The Tchaikovsky Affair (2 page)

Her sister and friends often joked that
Jackie was married to her cello. Many a relationship began by watching Jackie’s sensual cello playing. Many a relationship was ruined because of Jackie’s partners not understanding her prioritizing her cello over them. Sure, Jackie loved to be in love and wanted nothing more than to settle down with a nice boy or girl, but she was not willing to sacrifice one bit of her passion for the cello, and now her career. It was for this reason that Jackie often found herself swept up in passionate, torrid love affairs that came to a grinding halt just as quickly as they began. She desperately hoped that one day she would find someone who would never question her priorities.

It was at that point in
Jackie’s thoughts that her mind drifted to the beautiful blonde who had reprimanded her just a few days earlier. She hadn’t imagined that the sweet, bubbly, cheerful woman who had welcomed them so warmly the first day could be such a class A bitch mere hours later. Normally Jackie wouldn’t care at all what others thought of her, confident in her own remarkable abilities, but she found herself trying to prove her merits to this woman. She couldn’t quite figure out whether it was out of respect for Shannon’s superior position in the orchestra or because every time she closed her eyes, she saw dimples and golden curls.

Realizing she was being watched,
Jackie stilled her hands and the mournful notes faded into the walls.

Shannon
had intended to get to the rehearsal hall early to have some quiet time to figure out how best to conduct this sectional. As she walked through the door, the sight in front of her made her heart skip several beats. Jackie was slumped over her cello (
Horrible posture
, Shannon had thought when her mind had become less foggy), her dark hair covering her face and falling gently over the neck of the instrument. Jackie didn’t just play with her lithe hands, but her entire body. As her right hand dipped across the instrument to play a raspy, low note, her entire right side from her shoulder to her hip to her knee moved into the instrument. She was an extension of the instrument in every sense of the word. It was as if the bow had been sown to her right palm, and her front glued to the body of the cello. She was simultaneously playing the instrument, producing soaring notes, while intimating a sensual solo act. Shannon felt a blush rise up her neck, feeling like she was a voyeur, intruding on a very intimate moment in Jackie’s life.

When
Shannon realized Jackie had stopped playing, she started to walk with purpose, hoping that the brunette would think she had just walked in the door.

“
Jacinta,” she breathed, “you’re here early.”

Jackie
grumbled at the name. “I usually am. How did you know my full name?”

“Seating chart,” she grinned, holding up the offending
item.

Jackie
screwed up her nose in disgust. “I hate it.  It’s so cumbersome.”

“It means beautiful, right?” Shannon asked.

“Right,” Jackie mumbled.

“I’m a river in Ireland.  I’d say your name suits you far more than mine suits me.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow, wondering whether the blonde was actually bipolar.  “Uh…yeah, you don’t look like a river.”

“
Jacinta it is, then.”

Jackie
got the feeling she shouldn’t argue.  Her full name coming out of Shannon’s rose-colored lips had a lyrical quality that got under her skin.

The two fell into an awkward silence, both pretending to be busy with odd jobs.
Jackie absentmindedly marked her music, retracing the same markings she had already written in prior rehearsals. Shannon studied the Prokofiev score, occasionally lifting her hands in a conducting pattern. Neither was actually paying any attention to their tasks, and would instead steal glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. A few times Jackie opened her mouth to say something, but could never figure out the right words. She wanted to make things right, but she knew a further apology would not be well received. She momentarily thought about starting small talk, but didn’t want to disturb the blonde who looked so cute with her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Jackie
shook her head as if trying to rid her mind of inappropriate thoughts and glanced at her watch. Still half an hour until rehearsal. Were they really the only two who wanted to get there early?

“Oh thank God,”
Jackie muttered when the door to the room was kicked open, Evan Bayer and his ungainly double bass appearing in the entranceway. He whistled as he sauntered forward, carrying his bass as if it weren’t a huge, heavy block of wood. A fedora was perched atop his salt and pepper mane.
Yep, jazzy hippie
, Jackie mused to herself, a small smirk on her face. She glanced up to see Shannon looking at her quizzically, presumably wondering what was amusing her.

The three engaged in pleasant small talk
while the others filed in, Evan acting as a buffer for the women’s palpable tension.

Shannon
’s first sectional ran smoothly and she felt that it was quite productive. Jackie found herself in awe of the blonde’s leadership and directorial skills. Similarly, Shannon admired Jackie’s clear dedication and poise. She was an obvious choice for principal cello.

Shannon
ended the sectional with a rhythmically difficult passage for the basses that was taking longer than anticipated to correct. She briefly gave notes and asked the basses to be more aware of their cues, before asking them to repeat the system. Shannon was acutely aware of Jackie’s gaze, her eyes boring holes through Shannon’s carefully constructed façade. During a fancy rhythm change, Shannon chanced a look in Jackie’s direction. Big mistake. Her heart sped and their eyes locked, while Shannon’s arms fell clumsily out of tempo. A few of the basses tried to keep up, before they lost their groove all together.

“I’m really sorry, guys,”
Shannon said, clearly flustered. “You know, why don’t we just call it a day? You’ve all been working really hard, and I’m sure you won’t have any trouble with that passage when we add in the percussion.” As she said this, she was already shuffling her sheets of music into a pile, trying to remove herself from the situation as fast as possible.

As she walked off the podium to grab her purse, she heard someone calling her name.

“Hey, McClintock!” She turned to see Evan smiling at her. “We were all thinking of grabbing a bite to eat at O’Leary’s, wanna come?” 

