Chapter Thirteen
Gabby
My first week in California has flown by. I’ve spent every afternoon and evening with Jonathan. Marissa has gotten less moody the longer we’re here, and less obsessed with her phone. I don’t know if that means that Peter is leaving her alone, she’s ignoring him, or he was never really texting her constantly anyway. But she seems happier and more relaxed than I’ve seen her in a long time. Which is good.
Or maybe I’m just blinded by my own happiness and relaxation to notice if anyone else is out of sorts.
Jonathan’s parents have us over for a cookout on Saturday. His mom still seems cooler to me than my mom is to either Peter or Abby, but maybe that’s just the way she is. She has this effortless style like Marissa. I know enough to know that it costs a lot of money to look as natural, approachable, but impeccably put together as she does. But she’s harder, more brittle, unlike the warmth my sister exudes. She seems to be making more of an effort to be friendly this time, asking about school and music and what I’m planning on doing.
“Play for an orchestra,” I tell her, covering my mouth with my hand since I just took a bite of a slice of watermelon, and juice is dribbling down my chin.
She hands me a napkin with a closed-mouth smile, her lips pressed together, highlighting her perfectly done, no-fade lipstick, the perfect pink for her skin tone. “That’s good. Are you planning on taking auditions right after you get your degree? Or going to graduate school?”
My eyes widen. “Oh. I haven’t really thought that far ahead.” I let out a little laugh. “I mean, I still have three years left of school. I’m just trying to get through next semester, you know? I don’t even have to worry about putting on a recital until my junior year.”
She hums and purses her lips, which highlights her narrow chin and high cheekbones, making her look more severe and like my answer has displeased her somehow. “You do have some time to decide. But if you want a place with an orchestra, you’ll need to practice a lot and be willing to travel for auditions.”
“Yeah.” My response is weak, but I have no idea what to say to that. “I haven’t really looked at that stuff, though. Like I said. I have some time still.”
“Mmhmm.” She tilts her head, examining me like a bird of prey. I force myself not to flinch while I meet her gaze. “Jonathan tells me you have a gig while you’re here.”
I sit up straighter, a smile coming to my face. “Oh, yeah. Shane, one of the guys playing with Jonathan, got the gig for me. Jonathan sent him a recording, and I got the job. I’m really excited. And there’s the possibility of more work, too. This one is just two days, unless we don’t get through everything and they need to have us back for a few hours on a third day. Shane says we should be able to get done in two, though. And I’ve been practicing. Some of the rhythms are a little crazy, but that’s the worst of it. Most of it’s not very hard. Since I’ve never heard the music, I have no idea what the whole thing sounds like, so I want to have my part nailed down. That way I won’t get thrown off when it’s time to record.”
“That’s admirable,” she murmurs, taking a sip of her seltzer water.
“Uh, thanks.” That’s not quite the response I usually get when I babble about practicing. Usually it’s more like, “Good for you,” or “That’s great,” from people who don’t know what I’m talking about. Other musicians will compare notes. At least my friends do. I thought Jonathan’s mom had a musical background. Didn’t he tell me once that she taught him to read music?
Maybe if I ask her about that, she’ll talk and warm up to me. Feel some kind of connection.
“So, um, Jonathan’s mentioned that you have a musical background. That you were the reason he and his brothers learned to play and sing and form a band.”
She takes a deep breath through her nose, her nostrils flaring in her pinched face. “Did he, now?” Her face smooths, making her look beautiful again and less like a bird about to gobble me up. “Yes, I was a singer. A lyric coloratura, actually. With a promising opera career ahead of me. But I got vocal nodes in graduate school, and my career ended prematurely.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” I don’t know what a lyric coloratura is, since most of my friends are instrumentalists and string players, but the way she says it sounds important. I do understand “promising career” and “cut short,” even if the rest is lost on me.
She nods. “Yes, well. We can’t always get what we want.” Her eyes find Jonathan, who’s sitting across the patio in their backyard, laughing with his brother Brendan.
“That’s what Mick Jagger says, anyway.”
She turns back to me, surprised. I flash a smile, but she doesn’t register any reaction, except to say, “Indeed.” Soon after that, she gets up and goes to talk to Wayne, Jonathan’s dad. I track her with my eyes, wondering if I’ll ever get a clue about this woman.
“Have a nice talk with my mom?” Jonathan’s voice rumbles next to my ear, and I look up to find him behind me, grinning.
“Sure.” I know he wants his mom and me to get along. I want that, too. Sadly, Jonathan and I wanting it isn’t enough to make it reality. Shannon has a part to play, too. But I don’t want to bring down his happy mood by telling him I’m floundering with her. Maybe I’m just being overly sensitive. It’s been known to happen.
