In the Rain (13 page)

"Is
that why
you invited me here today? To convince me that I'm needed?" I crossed my
legs, but my poor attempt at looking casual wasn't nearly as successful as I
would've liked.

Thayre
raised his eyebrows at me. "Ulterior motives? Me? You clearly have the
wrong guy." He paused and rubbed at the bit of stubble on his chin. "Still,
I wouldn't be against the possibility of you coming here, seeing us play and,
maybe, get drawn into the music enough to want to join us. Just for fun of
course."

"Right,
and I guess walking out of here without at least trying isn't an option."

"It
is, but knowing you, you'd probably regret it."

"Damn."
I uncrossed my legs and stood. "I hate it when you're right."

He
leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. "Better get used to it. It happens a
lot around here." He lifted his gaze, then glanced at the stage as the
other players were returning to their seats. "Care to join us?"

I
winced, but seeing as I was already here... "Sure. Why not?"

"That's
the spirit!"

Thayre
led me down the center aisle and helped me up on stage once he'd put his water
in his duffle bag. There must've been around fifteen players sitting in front
of us, and every set of eyes were on me. Not Thayre.

"Hey,
Gang, I want you to meet, Moyra, a good friend of mine."

Their
hushed whispers filled the otherwise quiet auditorium.

Confused,
I glanced at Thayre. "You forget to tell me something?"

He
shrugged, but the sheepish grin on his face removed whatever innocence he had
left. "I may have shown them some of your work." He rubbed at the back
of his neck. "Forgive me?"

"For
what?" I gave him the sternest look I could manage without laughing. "I
don't even know
what you did yet."

The
other players laughed, but quieted once Thayre threw them a warning glare.

"Now
now," I said. "It's not their fault. What did you do?"

Thayre
patted down the air. "Okay. Okay. They may have listened to that sample
you made. A few times, actually."

"And?"

He
dropped his gaze and scuffed his shoe on the stage. "Ask them yourselves."

I
faced the players again, curling my toes to try and hide some of my anxiety.
But every face I looked at was one of acceptance.

Tabby
and I exchanged a glance, and her smile widened. "What do you call it?"

I
frowned. "Call what?"

"Your
song."

"You
know what? I didn't think to give it a title."

"Then
perhaps you should," Thayre said, turning me to face him. "Because
we'd love to do a cover of it. With your permission."

A
cover?
Of one of my songs?

You
could always play it yourself?

In
front of other people?

If
my nerves weren't shot by now, they would be soon. It was bad enough that Jay
had threatened to fire me for not showing up today, and while joining Thayre
and the others to freaking play at Webster Hall was tempting as hell, there
wasn't enough time. Not for them to learn the piece.

"There
isn't enough time," I finally said. "Doesn't it usually take months
to perfect a piece?"

"It
can, but only if
the conductor doesn't know what he's doing. Please, Moyra. This would be a
wonderful addition to our set. You wouldn't have to play if you didn't want to."

I
stared at my feet, my eyes settling on the violin case I'd noticed earlier.
Then, without giving it another thought, I picked the case off the ground and
cradled it in my arms.

"And
if I wanted to play?" I asked, mustering the most hopeful look possible.

"Are
you serious?" Thayre took me in his arms. Then, holding me at arm's
length, he said, "You are serious, right?"

I
smiled at the case in my hands. "I probably won't have much of a job after
today."

His
eyes widened, and he lowered his voice. "Want to talk about it?"

"Later,
but I think we've bored your gang long enough, don't you?"

"Yes.
Of course." He took a breath and stepped back so I could situate myself.
While I took Angie out of her case, Thayre instructed everyone else to get out
their sheet music, which he apparently wrote up after listening to my piece one
too many times. "We're ready when you are, Moyra."

Rolling
my shoulders, I looked over the music. Thayre had changed the keys and
transitions in a few places, but other than that,
it was the same. After lifting Angie and resting her between my shoulder and
chin, I lifted my gaze to check on the other players. Bows were held out in front
of their respective instruments, their eyes flitting between myself and the stands
in front of them.

I
took a breath and, to calm my nerves, I turned around to watch Thayre. He stood
motionless in front of me, baton in hand.

"Ready?"
he asked, offering me a reassuring smile.

"Ready
as I'll ever be."

"You
want to sit down?"

"I'll
stand." Lowering my voice, I added, "Do I follow you or?"

"You
can start. I'll direct once we get past the introduction. Just be yourself."

Be
myself, right.
I hadn't been myself for years.

Relax.

I
closed my eyes. Opened them again to read over the sheet music, and as I did, I
started to play. Outside of Thayre's sound studio, his violin wasn't nearly as
loud as it could've been, but then, it wasn't plugged in either. My teeth
chattered with nerves, and I clenched my jaw to keep the violin still.

My
hands were clammy, and I gripped the bow to keep it from slipping out of my
grasp.
Too many nerves.
I shivered as the other strings joined in, along
with a trance track Thayre had started to play on a nearby stereo.

He
took his place and, after holding up his hands, he did what conductor's did
best. He set the tempo for the song, waving his baton to keep us all on track
as some players faded in and others paused until he invited them in again.

When
I wasn't reading the music, I was watching Thayre and the way he moved his
arms.
Bet he's really good with a flogger, too.
I bit my bottom lip to
keep from whimpering.
Can't think of that now.

I
thought I hit a sour note, but if I did, no one else seemed to notice.
Come
on, Moyra, focus.
I followed Thayre's hands. His
strong
hands, and
the way he moved the baton in front of me. An image of Thayre, shirtless,
crossed my mind, and it took everything I had to look at my music. My feet. Anything
but Thayre.

My
legs shook. My arms tried to do the same, but I fought back my nerves by
swaying in place. I sidestepped. Twisted and turned, all the while keeping to
the notes on that piece
of sheet music.

