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Authors: Marie Swift

The Tchaikovsky Affair

BOOK: The Tchaikovsky Affair
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The Tchaikovsky Affair

By Marie Swift

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

©
Marie Swift 2013

 

Cover Photograph:
© Robyn Mackenzie | Dreamstime.com

 

The purchaser of this book is subject to the condition that he/she shall in no way resell it, nor any part of it, nor make copies of it to distribute freely.

 

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.

One

 

Shannon
McClintock always loved the first day of the new concert season. She loved seeing familiar faces she had missed over the break and looked forward to meeting the new musicians. She also enjoyed the challenge the first few weeks always brought: figuring out how to work as a cohesive unit and learning new and exciting pieces. She could feel the collective enthusiasm in the air as she practically skipped into the New York Philharmonic’s spacious rehearsal room. This was the point in the season long before people began to get burnt out and exhausted from working long hours; the point before people began to show their true diva colors.

This year, however, she was doubly excited. Her hard work from last season had paid off and she had been given the highly sought after position of 1st violin and concertmaster. Being concertmaster of the New York Philharmonic was about as good as it gets. Added to the prestige was the fact that the featured piece of this season’s main concert was to be Tchaikovsky’s “Violin Concerto in D Major”, including one of the most impressive and technically difficult violin solos in all orchestral history. Solos were always awarded to the first chair of the appropriate section. With this solo,
Shannon was sure to become a household name in the orchestral circles and possibly even on a larger scale. It was going to mean a lot of work, but she had been preparing for this moment since she touched her first half-sized violin at age four.

As she ma
de her way to the back wall, Shannon greeted her colleagues with warm smiles. She stopped to chat to those she knew, asking about their breaks and their families, and politely introduced herself to those who were new to the ensemble. Finally reaching the wall, she placed her bag and violin case down, before kneeling and carefully lifting her Stradivarius from the case. After tightening her bow and rubbing rosin on it, she walked to the front of the room, as the rest of the orchestra dutifully took their seats. It was well recognized that when the concertmaster was ready to begin, you needed to be in your seat waiting for your cue. There was a well-respected tradition of punctuality and orderliness that helped everything run smoothly. As concertmaster, it was Shannon’s job to make announcements and discuss any administrative business for the day, tune and warm up the orchestra, and lead any sectionals before the director/conductor arrived. The key to the Philharmonic’s success was that it ran as a well-oiled machine. Just one person could bring this machine to a grinding halt by being disrespectful or disorganized. Not to mention the fact that their intimidating conductor, Antonio Gallo, did not tolerate beginning a rehearsal late.

Shannon
glanced at her watch before proceeding to the podium, where she tapped the back of her bow on the metal stand to get everyone’s attention. At the sound, the entire ensemble ceased talking and warming up. After the last sounds reverberated off the walls, the hall fell to an eerie silence. Shannon briefly glanced around the room, taking in everyone’s appearances, and frowned at the sight of the empty 1st cello chair.

“Welcome back to our veterans and welcome home to our new members! For those of you who don’t know me, I’m
Shannon McClintock, and I am concertmaster this season. We have a really awesome season ahead of us. It’s an ambitious repertoire, but it has the potential to be the best season the Philharmonic has ever seen. I’m sure I don’t need to tell any of you this, but it will take dedication, hard work, and perseverance. Clearly, none of us are strangers to hard work, but I wanted you all to know that – ”

At that moment,
the clanging of the heavy metal door interrupted Shannon’s speech. She whipped her head around to glare at the offensive intruder.  Her gaze was met by the most piercing, soulful brown eyes she’d ever seen. Shannon gasped and allowed her self to gape for a few seconds, before remembering how rude this intrusion had been.  During her unrepentant leering, Shannon noted that the woman was more than just those expressive eyes; the straggler had flowing chestnut hair, full ruby lips, curves that most women would envy, and shapely legs that, even hidden under her dark-washed jeans, clearly went on for miles.

Mumbling an apology, the
latecomer practically threw her merlot-colored cello case against the wall, before unbuckling the latches as fast as she could.

Of course her case has stickers all over it
, Shannon thought to herself.
How unprofessional.

“Please take your seat…”
Shannon demanded, gesturing for the brunette to proffer her name.


Jackie.”

“Please take your seat,
Jackie.” Shannon reiterated, with a tight smile.

“As I was saying,”
Shannon continued, as Jackie stepped over people to get to her seat, ungracefully trying to avoid hitting anyone with her large instrument. “I wanted to say that my door is always open. We are all trained for these arduous hours ahead of us, but if the stress is ever too much, please come talk to me at any point. One of the things I love about playing with the Phil is that we are a family. A crazy, ambitious, workaholic family, but a family nonetheless. We look out for each other, and as your newly appointed leader, I want to continue to foster that kind of environment.

“You have been given the rehearsal schedule for the next two months as well as my contact information. All questions regarding the schedule and music should be directed to me and I will refer questions to Maestro Gallo if needed. I shouldn’t have to remind you, but punctuality is key,” she said, pointedly staring at
Jackie, “to the success of this ensemble. It is also important to me, since it’s my head on the chopping block if rehearsal starts late. Those of you who have worked with Maestro Gallo before can attest to the fact that he does not appreciate tardiness.”

