We still didn’t talk about the mask. We never referenced a time after the Smokey Mountain Suite would be complete.
I wanted so much more.
Now, June was passing in a blur. As I walked into the SOOK rehearsal on what I thought was just another Monday, I quickly realized something was up. Nobody was set up, and in fact, most of the musicians stood around whispering. Typically, strings would be plucked and tuned, horns would be tested, and drums thrummed.
I spotted Erin and made my way over. “What’s going on?” I asked.
Erin widened her eyes but kept her voice neutral. “We’re having guests.”
“Oh, no.” It was supposed to be a rehearsal. Nothing else was on the calendar. I purposely wore baggy boyfriend style jeans and a worn Death Cab for Cutie tee, hoping to avoid notice, per my usual plan.
I had been attracted to men before. It was easy to justify away pure physical attraction. But my feelings for Devlin were growing into something away from cotton candy closer to meat and potatoes.
“Where’s Devlin?” I asked Erin.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Devlin, huh?”
“Maestro. Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
I glared. “Your tone said plenty.”
“How are those practices going? Anything I should know—”
“Attention.” Devlin chose that moment to walk in the room. Saved by the baller.
“Remind me to circle back to that,” Erin whispered before running back to her chair.
“I will not,” I responded under my breath.
I sat down and stared pointedly at back the of Barry’s head, focusing on how his ears protruded much like Mr. Potato Head’s. I continued to focus on my breathing even as Devlin brushed past me, squeezing through the rows of chairs so close that the back of his hand brushed against my arm. His scent filled my nose. His scent that night weeks ago still haunted me, thick with arousal … Chills prickled up my arm.
Ah, nuts, I had it bad.
“We aren’t having the usual practice today,” he said in a normal voice. The room was so quiet, I’m sure the percussion section heard just fine.
I risked a glance up at him. It always took me aback to see him with his mask and hat on again. I had forgotten what he looked like with them. Or rather, I’d gotten used to being able to openly study his face as I pleased. I was greedy to memorize the details of his face. The deep indent of his upper lip. The few strands of gray mixed in his black eyebrows. The flare of his nostrils when he was particularly into a piece of music, even if I was the one playing. Especially if I was the one playing. The deep black of those piercing eyes was somehow more arresting without the distraction of the mask. Now, all I could see were his eyes narrowed in focus.
They flicked to me. I looked away as though I’d been burned. Too late. I’m sure he’d caught me staring. Way to play it cool.
When the room grew loud with whispers, he clanged the baton against the podium. He cleared his throat. “I understand that a break is in order. You’ve all been pushing yourself with these constant rehearsals. We could use a change of pace.”
Erin and I exchanged an intrigued look.
“We will be playing for a special group of visitors today.”
There were more whispers, so when he spoke again his tone was sharp with warning. “But even though this wasn’t planned, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give the best performance possible.”
I couldn’t identify a single person, but there seemed to be small groan of understanding that we would be playing for someone who could potentially give us money. Blah. A group of rich, old-money types were gonna come in and judge us, and here I was dressed like it was laundry day.
“I’m going to bring the guests in and then we’ll play the 1812 Overture. I’ll be back in ten minutes sharp. Be prepared to play immediately.” Right before he left the room, he stopped and turned to add, “This may be one of the most important performances the SOOK plays. I know you’re all more than capable. Make me proud today, but more importantly, make yourselves proud.” He stepped out and the door clicked closed behind him.
The room stayed silent in disbelief for several beats.
All at once whisper broke out as instruments were lugged out and unpacked.
“Was that a compliment?” someone whispered to my right.
“Something is up with him,” another added.
As instructed, we were all in position when Devlin returned. Violins lifted to chins, arms raised, we were ready.
I didn’t look, but behind me were the softs sounds of shoes shuffling as bodies filled the room. Across from me, the violins—who faced the door—relaxed their arms and a few confused smiles crossed their faces. Devlin lifted his arms, commanding our attention, and before I could look, we were off.
We played the music as we had a hundred times, but this time it was immediately different. Softs gasps and shocked whispers from our audience filled the air as we began. Devlin looked to the still-unseen guests and gestured with his chin as if to say come in.
To my utter shock and delight, in my periphery, I could see children move into the space in the front of the room. They walked slowly, with wide eyes, in clumps, afraid to make too much noise. I couldn’t help the smile that split my face. The children ranged in age, from maybe ten and up? Middle and high schoolers?
As soon as the horns and the drums started, they began to relax. Each child’s eyes greedily jumped from one instrument to the other. Suzie’s Ford, a cute guy in the back with salt and pepper hair, wore a Ford’s Fosters shirt and grinned with ease as the music built and built.
The kids relaxed and moved their arms to mimic the musicians and one brave kid even stood behind Devlin in a showy move of silliness to impersonate conducting arms. Devlin spotted his shadow. I thought he’d been about to scowl, but the surprises kept coming. Devlin gestured him to come up and take the baton. He helped guide the teen’s hand for a four-count then dropped it. Obviously, the kid couldn’t keep the beat but at this point, we didn’t really need it. Devlin didn’t seem to care that it might mess with the performance.
Erin’s eyebrows were high with shock, matching my own feelings. My chest swelled with pride, as though I’d had something to do with this.
As the music built and built, their gasps of delight grew wider. By the time the climax came, there wasn’t a single one of them who didn’t have look of shock and joy on their face.
My own smile couldn’t be wiped off and my heart ran away with the tempo. I remembered all at once what it felt like to love music. To hear the power of it. To remember the pure unadulterated joy that came with hearing an entire room come to life with sound. Music from nothing. Sounds from brass and wood and metal, all from talented musicians. I remembered that feeling. How it ached in your chest and made you feel both tiny and infinite.
I got so into the music, I just played, hardly needing to glance at the music. The others did too. When I looked around the room, they were all moving, dancing in their chairs, sweating and smiling like they felt it too. This was what music was all about. It was exactly what we’d all needed to feel and see. Hokey or not, there was a reason this song was a crowd pleaser.
By the time he cut off the last note my eyes were glossy, because duh, and the kids burst out with whoops and clapped and jumped up and down. Some pumped their arms and a few even shared looks of awe.