By
the time the song ended, I was out of breath and had to sit. The other players
clapped and offered bits of encouragement as they packed up their things.
Thayre didn't say a word. He stood in place, barely moving as he excused the
other players until their next practice.

I
held Angie in my lap, but it didn't seem to help the throbbing of my clit, or
how much I wanted to see what Thayre could really do with those hands when
everyone else wasn't watching him.

Once
the stage was clear of extra bodies, he removed Angie from my lap, put her in
her case, then finally turned to me and took me in his arms.

"That
was..." He exhaled, releasing me moments later so I could stand up. "I
don't even...you're
so cute when you play."

I
looked at the floor. "I was nervous as hell."
You still are.
For
a completely different reason.

"You
did great. Flawless. What was up with that jig
though?"

"Jig?"

"As
you were playing, you danced."

I
shrugged and met his gaze. "Nerves. Too much energy. Had to get rid of it
somehow."

One
eyebrow rose, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Think you can do it
again?"

"Play
in front of the other strings?"

"More
like in
front of the entire orchestra, not to mention your dance."

"Oh,
I have a feeling that dance
is a onetime thing."

"Well
damn. I was hoping to add some nice flare to our show."

Our
show.
"Wait. What?"

"You
did say you wanted to play with us."

"I
did, but, isn't there an audition or something?"

"What
do you call what you just did?"

"And
you're sure I'm not taking this spot from someone else?"

He
shook his head and started to collect the sheet music, adding it to whatever
else he had in that duffle
bag of his. "If I had someone, I wouldn't have asked. Our next practice is
on Wednesday, so if you could make it..."

I
broke down a few of the stands, then worked on folding the chairs. "I'll
try, no promises though. I need to get things shifted around at work."

"About
that,
you said something about not having a job?"

I
stopped to look at him. "Jay was probably overreacting but he asked me to
work today after firing one of the staff. Now I'm stuck with more hours,
probably so I can train kids who'll bail on us after their first paycheck."

"I
know how that goes.
We've had a few cases like that.
Well, not after the first paycheck, but certainly the first time they played in
front of an audience. Too much pressure for them I suppose. Would be nice if we
could pinpoint the ones who'll stick around, you know?"

"If
that was
possible, there'd probably be no such thing as temporary or holiday pay."

"True."
Returning to the stage, Thayre picked Angie's case off the floor, took his baton
out of his back pocket and placed it inside the case before closing it again. "I
think that's
everything. I'm free until two if you want to do anything."

I
hugged my arms around myself to keep from shivering. "I was actually going
to ask..." I dropped my gaze. "The other thing we talked about, I'd
like to
try."

Something
thunked
on the stage, likely Thayre's violin case, as he set a hand
under my chin. "Moyra, look at me." I did. "Is this because you
think you owe me something or—"

"It
was your baton, actually." I licked my lips, but I couldn't escape his
fierce gaze. Heat rose in my cheeks. "It reminded me."

He
furrowed his brow. "You're sure."

I
nodded.

"Okay."

"Really?"
That's it? No 'call me Master' or anything?

"But
not today. Give yourself a day to think it over. When do you finish work
tomorrow?"

"If
I'm lucky? Seven or eight."

"We'll
make it eight-thirty, then. Text me once you're off work, and I'll meet you at
your place." I was about to ask why my little apartment
instead of his house, but he beat me to it. "I'd prefer it if you were
comfortable with the setting, so we'll start at your place and work from there."
He took my hand, collected his things, then guided me toward the door leading
out into the hall. "For now, I'd like to
hear what other ideas you might have for music."

T
he
following evening, I slipped out the back door at work before Jay could
convince me to stay and close up while he went out and got drunk somewhere else.
He may have seen me leave, or called after me, but I was too far in my own head
to notice.

And
at exactly eight-thirty-two, Thayre hit the buzzer at the ground level of my
apartment building. I'd had an entire day for my nerves to settle, but they only got
worse as the day went on. To me standing—no, scratch that—pacing
inside my apartment.

Someone's
footsteps approached the other side of the door. Passed it completely,
continuing down the hall to, no doubt, ride the elevator to the lobby. The
hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I paced a little faster.
Headed for the kitchen, turned, then walked toward the hall leading to my
bedroom.

On
my third pass, I threw a glance at the digital clock above the television.
Eight
thirty-three.

The
knock on the door stopped me in my tracks. Turned my gaze.
Why am I so
nervous?
It wasn't like this
was our first date.

I
opened and closed my hands, but they kept shaking. I suddenly felt as though I
should've put something else on. Something not as revealing as the silk teddy I
had lying around.

I
opened the door, using it to shield myself from anyone else who may pass in the
hall. Thayre wore a similar outfit to what he'd had on during practice, and
remembering the way he directed the other musicians, my mouth watered.

His
eyes were focused, as intense as they always were, and after an eternity, he
let himself in and—froze. I closed the door and locked it, but I didn't miss
the up-down sweep of his eyes, or the ghost of a smile on his lips.

He
cleared his throat and, very casually, strode toward the sofa.

I
joined him moments later, keeping that single
cushion of space between us.

His
eyes focused on the hands in his lap, but when he looked at me, something had
definitely changed. The air crackled with the tension surrounding us, and I
broke eye contact.

"Are
you sure you still want to do this?" Thayre said, his voice even.

"I
am."
It's all I've thought about.

He
took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it until I met his gaze.
"When I ask you a question, I want you to look at me and answer
truthfully. Now, are you still okay with what we talked about yesterday?"

"I
am."

He
released my chin and folded one leg under the other. "Before we begin,
there are a few ground rules we should cover. That said, I assume it's safe to
say talking about your ex would make you uncomfortable."