When Stars Collide (Chicago Stars #9) - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,80

shown up with that ugly photo, and now it was ten times worse.

Thad was right about the poor security in her apartment. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about it, but she’d convinced herself she’d be spending so much time at rehearsals she could make it work. A perfect example of delusional thinking.

Clint stepped out to open the door for her, something Thad couldn’t do since he was trapped in the tiny back seat, his knees accordioned to his chest. Not that she needed anybody to open a car door for her. What she needed was someone to give her back her voice, her breath control, and her confidence. “Make sure he gets to the DMV today,” she told Clint as she got out of the car.

“Aw, Livia, there’s not a cop in this town who’d give T-Bo a traffic ticket.”

“Exactly what I told you,” Thad declared triumphantly.

She eyeballed Clint. “Just do it.”

Thad extracted himself from the back seat, a process that would have been entertaining if she weren’t so concerned with what lay ahead. “I’ll go to the DMV,” he said, “but only if you promise to let me know when you’re done so I can come pick you up.”

“I don’t need a chauffeur,” she declared.

“You really do.” All of a sudden, Clint, her loyal ally, had shifted allegiance. “Thad filled me in, and you’ve got some crazy sh— stuff going on. You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself.”

“I’m going to talk to a friend on the Chicago police force.” Thad took a firm grip on her arm, walking her toward the building.

She nodded begrudgingly. As much as she hated the idea of involving the police, this had gone too far.

“You’re going to be great,” he whispered, when they reached the rear door. “Toi, toi, toi.”

“Toi, toi, toi” was the traditional good-luck wish opera singers exchanged, their version of the theater world’s “break a leg.” The expression was well known among classical singers, but not to the general population, and she was touched that he’d taken the trouble to discover this.

He smiled and opened the door. She stepped back into her world.

* * *

She’d sung at the Muni multiple times, but nothing felt the same. Yes, the costume department smelled as it always did of steam irons, fabric, and must. The Egyptian headpieces fit well, and her costumes needed only a little alteration. She chatted with the wardrobe mistress as she always had and exchanged pleasantries with the technical director. She passed a rehearsal room where singers were at work on an upcoming concert. But she was more aware of new faces when they passed her in the hallway, more alert as she walked from one room to the next.

On her way to meet with the maestro, she mentally reviewed the master schedule. She wouldn’t have to sing today for the blocking rehearsal, and she could easily mark at piano tech, which was for the benefit of the production team, but she’d have to sing in full voice for sitzprobe, their first rehearsal with the orchestra. And, of course, she needed to bring her best to next Thursday’s dress rehearsal, not to mention Saturday’s opening night.

She braced herself at the door of the maestro’s office and knocked.

“Avanti!”

Sergio Tinari, the Muni’s great conductor, was short in stature but giant in presence. With his lion’s mane of gray hair, bushy eyebrows, and long Tuscan nose, he was a caricaturist’s dream subject. “Olivia, mia cara.” He kissed her hand with Old World graciousness.

She switched to Italian, telling him how happy she was to see him, how much she was looking forward to working with him again, and that she was recovering from a head cold and would need a few days before she could sing.

Sergio replied in his beautifully accented English. “But of course. You must protect your voice. Tomorrow, if you are able to mark, we can rehearse the phrasing in ‘A lui vivo, la tomba!’”

Alive in the tomb . . . She twisted her lips into a smile. “Of course.”

The note she’d just received . . . You destroyed me and now I’m destroying you, my love. Think of me with every note you try to sing.

Her fake ruby pendant felt as if it were choking her.

As she left the maestro’s studio, she knew she couldn’t offer up the excuse of having a cold for very long.

A striking woman about Olivia’s age emerged from the last rehearsal room. Olivia’s spirits immediately brightened. “Sarah!” She hurried down the corridor to