In the Rain (19 page)

"Morning,"
she beamed, blowing a strand of hair from in front of her eyes as she situated
her table and chairs. "What's with him?" She nodded in Thayre's
direction.

"He
didn't feel like being a
morning person today."

"Too
bright," he grumbled, joining us moments later with a viola he had sitting
in his studio. "You'll have to excuse me if I hit a few bad notes. I
haven't played this thing in months."

Tabby
shrugged. "I doubt that will
happen, but if
it does, the only ones
who will know are Moyra and myself. Don't sweat it."

"It's
like
he's
the one with stage fright." I hid a smile behind my hand
when Thayre glared in my direction. "What?"

"I'll
have you know I don't
play
in front of big audiences. I conduct."

"Meh.
Same thing."

He
scoffed, but whatever smartass remark came to mind, he kept it to himself.

We
continued our friendly morning banter in-between setting up and getting a bite
to eat from the local bakery. It wasn't much, but it would at least hold us off
until lunch.

Still,
playing for those who passed by wasn't what had my stomach rolling over itself.
On the short drive over here, Thayre had promised to whisk me over to the Music
Barn to pick up my very own violin—one of which I had yet to name.

If
you don't name it, it isn't yours.

If
I didn't name it, I could return it.

"You
aren't going to mess up,"
Thayre's voice sung in
my mind.

I
still had my doubts, but they probably weren't necessary. Even in high school,
playing a less expensive violin, I was always afraid I'd miss a handful of
notes and, in turn, screw up the rest of our band. It never happened, and the
few times one of the other players missed a beat, someone else ended up
covering for them.

But
you're the first violinist.

I
had solos and intros to worry about—two times when it would be me playing while
everyone else toned their music back.
No sweat. I can do this. I can do
this.

We
had a few weeks left until our date at Webster Hall, and every passing day
seemed to make me doubt myself a little more.

I
can do this.

"You
guys ready?" Tabby asked, resting her cello against herself as she tested
a few of the strings.

I
licked my lips and forced a smile in her direction. "Won't know until we
try."

She
grinned, and after looking over the sheet music she had clipped to the stand in
front of us, she placed her bow on the strings of her cello. Thayre and I did
the same, and after taking a handful of breaths, I set my bow on the A and E
and started to play. Unlike our visit to the Music Barn, the song we played out
on the curb wasn't nearly as loud, and while the wind may have carried it like a
Siren's voice to nearby shoppers, it probably wouldn't compare to when we
played at Webster.

Soon,
Thayre and Tabby joined in, their melodies enhancing my own as my notes climbed
higher and higher. By the time we reached the second chorus, we already had
quite the crowd. Smiling faces, some of which I recognized from when I worked
at Kimber's, watched us. A couple of kids turned around in circles. And those
who couldn't stay to watch picked up a flyer and one of the many CDs Tabby had
more than likely burned last evening.

Fortunately,
Tabby had brought the rest of our sheet music, so after the third song, any
nerves I may have had melted away. Folks crowded around us, and aside from
those who took one of the flyers, the others stayed for two, three and
sometimes four songs before pulling themselves away from our merry little square
on the sidewalk.

"All
right, folks. We're going to take a five minute break, but we'll start up again
soon," Tabby said, letting her head fall back as she closed her eyes.

I
leaned over to pick my water bottle off the walk, quickly draining it before
tossing it in a nearby bin.

"How
are you feeling? Still good to play?" Tabby asked, looking at me, then at
Thayre.

"Definitely,"
we both said in unison.

"Thanks
for inviting us, Tabby." Thayre ran a hand through his hair. "Damn,
it's already hot, and it isn't even eleven
o' clock." He stood from his chair and set his viola down. "Watch that for
me, Moyra?"

"Sure.
Where are you headed?" I asked, pulling his chair closer to mine.

"To
the car. Going to grab my shades. I have a hat if you want it."

I
wrinkled my nose. "Me? In a baseball cap? No thanks."