O’Leary’s was the epitome of a dive bar, with it’s dark and dingy
décor (the owner, Jim O’Leary called it rustic charm), just blocks from their rehearsal space. They often found themselves throwing back a few pints and playing a few rounds of darts or pool to blow off steam after a long day of rehearsal.

Shannon
smiled at Evan and spared a glimpse at Jackie, who cocked her head expectantly.

“Sorry, guys. I have no time for socializing, I have to work on my solo.”

Diva
, Jackie thought.

*              *              *

Shannon and Jackie didn’t see each other until rehearsal on Monday morning. Both spent the weekend trying desperately to keep the other woman out of their thoughts. Both tried in vain.

Rehearsal seemed longer than usual to both of them. Of course, the 1st violin chair and 1st cello chair were on opposite sides from each other, the conductor’s podium in between. Whenever Gallo reached forward,
Jackie got a glimpse of Shannon’s golden waves, and Shannon had the opportunity to watch Jackie swaying into her instrument.

Their seemingly interm
inable rehearsal ended when the Philharmonic producers waltzed in, a red-haired man Shannon didn’t recognize on their heels.

Maestro Gallo’s face broke into a wide, probably insincere, smile. “Ah, here are our lovely producers with some exciting news for all of you!”

Shannon’s eyes lit up and her back got impossibly straighter as she eagerly awaited the news.

The two producers stepped forward, leaving the red-haired man a few steps be
hind, and introduced themselves.

“For those of you
new to the ensemble, I’m Robert Carlton, and this is Melissa Washington. We are both thrilled for this season and are hoping it will be successful.”

Robert Carlton was a tall, imposing man with a booming voice.  He had black hair and a perpetual five-o’clock shadow that peppered his olive skin.  Melissa Washington, on the other hand, was a stout black woman, but despite her small stature, she was every bit as imposing as Carlton.  The two made an odd-looking, but effective, pair.

“As you are all probably aware,” Melissa cut in. “The economy, for lack of a better word, sucks right now. It is luxuries like attending concerts that people are cutting out of their lives. I know we don’t consider this a luxury, but it is an unfortunate reality. We have lost many of our donors and ticket sales have been down.”

“I know this is not what you want to hear so early in the season when the room is still filled with the buzz of excitement of new music and new family members. But, don’t fear, we have a plan to make this the best season yet and to make it so that people don’t have a choice but to come see what’s in store!”
Robert finished with a flourish. He and Melissa had a lot invested in this.

“That’s where Michael Mulroney
comes in,” Melissa said, gesturing for the man behind them to step forward. “Michael is well known for his innovative arrangements of classic pieces less adventurous arrangers wouldn’t even think to touch. We heard about his creative new take on Tchaikovsky’s ‘Violin Concerto in D’ and knew we have to have him. We are incredibly lucky that he said yes.”

Wondering where this was going, members of the orchestra began murmuring to themselves, most of them excited, some of them grumbling about learning the wrong version for no reason.

“Mr. Mulroney, will you do the honors?” Robert asked.

“I’d love to,”
Michael replied, a slight blush darkening his already ruddy complexion. “First of all, I’d like to take a moment to say that I am honored to be working with you, and I think that together, we will create something truly innovative and magical.

“The
typical third movement of this piece is the rousing orchestral backdrop to a riveting violin solo.” Shannon grinned at the mention of the solo,
her
solo. “But this is, as I said, typical. It’s one of the most famous violin concertos in the world. While it is admittedly impressive when done right, and I have no doubt that Ms. McClintock would do it absolute justice, the audience will know what to suspect, and in this economic climate some may choose to simply forgo the experience all together, no matter how accurately the song is performed.”

Shannon
’s breath caught in her throat. This couldn’t be happening to her. They couldn’t be taking away her solo. She had worked far too hard for this all just to be swept out from under her. She tried to keep her breathing regular and attempted to display no emotions in front of her colleagues, in front of Jackie.

“Don’t worry, Ms.
McClintock,” Robert said. Obviously she wasn’t as nonchalant as she’d hoped. “The solo is not being taken away from you; we are just adding another dynamic. This will be difficult for you two, but we are turning the solo into a duet. As you all know, the solo is very paradoxical, almost schizophrenic, switching from lightening fast melismas to melancholic, legato passages. We want to use that paradox to our advantage and portray it as a passionate dance between two opposing instruments.

“Therefore,”
Robert continued, pausing and breathing deeply, “Ms. Jackie Ortiz will be joining Ms. McClintock in the third movement. You will both be working closely with Mr. Mulroney and Maestro Gallo to figure out the logistics. I realize this means extra work for both of you, but I trust you are both capable. I will also need to speak to both of you about the extra press we will be doing.”

With that,
Robert, Melissa, and Michael (
the Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse
, Shannon decided in that moment) all swiftly walked back out of the single metal door, leaving the orchestra murmuring at the exciting and slightly terrifying new change.

Shannon
lowered her head and breathed in deeply, willing her body to calm down and her mind to stop racing. When she lifted her head again she was met with Jackie’s miraculous, captivating smile.

Shit.

Three

Shannon
paced outside the producers’ office, absolutely livid. She tried to regulate her breathing and must have counted to ten at least five times by now.

“You can come in, Ms.
McClintock,” Robert’s voice boomed from inside.

She walked in brusquely and was surprised to see not just the producers, but also
Mulroney and Gallo.

“Please,
Shannon, have a seat,” Melissa nodded to the spare chair. “We would just like to talk to you briefly about the situation, specifically the extra press we will be doing with you and Jackie.”