He sits next to me, his arm going across the back of my chair, his fingers caressing my shoulder. “Good. You about done eating, though? I’m ready to go soon.”
Taking one last bite of my slice of watermelon, I put the rind on my plate. “Ready when you are.”
I try to keep my eyes from bouncing out of my head when I walk into the recording studio for my first gig. Shane meets me, holding out a hand for me to shake.
He gives my hand a squeeze before letting go with a reassuring smile. “Jonathan mentioned this is your first recording session?”
I nod, swallowing hard, hoping I don’t come off like too much of a stupid newbie. “Yeah.”
“Cool. Gotta start sometime, right? Come over here, and I’ll introduce you to the other strings players.”
He leads me through the maze of cables and boom stands and mics dangling from the ceiling to the small eight-piece string section—four violins, two violas, and two cellos. “We’re using an electric bass,” Shane says, gesturing to Ruby, the same bassist Jonathan’s using. Her hair is pink and red today, but she’s still dressed in all black—skinny jeans again and a ribbed, scoop neck tank. It must be her signature look.
“Wow.” My eyes also land on Max sitting at an electric piano, headphones already on his head, but cockeyed so that one ear is uncovered. “You guys play together a lot?”
“Yeah. Not all the time, but we’ve played together for years. It’s a small world, really.” He nudges me with an elbow. “Having an inside track helps you break in.”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” Did he only hire me because I’m dating Jonathan? Like to try to get on his good side or something? “Wait, did—“
“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have the chops. Just sayin’ that who you know helps a lot.” He turns to one of the three violinists already in their seats. “This is Julia. She’s the leader of this motley crew over here.”
Julia stands with a warm laugh and gives me a bright smile, her red lipstick standing out against her tanned skin. Her caramel-colored hair frames her face, blue eyes sparkling. “Nice to meet you. Shane called me last week and said he found a fourth violin. Heather, who you’re replacing, broke her wrist in a car accident last week. She’s otherwise okay but out of commission until it heals. Everyone else we know’s all booked up. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Oh, well, glad I could help.”
Shane gives my arm a squeeze and heads to his spot on the other side of the room, and Julia introduces me to the rest of the strings section. Their names all pass in a blur, and I have to ask my stand partner for her name again when I sit down. “Kristen,” she says coldly, then goes back to warming up.
Okay. I guess we won’t be pals and go out for coffee afterward. But I have plans with Jonathan anyway, so it’s no big loss. After Julia’s warm welcome, I expected everyone else to be as friendly. Guess not.
The sound engineer (or whatever he’s called) brings me a pair of headphones that I hang on my knee like everyone else is doing right now. At least in this corner of the room.
The singers come in a few minutes later, and I don my headphones along with everyone else. The sounds of the room come through, as well as directions from the sound engineer in the booth now that the soundproof door is shut. They chatter, and I don’t really follow what’s going on, fingering through some of the trickier places while I wait for things to get started. The familiar flow of adrenaline zips through my veins, giving an edge to everything. But I’m excited for this. For this opportunity. I push aside that little voice that whispers, “Don’t fuck this up.” I know this music. I’ve played through it every day since I got it. Only a few parts are difficult. I just need to keep my head in the game and pay attention.
The lead singer’s low voice comes through the headphones in my ear, announcing the first song, “Whispers of Pain.” This has a soft string accompaniment, and I can’t wait to hear what it sounds like with the full orchestration. My part doesn’t give me much clue as to what else might be going on.
Four beats click in my ear, setting the tempo, and Julia lifts her scroll on the last one, cuing the start.
Even though the music isn’t difficult, recording it is more exhausting than I expected. We get breaks, fifteen minutes per hour according to the musicians’ union rules. I didn’t even realize there was a musicians’ union. Does it matter that I’m not a member? This is more grueling than an orchestra rehearsal, because there’s the added pressure of a performance, but without the payoff of playing once and being done, soaking in the audience’s applause. There’s no audience. Just the singers asking for another take. Or the sound engineer asking what they think. Little conferences about balance, and what can be adjusted when they master the recording.
I sit quietly when I’m not needed, stretching during the breaks, getting up to use the restroom and refill my water bottle just for an excuse to move my legs than because I really need to.
At the break after the second hour, Julia catches me at the water cooler as I’m filling my bottle, her own water bottle in hand, the top unscrewed. “Nice job today. You’re blending well. How are you feeling about everything?”
I smile, screwing the lid back on my bottle and stepping out of her way. “Good. It’s a lot different than I’m used to, but it’s fun.”
She glances at me as she fills her bottle. “Yeah. You mostly play with orchestras?”