"Tabby?"

"I'm
good, thanks," Tabby said, flashing me a wicked grin. "So, you think
you'll be ready for Webster?"

Heat
brushed my cheeks. "So long as it's this laidback, sure. But I have a
feeling it's going to be crowded as hell."

"I
don't doubt that.
If the crowds here are any indication, we're going to sell out if we haven't
already. Has Thayre said anything?"

I
shrugged. "Not that I
know of. I think he's been so busy getting everyone ready that if he has news
like that,
we'll hear about it later. You know, once our nerves calm down."

"Good
luck.
I haven't played a major show with them yet, but from what the other strings
tell me, it can get pretty intense. Competitive too."

"Competitive
as in playing over each other?" I glanced at the violin in my hands and
wondered if Thayre would allow me to play Angie until after the show.
Learning
a new violin could be hard.

"Fortunately,
no," Tabby said. "Maybe competitive isn't the right word. I do know
some of the smaller community groups have a strong eye on us though."

"Can't
they join in?"

"No
room," Thayre said, picking the viola up out of the chair before sitting
beside me. "If I could, I'd open our group up to others outside of the
application process, but right now things are pretty tight. Aside from the
position you're filling for us right now, Moyra, just about
everything else is covered."

I
nodded. "Can't please everyone."

"No,
but those who truly want in will continue to apply, even when
every position is full. I keep all of the applications until I have a use for that instrument.
And for the applicants who are really good, I keep their paperwork
indefinitely."

"If
you two are done gabbing," Tabby began, hiding her face from Thayre when
he scowled at her.

"Party
pooper."

"Pfft.
Play now. Talk later."

We
laughed, and as the morning dwindled on, we continued to play until our
stomachs couldn't hold out any longer. The crowds were starting to grow, and,
not wanting to disappoint them, Tabby and I continued a fun duet while Thayre
went off to find us some food.

Our
songs had gone from what we played at practice to a few of the classics. But
what made it unique were my high notes and the lower ones Tabby played.

"Guys.
Guys," Thayre called out, running up the sidewalk with bags of foodstuffs
under either arm, a cell phone in his hand. "Look at this."

He
set the food down and shoved his cell in front of us. At first, I wasn't sure
what I was supposed to be looking at, but as soon as Thayre hit play on our
town's YouTube channel, it clicked.

"We've
gone viral," Thayre said. "Someone from in town recorded a small clip
from this morning and uploaded it. We've already got close to seven hundred likes,
and the number keeps growing. And check out the comments!"

I
took the cell and slowly scrolled through the visitor comments. Some of them
were smilies or a simple, "Nice job." But then the comments about
booking a seat at Webster only to
find it was sold out started to fill the screen.

On
and on they went. One page. Two pages. Three.

I
looked at Thayre with disbelief. "They're asking when we plan on playing
here in town."

Thayre
nodded. "Not just in
town. Look." He pointed at one comment in particular that asked
if we were going to play in Philly. Another in Chicago, and yet another in
Boston. "Folks in town must be telling their families all over the
country."

I
gawked at the phone. "Thayre, exactly how big of a deal are we?"

"Usually?
A hundred or so people."

"And
now?"

"I
have no fucking clue. I need to make a few calls to see if we can get a bigger
room at Webster. It may be too late, but seeing as the interest is there..."
He took back his phone and stepped away.

"You
know what this means?" Tabby asked, almost squealing
as she wiggled in her seat.

I
smirked and raised my eyebrows at her. "Not really."

"We're
going to New York!"

I
laughed. "But we already were."

"No,
you were. I was still on the fence. My folks were nervous about it, and Thayre
hasn't actually asked since we have other cellists."

"True,
but he told me eons ago if you were ready, you'd be going with us in August."

Now
she did squeal. "Oh. My. God. But do you get what this means? The three of
us. On freaking YouTube!"

