portion of the duet.
“You must relax.” The professor lifted his voice to be heard over the music. “Let the musi
c flow through your body.”
Leslie stopped worrying about anything other than the notes pouring so sweetly from her soul to the violin. It was liberating to let the rest of the world slip away. She wasn’t a student being judged or a teacher performing a demonstration. She wasn’t in the background; she was center stage. This was the piece that had been crafted by her grandfather for her mother. Now it was hers.
When Williamson finally called a halt, Leslie was stunned to realize that nearly two hours had spooled by. Lowering her violin, she exhaled slowly, feeling more relaxed than she would’ve thought possible.
Beside her, Talia was subdued. She stowed her instrument and rummaged in her pocket for an elastic band. By the time she’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, the silence between them had grown heavy.
“What’s wrong?” Leslie looked up from the ritual of placing La Bella Ragazza in its case.
Talia nibbled her lip. “I feel like you’ve been hustling me all these years.”
There was that word again. “Hustling you?”
“In school you were always second chair to my first.” Talia seemed to be thinking her words through very carefully. “You were always good with technique, but you never really stood out. Then you started the Trio, and you were so careful to remain in the background. Niles had the spotlight, even if it meant you were playing harmony on the viola.”
Across the pit, Professor Williamson was busy making furious notes on the scores he was using for the concert. Leslie wondered if he was listening to their hushed discussion with one ear, the old busybody. “What are you trying to say?”
“I always thought I was a better musician than you, Les. But you’re amazing. I’ve never seen you play like that before. It was magic.”
She nudged her friend’s arm. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever done, you know. I can’t play a dozen different instruments like you can.”
Talia sighed and shrugged on her coat. “Ms. Warren used to say that a mediocre musician is proficient on several instruments, and a true artist chooses one instrument to master.”
Leave it to Talia to start quoting the headmistress. “As I recall, you were playing a piano when Erik realized he couldn’t live without you. And since then you’ve spent most of your time mastering him. So I think you’re doing fine.”
“I guess you’re right.” Talia picked up her case and prepared to follow Leslie up the aisle. “You know, you were the one who deserved the spot with the Jupiter orchestra.”
First she was quoting the headmistress, now she was channeling her. It was time to go, before one of them started believing that nonsense. Leslie grabbed Talia’s arm and practically shoved her down the aisle. “Don’t be silly. You earned that spot. They asked for you, not me.”
Besides, moving back to New York is not an option for me.
Professor Williamson looked up from his work as they left. “Get your rest tonight, ladies, for tomorrow night, we play!”
Giving in to a fit of giggles, they left the auditorium for the plaza outside.
* * *
Joshua slipped the keycard into the slot and waited for the light to turn green while trying to balance Seth’s large frame against his shoulder. His task would’ve been easier if his partner would have just passed out. Instead, Seth was at the most annoying stage of drunkenness: the helpful stage.
“It’s green; just shove it open.” Seth’s words slurred as he tried to kick the door with the toe of his Italian dress shoe.
“Just hold still or I’m going to dump you on the floor.” Joshua groaned as the light flipped back to red before he managed to get the handle down. “Seriously, Seth, I’m going to leave you out here.”
“Screw you, Joshua.” Seth’s head lolled to one side, his face set in an angry pout.
“No, screw you. I’m going to leave you here and hope the housekeeping staff has their way with you before you wake up.”
Seth giggled, a disconcerting sound coming from a man his size.
The suite door suddenly swung wide open, and Leslie peered out. “What are you guys doing out here? It sounds like a middle school football team playing in the halls.”
Joshua had hoped they would beat her back to the suite. It would’ve been much better to stash Seth in the smaller bedroom without her even having a chance to see him in this kind of condition. Even if it meant he had to punch his best friend to get him to lie down and be quiet.
“Oh my God!” Her dark eyes widened as she did a quick assessment of the situation. “Here, I’ll hold the door. Drag him in.”
Leslie pressed her body against the wall while Josh maneuvered a belligerent Seth through the doorway. Halfway through, Seth changed his mind and grabbed the frame. His chuckles echoed down the hallway, and Joshua finally gave up on being the nice, understanding friend. Using one foot, he swept Seth’s feet out from under him. As he fell, Joshua yanked him the rest of the way into the suite.
