The Treble With Men (Scorned Women's Society #2) - Piper Sheldon Page 0,7

Truly.”

I tilted my head a fraction to acknowledge him. Good cop/bad cop was part of their whole routine.

“But you’re risking upset to our most senior musicians. We need them happy.”

“Their happiness is not my concern. Having talented musicians who can play my music is. The SOOK is underperforming. This needs to be addressed.” I stated slowly for them to understand and to make sure I didn’t mess up my words.

Andy wrung his hands. Dick’s face went from pink to tomato red as he spoke. “Maestro. You’re talented, but if you upset the Board they will not renew your contract. It’s one thing to change up the musical numbers but now, to ruffle the talent’s feathers?” He shook his head.

“Maybe the talent needs to be ruffled,” I said. I looked pointedly at Dick, whose daughter Carla was on my short list to be shifted around. Her talent was marginal and her attitude was appalling. I balled my fists.

Dick straightened. “Listen. You’re on thin ice already. You don’t want your temper to ruin another opportunity.”

“Richard, please—” Andy started.

“Well, he must be aware of it.”

I held up my hand. “I’m aware of my reputation. I’m also aware that the SOOK hasn’t sold out a performance in three years.”

“I fail to see—”

“Tickets sales went up ten percent when I signed on. And they continue to climb. Just from the attention I’ve brought. Don’t pretend you don’t need me. This symphony is dying. You brought me in to change things up and to play my music. Don’t insult me by refusing to let me do my job.”

“We appreciate what you do,” Andy cut in, a thin sheen of sweat now covering his forehead.

“Then let me do it.” I stepped closer, looking down at the two men.

Dick frowned but remained silent.

“We’re done here.” I shrugged into my jacket.

I was almost to the door when Dick spoke. “The Board will only take so much. Control your temper and fill those seats. If you can’t manage that, you’re out.”

I didn’t turn around but looked over my shoulder. “Let me do my job.”

Dick made one final parting shot. “We may want you, but don’t get confused, we don’t need you.”

I nodded once before heading out to my motorcycle. They weren’t wrong. My past was catching up with me. But in that moment, I couldn’t have said anything else. I physically couldn’t find the words. Better to let my mask speak for me. I got on my motorcycle and kicked it to life.

I was only back in Knoxville to prove myself. I’d leave this place as soon as a better offer came. For now, I had to stick through to the end. The SOOK would improve and I would conduct them. I would make that happen.

Kim Dae would help make that happen.

Chapter 4

End phrases with intention.

KIM

Sometimes throughout the season the SOOK had performances for the investors, board of directors, or other VIPs from the community. They were typically smaller affairs, made of about one hundred super wealthy people eating an overpriced dinner while we performed like wind-up monkeys clapping symbols. It wasn’t all bad—sometimes the caterers let us eat the leftovers. Tonight was one of those nights. The SOOK was performing a short showcase featuring a few key soloists, including Carla. We were meeting for a short final rehearsal two hours before the show, dressed in our typical black-tie performance outfits. My black slacks were starched stiff and my silk top trapped in the heat.

Actually, now that I looked around the room, I realized that Carla was late. Bad night to throw a tantrum. She had a habit of making a grand (read: late) entrance if somebody offended her, which happened roughly once a month. This didn’t seem like the best way to prove a point to the Devil of the Symphony. Especially not at the last rehearsal before a high-stakes show. Tonight was a dinner performance where we all but begged for money from the Tennessee elite. Old money, new money—it didn’t matter so long as it was big money.

Devlin stomped up to the podium. He always seemed to stomp places, like he wanted to give everybody plenty of time to stop talking about him. As always, he wore all black, matching the rest of us. Instead of a skull scarf, he wore a solid black one made out of shinier material. His closet likely consisted of nothing but perfectly folded face scarves, all different colors, sizes, and patterns. His baseball hat had been upgraded to a velvet trilby