She
didn't say she was going with us, but seeing as we'd gone viral, folks wouldn't
only want
to see Tabby and myself, but Thayre as well.
Thayre doesn't play for large
audiences.
Looks like he
was going to have to change his mind, and soon. But then, who was going to
conduct on such short notice? There was no way they could learn the music, or
the players could learn the conductor in the month we had left.

We
don't always need a conductor.
Sure, for practice we
did, but by now, we all knew when to join in and when to taper off, so maybe—

"Got
it," Thayre said, taking his viola and flopping in his chair.

"Got
what exactly?" Tabby asked.

"The
Grand Ballroom. Guy on the phone said it can hold around fifteen hundred
guests."

"Okaay,
and where were we supposed to play before?"

"Marlin
Room, which would seat five hundred guests. Once I explained our predicament
and informed him we're a group of fifty players, he was able to shuffle things
around. Apparently no one's snagged the Ballroom for anything else yet."

"That's
lucky."

"Very
fortunate indeed."

"We
should probably amplify the strings a bit. I'm going to call an emergency
practice in the next week, that way
I can record us playing all the violins. Double the sound a bit."

"Sounds
smart," I said.

"I
can still connect you to an amp, Moyra, but there aren't enough outlets to
power all of our instruments. It probably won't matter much for most of what we
have planned, but for your song, we're going to need all the sound we can get."

"Once
again, no pressure."

Thayre
and Tabby laughed, but hard as we tried, we couldn't get back into our music.
Thayre had to stop every few minutes to answer his cell, and my hands shook too
much to play without hitting the occasional sour note.

By
two o' clock, we called it quits, apologized to the crowds, then invited them
to join us up in New York. Thanks to a nearby store that allowed
us to use their copier, we had flyers to spare. The CDs had run out right
before lunch, but those who weren't able to watch us play could experience
Transcendence through YouTube.

Just
survive the next couple of weeks, Moyra. Is that too
much to ask?

I
certainly hoped not, but as the day transitioned into dusk, the excitement and
the news of today settled into the pit of my stomach—where it would remain
until after we played at Webster Hall.

W
ith
two days to go before our gig in New York, I had a feeling my nerves wouldn't fade
anytime soon. Not unless Thayre was willing to turn my flesh bright red. I
wanted to be flogged—for Thayre to send me into that blissful
oblivion, but the way he stood in front of me, I knew using a flogger wasn't in
his plans for the evening. He wouldn't touch my back—he'd said as much before.

"I
don't like the
idea of you being too
stiff and sore to play."

While
I appreciated the concern for my already tense muscles, the rest of my body
felt otherwise.

Standing
with my hands behind my back, I dropped my gaze and awaited my orders. It
didn't matter how many times we'd danced like this
in the last month—the apprehension was always there. Tingling at the front of
my mind while my muscles tried to decide if they wanted to tense or if they
should liquefy under his watchful eye.

Music
practice was over. We'd worked every night this week, so for the next day or
so, we were supposed to rest, and for Thayre and I, that meant
some quiet time in his guestroom.

"Tell
me your safe words," Thayre said, his voice stern as he stepped in front
of me. To my side. Behind me.

I
shivered when his hands touched along my spine.
Stand up straight, Moyra.
I
corrected my posture and cleared my throat. "Yellow to slow down. Red to
stop, Sir."

His
hand left me, but his presence continued to consume me. "You already know
I won't flog you this evening since we're leaving first thing in the morning.
With that in
mind, do you have any other limits?"

I
wanted to say no. To ask for it all, but I also knew some other activities
would leave me too sore to sit. "No anal or any pain play involving my
butt, Sir."

"Shame.
Anal could unwind you a considerable amount, but I understand. Anything else?"

Granted,
we'd never done anal, but given I was terribly inexperienced in that department,
right now probably wasn't the best time to give it a shot. "No, Sir."

He
leaned in close to me. "I will get to claim your ass one of these days."
The caramel tone he used made my breath catch. "Now, get on your knees and
be a good Songbird."