“Oh.” A weight lifted from my shoulders.
My chest rose as I took a deep breath in. I released it slowly. Surely the entire room was waiting to see what my deal was.
“I appreciate you stepping in for her.” He lifted his chin to get me to look into his eyes. “I’m sure she would appreciate it too.”
I doubted that, but at least I wasn’t taking the performance from her. I was helping the orchestra out. I could absolutely do this. My thoughts had me worrying my bottom lip.
His focus lowered to my lips then quickly to where my hand gripped the shoulder of my cello. He cleared his throat. “Are you ready?”
I swallowed down my irrational fears. Carla was fine. It was just one show. I could do this. I got into position in answer to his question. Those dark eyes flitted around my face as though checking to see if I really was ready.
“All you need to do is watch me.” When he spoke his mask hardly moved; nobody would know he’d spoken at all. My gaze was locked on his as it smoldered with intensity. “It’s you and me.”
As though I could look anywhere else. When he gave me his focus, the rest of the room faded away. The rest of the world.
“Ready?” he asked.
I forced my shoulders down. He got back onto the podium and I lifted my bow to wait for my solo entrance as he counted the rest of the orchestra in. The notes on the page transformed into a foreign language. The music quieted, signifying my entrance. I drew my bow along the string, but my tense arm caused a noticeable wobble. A wave of heat burned up my neck, a flush likely giving me away. Just when I thought I might lose total control, I remembered his directions. I looked to him.
His arm conducted the rest of the orchestra smoothly as they played their soft accompaniment, but his head was turned to me. He was willing me to look at him. His eyes narrowed when mine finally met his. He nodded his chin subtly. I didn’t need to read the music. I knew this solo in my sleep. Instead, I kept my focus on him. I played. Everything else blurred into the background. The music came then. It flowed through me.
It was just us and the beautiful music.
Chapter 5
Don’t just play the notes, bleed them.
DEVLIN
Watch me.
Christine Day led the rest of the cellos on stage. With her shoulders back and chin lifted, the small audience gathered behind me might think she did this every day. She showed hidden courage in the face of this last-minute switch up, but underneath her cool facade, her color was off and there was a tense set to her jaw.
Just watch me, I willed.
Our gazes clashed. Each time they did, a bolt of awareness shot through my body. By the end of the pre-show rehearsal today I was jittery with adrenaline. She had watched me the whole time. Now as she settled into first chair, she preferred to look at me rather than the hushed commentary of the onlookers.
“Who is that?” someone whispered behind my back.
“Not sure,” another replied. “Where’s Carla?”
When Carla hadn’t shown up, I’d thought my first donor dinner show would be a dismal flop. The second chair looked like he was going to lose his lunch when asked to perform. If not for Kim, who knows what the board of directors would have thought. Carla’s sudden absence felt like another blow to my short career with the SOOK. So much rested on Kim stepping up, but I worried she might shy away from taking the lead like Barry had. Her reticence was written all over her ghostly-white face. She’d shocked me by asking first if Carla was okay and then after only a few moments of hesitation, she’d played the solo almost perfectly.
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’sPiano 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.
