Page 15 of Unraveling Fate

This is just another rehearsal. No one is watching.Her clammy hands said otherwise. Experience and talent didn’t matter. Stage fright never went away. Her financial deadline wasn’t helping either.

The lights illuminated a small circle of hardwood floor past the stage, showing just the shoes of Thomas Learmonth at the edge of the circle. She hated not being able to see her audience. People were hard enough to read as it was, stage lights made it impossible.

“My name is Cadenza Cavalieri, and I will be singing ‘When Did I Fall in Love’ from Fiorello.”

The first notes of the piano floated up, and she drew breath. Tried again to banish her mother’s deadline from her mind.Music wafted up from the earth under the building. It tangled about her ankles, wanting to add its own harmony to her performance.

Behave!Sweat prickled on her scalp. She didn’t need distractions right now.

The earthsong surged upwards again, and Cadenza allowed a few tendrils to mix with her voice. Just a few. She had to maintain control.

Mr. Learmonth leaned forward, elbows on knees, closer to the edge of the light. She could almost make out his face.

The music pushed up harder, trying to steer her song in a different direction.

Knock it off.She banished the tendrils from her voice as punishment. A singer controlled the music; the music didn’t control the singer.

Knees, elbows, and shoes slipped out of the light as her audience of one leaned back in his chair.

The piano finished, the music slipped back into the earth, and Cadenza took a step back. Heels rapped on the floor as Mr. Learmonth strode towards the stage.

Cadenza blinked once in surprise at her first sight of the club owner. He wore a knee-length, silver jacket patterned with sequined, orange flowers over powder-blue bell-bottoms and a yellow button-up. Tall and long faced, he looked in his early sixties.

“That was a delight, Ms. Cavalieri,” he said, extending a hand.

“Thank you.” She covered her surprise a second time. Mr. Learmonth spoke with an accent similar to Drostan’s.

“I am curious, however, as to why a classically trained opera performer is interested in a position as a country club entertainer.”

“Yes,” she said.Don’t blow it, Cadenza.“I know on paper my training might look a bit odd for this job, but I promise I can be versatile, and to be honest, I really need the work.” She didn’t mention Italy. Plenty of time for that later, if she got the job.

Mr. Learmonth adjusted a pair ofpince-nezto recheck her resume. “I see your address as listed in Sonora. You don’t mind the commute every weekend?”

“The drive won’t be a problem, Mr. Learmonth.”

He nodded. “Brilliant. In that case, you’re hired, with the condition that in addition to rehearsal with the band, you meet with me once a week to work on your jazz styling. And please”—he smiled—“call me Thomas.”

The stars were already shiningwhen Cadenza pulled into Norroway Automotive. After the audition, the evening had consisted of errands, a call to her agent, and a trip to Sonora City Cemetery to fill her dad in on her new job. As a lounge singer.

Lounge singer. NASCAR national anthem performer. Cadenza inhaled, adjusting her perspective.

Just steps. Only temporary. Maybe a drive in the Ferrari would help those steps feel like something worth celebrating.

She watched the garage door slide open, impatient to get the F12 out on the track, but only bare concrete greeted her in the garage.

The Ferrari was gone again.

Drostan probably took it for a drive, since it’s fixed now.You should be happy,she told herself.That was the whole point of fixing it.But disappointment sank in her stomach, and she realized she’d been looking forward to telling the car about her audition.

She rubbed her forehead. “You need some real friends, Cadenza.”

Maybe she’d run down to ask how the Berlinetta had run for him. And then he’d want to hear how the audition went. Or maybe Canon would ask.

Leaving the garage, she trekked down the hill. Cicadas droned underneath cricket song. Stars shimmered like cymbals, and the heat of the day thrummed like timpani up from the asphalt. The music wove together, hypnotic, and her steps slowed. Stopped.

She swayed in the summer night symphony. The earthsong crept up to her shoulders. Shot down her arms. Her fingers itched with the urge todo somethingwith the music. Notes swelled in her throat, and she gasped.

Stop it. I’m in control.She clenched her fists and shoved the song down. Focused on breathing. The thrumming receded under the pavement. The stars quieted.