Jackie
sank back in her seat, a sheepish and apologetic smile on her face.

“Lastly, there has been one change in the schedule. This Friday I will be holding a cello and bass sectional instead of horns on the Prokofiev. Please review the first 4 pages of your scores on your own and come prepared to do some hard work. Ok, well that’s the end of my little spiel. Let’s get to some tuning!”

Shannon finished her speech with a big smile, showing off her dimples. She laughed as the 1st violin section, soon to be followed by the whole orchestra, began to applaud her. Despite the one disturbance in her welcome speech, she believed she was off to a good start. She giggled and bowed dramatically, before bringing up her violin with a flourish to play the concert A.

As the orchestra finished tuning and the cacophony dimmed, Maestro Antonio Gallo strode purposefully through the door
, his dirty blonde, unkempt hair bouncing atop his head. The orchestra unanimously leapt to their feet and cheered on their revered (and feared) conductor. He hopped on the podium and raised his spindly hands to silence the ensemble and gestured for them to take a seat.

“Please, please, that was not necessary. Actually, it was; I am the great Maestro Gallo, after all.” The orchestra laughed nervously. One was never too sure whether Gallo was being serious or if he was mocking his world famous inflated ego.

“I trust that Ms. McClintock has given a rousing welcome speech already, and I know all of you know who I am, so without further ado, we will dive right in. We have a lot of work to do. We will start with the featured piece. Please pull out the Andante of the Tchaikovsky.”

Three hours later, the orchestra was still fumbling their way through the middle movement of the Tchaikovsky. They were all excruciatingly talented musicians and obviously knew their parts, but it simply was not jibing. The sections were out of sync with each other and
Shannon was convinced the violas were lagging behind and pulling the entire ensemble with them. Her beloved 1st violins were, of course, nothing to do with the problem.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Gallo said, “Okay, take a 10 minute water break, everyone. Try to find some rhythm while you’re at it.” He could never resist being a little snarky.

Shannon gently rested her violin against the back of her chair, and headed out of the atrium and to the bathroom. Once there, she splashed some cold water on her face and combed her fingers through her blonde curls. This was not how she was expecting her first rehearsal to go. She had to keep reminding herself that it always took a few weeks to gel.

She wa
s pulled out of her internal monologue by a cough behind her. Glancing in the mirror, she was once again met with those gorgeous brown eyes. She sucked in a deep breath before turning to face the magnificent brunette.

“Hey, I-I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I have a pretty long commute and my bus – ”

“I’m sure you have a great excuse, Jackie. Everyone always does when they’re late. I know you’re a newcomer here, but you should know that it doesn’t matter what your excuse is at this level. This is the freaking New York Philharmonic. We are the cream of the crop. I don’t know your history or your credentials, and frankly, I don’t care. You’re 1st cello so you must have done something right to get here, but you can no longer ride on talent alone. You must be professional, and in my book, the number one rule of professionalism is being on time. I have a lot riding on this, as concertmaster and personally, as the soloist. It’s your first time and I don’t hold grudges, so let’s move on. Just don’t be late to my rehearsal again.”

With that,
Shannon quickly marched out of the bathroom, leaving a stunned Jackie in her wake. Shannon was aware that her speech was much harsher than necessary. She had done nothing to diminish the stereotype that concertmasters, and 1st violinists in general, were divas. Had it been anyone else, she would have made her point, but probably with much less attitude and she would have undoubtedly finished with her charming dimpled smile.

Her problem with
Jackie was not that she was late. It was that with one look, she had made Shannon’s legs wobble and her heart lurch. But Shannon could not have any inconvenient feelings threatening her success. If that meant making an enemy rather than a friend (or lover, her misguided brain reminded her) on her first day, then so be it. In this line of work, it was the unfortunate truth that you had to make enemies to rise to the top.

Two

 

Every section of the orchestra had a stereot
ype: the percussionists were kind of the jocks of the symphony; the brass were the loud, crass type; the wind instrumentalists were known to be good kissers; the bass section were the jazzy hippies; the violas were the wannabe violinists; the violin sections were the arrogant divas; and the cellos were the soul and passion of the orchestra.

Jackie
had never been too concerned with the politics of the ensembles she had been in, but she had to admit that in the one week she had been in the New York Philharmonic, the members did nothing to disprove these often negative stereotypes. She hoped that as the season continued she would be proven wrong, especially by a certain blonde concertmaster.

As
Jackie practiced in the empty hall an hour before her sectional, she found herself wondering in amazement that she was here, in New York City, principal cello in arguably the best symphony orchestra in the world. For Jackie, playing the cello had never been a means to an end. It was not her career, but her passion. It was simply an added bonus that she was getting paid simply for doing the thing she loved most in the world. Growing up with plenty of money to spare and a sizeable trust fund on the way, Jackie had never needed to earn money, giving her ample time to perfect her skills. She truly was a perfectionist, but not in the way other musicians were. She had no real goals; she just wanted to play as beautifully as possible, and if people would pay to hear her play, then so be it. It wasn’t until she received a full scholarship to Oberlin Conservatory that she realized her full potential.

BOOK: The Tchaikovsky Affair
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