Gretchen shrugged like I had a minute ago. “Not my business. Things locked inside.” She acted out locking her mouth with a key.
“Why are you telling me this? I thought you didn’t trust me.” The last time I was around her, she had given me a definite look. In fact, I think she’d even whispered a not-so-thinly-veiled threat.
“I don’t trust you, but I trust Roderick Chagny less.”
“Something tells me you don’t trust men,” I said.
She pulled from her beer bottle. “What have you done to deserve it? As a species, men are wholly disappointing.”
This was a woman scorned for sure.
“Men have done some good things,” I said. “We helped make the population.”
“Barely.”
I shook my head with a laugh. Then remembered. “Fucking Chagny.” I gripped the edge of the bar, wishing I could rip it off and throw it out the window.
“He says he wants to take care of my girl.” Gretchen rolled her eyes.
“He wants what she can get him and that’s money. That’s all anybody in the industry cares about.” My voice was low, mostly to myself, but I was sure she heard.
“It’s weird, isn’t it? Him showing up right now? Right when she’s getting attention.” She shook her head and lowered her voice. “Deep down, she has to know he isn’t the author of those notes. Kim is smart, but she’s also fragile. She clings to them so desperately. I’m not here to take something away from her that brings her comfort. My only concern is that she’ll listen to anything Roddy says because he represents safety to her.”
We both drifted our focus to Kim. She danced with the other girls, her hair flowing around her as she line-danced across the floor. Happiness was written all over her face.
“You’re going to have to tell her one day,” Gretchen finished.
I licked my dry lips. My Adam’s apple sat too high in my throat. “Why’s that?”
“It’s written all over your face, how much you feel for her.”
“You can’t see my face,” I said.
“You should know I’m wise beyond my years. All us girls in the SWS have experienced things that aged us too young. We can see right through the bullshit. Actually, most women can.” She took another drink. “Unless we aren’t ready to.”
“That’s my fear.” My heart hammered into my throat admitting this. “I don’t think Kim is ready to hear the things I have to tell her. I don’t want her to be swayed for the wrong reasons. She should come to her own conclusions, in her own time.” I couldn’t look at her friend while I spoke but couldn’t stop the words from coming out either.
She nodded. “She isn’t ready. She’s living with too much fear. But she can’t do anything without all the facts.”
My heart sunk. I knew that Kim was attracted to me. I was ravenous for her. If we gave into those surface feelings, the intensity of what I really felt for her might push her away. Her feelings would never deepen. I realized that now, talking to her best friend.
I needed to gather myself and double down on the music. Let us get to the showcase. Let her see what she was completely capable of and then tell her everything. For now, I had to be patient.
“You need to be honest with her,” Gretchen said. “Or I will introduce you to my collection of bats.”
“Noted,” I said.
Even if I could never have Kim in my life at the level I wanted, at least I knew she’d be taken care of.
“Just so you know. It’s totally obvious when you’re smiling,” she said before pushing off the bar and rejoining her friends.
Chapter 27
Stop when you are done, not when you are tired.
KIM
Something had changed, because the next few weeks of practice with Devlin were off. Really off. The chair announcements were delayed yet again, for the reason that the committee couldn’t decide on a few chair positions, like a hung jury. And tangible tension was ratcheting up in the Symphony. My feelings for Devlin had bloomed to a point where the mere sight of him sent a bolt of adrenaline through me. I remained professional, but wondered if my feelings were transparent. There was still the issue of Roddy, too. He seemed to offer so much, but my heart was not interested.
All the while, Devlin seemed to have retreated. He reset those strict boundaries after the performance at the bar. I had been given a glimpse at an alternate reality, a life I found myself daydreaming about. One where we were a couple that went to bars and sang and danced and everything was out there. There were no dark secrets, no shame from our pasts. I longed to peel back his layers and learn everything about him. Yet he pulled away.
We were more than halfway toward his showcase performance. Pressure sat like invisible bags of sand on our slumped shoulders. Technically, the composition was written and complete. At the end of each practice he would return to scribbling notes in the pages with a furrowed brow, a hand tangled in his hair.
“That spark isn’t there. I can feel it,” he’d say. And no matter how I encouraged him that it was wonderful, he would reply, “Wonderful isn’t good enough. It needs to be perfect.”
There was no such thing as perfect. I understood that better than most.
Now, it was our last weekend practice before the Fourth of July, and I was at his house. I skipped the pretense and packed an overnight bag. Not for any lusty reasons but because this was going to be a long weekend and going home was a waste of time. Better to at least be prepared and sleep in my own clothes. My parents had been relatively quiet on the issue and that too added to my anxious thoughts.
“Before we start today you should know something.” He stood towering over me as I gripped the neck of my cello. He was all business, with dark brooding eyes and full delicious lips. The ring finger of his left hand tapped lightly on the knee of his jeans. It was the only indication of nerves in an otherwise smooth demeanor.
Whatever he was about to say was important.
“Yeah?” My gentle tone reflected an attempt to stay cool.
“The delay with the chair decision is because I’m sampling the cello solo from the Smokey Mountain Concerto. As a sort of teaser for the September showcase.”
Small tendrils of dread swirled my thoughts like early morning fog on a lake. I nodded once, urging him on.
“As you may assume, the first chair cellist will have that solo at the Fourth of July performance.”
My stomach filled with fiery heat like I’d taken five shots too fast. Was he telling me I got first chair? It felt like a warning.
“That makes sense.”
“I don’t decide the chair ranking alone. The whole point of an unbiased third party is to ensure there was no favoritism or nepotism in the decision making. I won’t even know who is sat where until the positions are officially decided.”
“First chair is a huge decision,” I said cautiously.
He held my focus and I searched those dark eyes for answers.
“Whatever they decide, let me assure you that these last few weeks have shown me without a doubt that your talent is astounding. You are astounding.”