“Yeah.” I leave it at that, taking a sip of water, unsure how much information to volunteer. It’s clear that everyone here plays for this kind of thing pretty regularly. I’m sure they’re all older than me by several years at least. Julia looks like she’s about the same age as Clara, my violin teacher at Marycliff, which would put her in her early thirties.
Julia straightens, looking me over again. “College?”
“Yeah.”
She grins and nods. “Cool. It’s good to start working before you even graduate. Shane said he mentioned the other gigs coming up. They’re all ones Heather was contracted for but can’t do now. Do you think you’ll be able to fill in?”
My mouth hangs open for a second. “Oh, um, well, I’d like to.” I glance down at my water bottle, fiddling with the top. “But I’m supposed to be heading back to Texas at the end of this week. I’m, uh, not sure if I’ll be able to change my tickets.”
“Ah. I guessed you weren’t from around here, but I didn’t realize you wouldn’t be here all summer.”
“I would if it were up to me,” slips out before I can stop it.
Julia’s eyebrows jump up. “Why aren’t you then?”
Heat creeps up my cheeks. “My parents want me at home. Last year was my first year of college, and they’re feeling the empty nester thing pretty keenly, I guess. But my boyfriend is here, and I’ve already been home a month. I’m only supposed to visit for two weeks, but I don’t want to go back.” Shaking my head, I look away again. “Anyway, sorry. I don’t know why I’m babbling all this to you.” I really don’t. And I wish I could shut up.
When I chance a glance at Julia, she’s smiling, but it’s more friendly than mocking. “Ah. Shane mentioned that he met you because he was working on a recording for your boyfriend. I hadn’t realized you were that young, though. Well, if you can swing it, we’d love to have you. The gigs are yours for the taking.”
“Thanks.”
She heads back to the recording room, and I follow her in, my feelings jumbled. On the one hand, I’m excited that she’s impressed enough with my playing to tell me about the other gigs. On the other, even though I told my parents about this gig and they were happy for me, I could see the reservation on their faces when they congratulated me on video chat.
They won’t be surprised when I tell them about the other gigs. I just wish I could predict if they’ll have already made up their mind for or against me staying longer. Or if there’s anything I can do or say to sway their decision.
At the end of the day, Julia catches me before I leave. “If there’s anything you need to make convincing your parents easier, let me know. Copies of the contracts, reassurance that it’s legit and a great opportunity, especially getting in on this kind of thing so young, whatever. I’ll even write a note if it’ll help.”
She grins at me, and I laugh. “Thanks. I don’t know what they’ll say, honestly. It was pulling teeth to get them to agree to me coming at all. Part of me just wants to tell them I’m staying and not ask for permission, sign the contracts and tell them I can’t back out. But I also don’t want to piss them off, y’know?”
“Yeah. I get it. Family dynamics can be tricky, especially when you’re just striking out on your own. I remember what that was like.”
“It doesn’t help that I’m the baby of the family, either. They’ve always been more protective of me than my older brother or sister.”
Julia’s blue eyes widen. “Oh, yeah. That makes it like a hundred times worse.” She shrugs, adjusting the strap of her case on her shoulder. “Well, like I said. Let me know if there’s anything I can do or say to help.”
With a smile, I nod and say, “Thanks. I’m not really sure there’s anything that’d make a difference. There’s nothing all that compelling for me in Denton, other than my parents. And don’t get me wrong, I love them, and it was nice to visit. But I was getting bored already. I was supposed to find a job and a violin teacher for the summer. Now that I have a job here …” I trail off with my own shrug.
“I can help with the violin teacher part, too. I’d be happy to take you on for the summer.”
My eyes widen. “Really?” I watched her play today. And listened to her warmup. Even just messing around, she sounds amazing.
“Really.” She backs away, giving me a wave. “I’ll give you my number tomorrow. Talk to them, and let me know what they say.”
“I will. Thanks.”
She waves again, turning away and getting in her car just as Jonathan’s familiar blue Acura pulls into the parking lot. I settle my violin in the backseat and climb in the passenger side, grinning the whole time. He pulls me in for a kiss that has me gripping his wrist as he holds my head in place for his onslaught.
When he pulls back, he stares into my eyes, his own hazy with lust. “Missed you today,” he whispers.
“Me too.” My grin is back in place as he releases me and turns to the steering wheel.
He glances at me, putting the car in drive. “You look happy. Today went well, I take it?”
“It did.” I fill him in on the recording session, including my conversations with Julia.
When I’m done, his grin matches my own, and there’s a determined glint in his eye when he looks at me. “Do you think your parents are available for a video chat tonight? I think it’s time you talked to them about the other jobs. And convince them to let you stay.”
With a deep breath, I nod. “Okay.” I swallow, nerves suddenly fluttering through me. And I can’t convince myself this is excitement. It’s anxiety pure and simple. What am I going to do if they say no?