Leslie slammed the door closed, and the two of them exchanged blank looks over the prone form of their third. Josh scrambled for something to explain Seth’s behavior. He felt the need to make Leslie understand that this wasn’t normal. Before he could come up with anything, she clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled until she was breathless and her eyes were tearing up.
“I feel like a teenager.” There was no condemnation in her bright eyes.
His apology speech no longer seemed necessary. “I don’t think I expected you to laugh about this.”
“Anger wouldn’t solve anything. And it was obvious that something was bothering him earlier.”
Her philosophy made sense. Joshua didn’t know what had gotten into Seth that night. He’d acted fairly normal while presenting the scholarship awards and doing the necessary schmoozing with their colleagues. Then the staff had opened the bar, and he’d been first in line for a drink. Even when he should’ve stopped getting into line, he hadn’t.
She squatted down and peered at Seth’s motionless body. “Does he do this very often?”
“Not since college.”
Joshua took a moment to admire the sweat bottoms she’d pilfered from one of his drawers. The green and white camisole she wore flattered her belly and full breasts. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that fell over one shoulder when she bent down. Her position rendered him unable to think about anything other than the way her knees were splayed. With her pussy spread wide open, he wanted nothing more than to pull her onto his lap and feel her grind her heat against the erection taking shape behind his fly.
“Maybe we should just leave him here to learn his lesson.” Josh figured waking up on the floor was just the attitude adjustment Seth needed.
“Can’t. He could choke on his own vomit.”
Josh leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He knew Leslie wasn’t much of a drinker. A few glasses of wine at dinner and she was adorably tipsy, but she didn’t seem the type who had partied her way through her teen years either. “You appear to have an awful lot of experience with this type of thing.”
“I’m a teacher,” she mumbled. “Just because my students are music geeks doesn’t mean they don’t make frat-house mistakes.”
She got on her knees and pulled Seth’s head into her lap. Running her fingers through the long fringe of dark hair that fell across his forehead, she sighed. Joshua could’ve been jealous of the attention Seth was receiving for bad behavior. Instead, he was grateful for her willingness to lavish attention on Seth. It was obvious she’d forgiven him for being callous one minute and overbearing the next.
“Here.” Josh wrapped his arms around Seth’s midsection. “Let’s get him into the shower.”
“With his clothes on?”
“This is how men handle these types of things with each other.” He grunted beneath his friend’s weight. Seth was no pixie, being a hair taller and a fraction wider than Joshua. Thankfully, Leslie got the bathroom door and opened the shower stall for him. He probably should’ve been sorrier about just dumpi
ng Seth onto the floor, but he wasn’t.
“Are you sure, Josh?” She looked at him doubtfully as he flipped the cold water on full blast.
Seth coughed to avoid choking on the spray.
It was impossible to keep the satisfaction from his tone. “Yep, I’m sure.”
“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much. Are you mad at him?”
“A little.”
“I should’ve told you guys about my past from the beginning. You were honest with me, and I wasn’t with you.” She reached over and took his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Joshua thought about the conversation he’d had with Seth earlier that evening about her ulterior motives. The two of them agreed she was still hiding something. Even her apology couldn’t erase the feeling that there was still something they didn’t know.
I don’t care.
Seth struggled into a sitting position. Wet hair straggled around his face. “All right, I’m up.”
It was Leslie who turned the water off and fetched him a thick towel. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He bobbed his head up and down, though he didn’t speak.
She gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Can I get you some water or something?”
He nodded, and she quickly left the bathroom.
Joshua watched her go before hauling Seth to his unsteady feet. “If you puke on me, I’m going to punch you in the face.”
“I’m not going to puke.” Seth’s voice was rough, and he had to grip the edges of the shower to stay upright.
Josh gave the expensive slacks and dress shirt a once over. “You need to strip out of those clothes.”
Seth glanced down at the mushy Italian leather on his feet. “Next time, please remember to take off my shoes first. These were my favorites.”
“How about you just don’t do this again?”
Seth inhaled deeply and threw his head back, shutting his eyes against the bright bathroom lights. “Deal.”
He fumbled with his wet zipper while Joshua worked at the sodden buttons on his shirt. When Leslie walked back in with a bottle of water and a blanket, Seth had one hand on Joshua’s shoulder to step out of his pants.
Boston Avant-Garde 2 - Crescendo Page 15
