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 whole 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.
“Hey, don’t I know you?”
I spun around to see a handsome man approaching, his highly-polished dress shoes glinting in the light. His fair skin was accented with sharp cheek bones and full lips that were quirked as though he were waiting for me to get the punchline. His almost-white blonde hair was slicked back with gel and was as sophisticated as his tuxedo. His eyes though? I’d know those sky-blue babies anywhere. As my recognition grew, so did his grin.
“Roddy?” I shook my head.
Roderick Chagny. My first love. I blinked and took in his appearance. He was more handsome now as a grown man. So handsome. His features had gone from cute, almost feminine, to strikingly masculine. He could have been a model for Scandinavian vodka.