Page 162 of Devious Obsession
We head to his car, then ride in relative silence to the CPB building. My heart is in my throat for more than one reason.
First: my callback audition for the Crown Point Orchestra.
Steele accompanied me to the first one, sitting outside the room while I played the piece I had been working on. And then we snuck into an office and fucked on the desk… you know, just for the experience.
But they want me back. And I’ve prepared a secondary piece for them, something of my own choosing.Passion, Steele had mumbled in my ear on that desk.You need to bleed for the music, don’t you?
I had forgotten. My nerves got in the way, along with everything else.
It wasn’t enough that I could play it well—I had to feel it.
And second: after the audition, we’re going to meet his mother for the first time.
I’m not sure what has me more stressed.
Steele opens the door for me, then follows me into the theater. The full orchestra is set up with chairs and music stands onstage, although it’s empty. There’s a row of people—the board that will have to vote to hire me—sitting toward the middle of the front section of chairs in the audience.
Steele slips into a seat in the back and winks at me.
I take a deep breath and continue down, smiling at Professor Wilcox when he spots me. I stop at the top of the stage.
“Hello, Aspen,” the professor says.
“Good morning,” I greet them.
There are five of them. Three men, two women. They don’t lookmean, but they do look… disinterested. So I guess it’s my job to make them interested. Right?
I had forwarded the piece I was going to play to Wilcox last week. I don’t bother to explainwhyI picked it. It was a personal choice after the last month. I wanted to show something that was sad and soulful and heartbreaking.
I’m playing ‘Once Upon a December’ fromAnastasia. It’s easily recognized and almost felt like a cliched choice at first. But at the same time, this piece has resonated with me lately. On the same level that Clair de Lune resonates withTwilightfans. The magic is in the composition. And my goal is to pour every ounce of passion and need into this performance.
“When you’re ready,” one of the women says.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
My throat is tight, and I head for the baby grand piano. It’s in excellent condition, concert-ready, with a gleaming black top that’s lifted open for best sound quality. I adjust the bench and discreetly wipe my palms on my thighs. Now is not the best time for sweating hands. I run my fingers over the keys, positioning them to start. My foot hovers above the pedal.
And then I wait. And I sink into what this piece means, what this opportunity means.
I’m not doing it because I’m desperate for a job.
I’m not doing it because I have no other options.
I’m doing this because I love playing the piano, and I’ve had dreams of being in an orchestra ever since my uncle took me to a ballet when I was ten. I think he took me there because my parents wanted me out of the house—but it doesn’t matter. I fell in love with it, the same way you fall in love with a person. Almost without noticing it, until you go home and it’s all you can think about.
My parents got a small keyboard to practice on after a month of begging. And upgraded to an electric piano that fit in our living room six months after that. A million hours in lessons and practice, and every bad thing that ever happened to me in my room was let out through playing.
Remembering that, acknowledging that my trauma has come out a hundred times over through the piano… I take a deep breath.
And I begin.
50
STEELE
My dazzling viper hypnotized the room. And me, too. My heart is filled watching her play. Her whole upper body moves with it, leaning forward slightly over the keys. Her hair pulled away from her face, the ends left loose down her back. She chose a long-sleeved purple dress that accentuates her body while remaining modest.
Not my favorite word—modest—but I understand it in this regard.
