The Treble With Men (Scorned Women's Society #2) - Piper Sheldon Page 0,10
asked to perform. If not for Kim, who knows what the board of directors would have thought. Carla’s sudden absence felt like another blow to my short career with the SOOK. So much rested on Kim stepping up, but I worried she might shy away from taking the lead like Barry had. Her reticence was written all over her ghostly-white face. She’d shocked me by asking first if Carla was okay and then after only a few moments of hesitation, she’d played the solo almost perfectly.
Now, here she sat, feigning confidence as the audience waited expectantly for us to begin.
“Thank you all for coming today.” I addressed the room speaking loudly so my words were not muffled through the mask. Several of the onlookers raised eyebrows at my appearance but I was used to it. I kept my voice low and commanding, but damn I hated this part. “There has been a small change to the program. Christine Day will be performing the solo in the third movement of Brahm’s Piano Concerto No. 2. Now, please enjoy your dinners as the Symphonic Orchestra of Knoxville performs for you, our most honored guests.”
The room clapped politely as I turned back to my musicians. I took a moment to steady my hands before I lifted the baton.
Despite my worries that there would be another small act of rebellion, the symphony performed well. The first two movements went without a hitch, but I could feel Kim’s nerves grow with every passing measure. As the third movement began, a red flush began to spread up the pale column of her neck. The symphony wound down for her solo. Forks stopped clattering against plates, voices dropped off. All the eyes in the room went straight to her.
Kim took a deep breath in as she lifted her bow to begin. Her gaze found mine and, just like in rehearsal, they remained locked there. Though slightly nervous at first, her confidence grew with each note. Her body swayed with her performance.
A swift check on the audience found they all shared looks of wide-eyed wonder at this new soloist. How could they not? Of course, she was beautiful, but that was the least interesting thing about her. The moment her bow pulled across the strings, her soul was expressed. She couldn’t help it. Her zeal for life floated along with the notes and filled every inch of the room.
She took direction perfectly. I hardly needed to lead. She read my cues, feeling instinctually, when I slowed her down or sped her up. When our eyes would lock, my heartbeat would stutter and I was never so grateful to have my face covered. Otherwise, she’d see all the things I felt too soon. We had time for that later.
A dark lock of hair had come loose from her tight bun as she rocked with the music. She blew it out of her face before it stubbornly came back to fall in the same place. She let it be. A small smile tugged her mouth after she nailed a particularly difficult slide. The power in those delicate fingers as they flew into fifth position was astounding. Her face was sharpened with focus, her mouth forming shapes with the music. Her brows arched and flattened in turn.
Still, I sensed she’d held back. This was not the languid passion I had seen when I’d watched her play at night by herself. There was a stiffness to her that wasn’t there before. Something had caused her to change from the Kim Dae I knew from the past to the muted Christine Day of today. Our rehearsals together would have to focus on that, fix whatever it was that prevented her from giving in fully. Even still. With only a spark of the fire I knew she possessed, she lit up the room.
When she opened her eyes again, they returned to me. I smiled knowing it was safely unseen behind the bandana. I hoped she felt a fraction of the pride blazing in my chest right now. I was proud for her, even if she would be too modest to accept her talents.
The movement ended with her solo and the room exploded into applause. Chairs pushed back from their tables and cries of “bravo” filled the room. My focus remained on her as long as it could, watching her take the praise with grace but not faux humility. She nailed that and she was proud of herself. Her smile lit up the room.