Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
K it hesitated at the door to Dmitri’s hotel room, then raised his hand and knocked. He knew that what he was about to ask the cellist was probably overstepping badly for a substitute band member, but he hoped that Dmitri would be willing to help him. Whatever Dmitri said, however, at least he could feel like he’d tried.
The door opened quickly, and Dmitri’s brows shot up at the sight of Kit. “Hey,” he said. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Kit rubbed the back of his neck and offered a sheepish smile. “I have a huge favor to ask. I half expect you’d tell me to go to hell for even considering it, except you’re too nice to do that. So…”
“Oh, sounds serious,” Dmitri replied with a chuckle, then stepped back from the door. “Come in, and make your pitch. But I warn you I’m a tough negotiator, so be prepared to sign an autograph or something equally horrible in exchange for my cooperation.”
Kit grinned and took the invitation, stepping into a room identical to his own “studio suite” across the hall. They were in Fort Worth, the first stop of three in Texas before they did a two day long haul from San Antonio to Albuquerque. The hotel was decent, reminding Kit of the stops they’d made on Sultana’s first tour, and it was nice to sleep on a bed where he could sit up without bashing his head on the bunk above.
Dmitri directed him toward the sofa, then flopped comfortably into the chair across from him. “What can I do for you?”
Kit drew in a breath. “I would like to ask you if it would be possible for me to keep doing the Rossini with Luka for the next few concerts. I’ll totally understand if you don’t want to give up your cello duel, but I figured I could ask.”
Dmitri didn’t seem surprised, which actually did surprise Kit. “Funny you should ask that,” he said, giving Kit an angelic smile. “As it so happens, my wrist is really taking a beating on ‘Fuck Off,’ and I’d been thinking about asking if you’d mind switching out the numbers for a while. Just until I have a chance to heal, of course. I can absolutely manage the other songs, but the intensity of that one… well, I don’t want to end up having to wear a brace in performances.”
Kit was wide-eyed, then he frowned, staring and Dmitri intently. “You’re shitting me, right?”
Dmitri toned down the smile, but he leaned forward in his chair, dropping his voice. “Actually, I’m not,” he said seriously. “Playing with you last night was the happiest I’ve ever seen Luka in the three years I’ve known him. Yeah, he’s a great cellist — one of the best, if you want my opinion — but while he’s always brought intensity to his playing, it’s never seemed to….” He waved a hand. “Fulfill him, I guess? If that makes sense.”
“Yeah, it makes sense,” Kit replied.
Dmitri nodded. “Not to tell tales out of school, but me, Kris, Andre, and Jett had always suspected there was something dark and hurting inside Luka, but he never shared it with us, and well, people are entitled to their secrets. I’ve tried to draw him out, and Kris, lord love her, is as maternal as they come about the rest of the band, but trying to get Luka to talk about what bothers him is like pulling teeth. Not when it comes to music, of course,” he continued, waving a hand dismissively. “I mean he never hesitates to tell us when we’re fucking up on one of his compositions, or if he thinks we aren’t bringing enough energy to performances. Not nastily or anything, but I figured he was so intently in control of the music because he feels out of control about something else. That, and he’s definitely not neurotypical.”
Startled again, Kit rocked back, staring at Kit. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m as sure as I can be without a formal diagnosis, but the signs are all there.” Dmitri didn’t lose his somber expression. “I wasn’t a music major like the rest of you guys, and I’m older than I look. I have a degree in psychology, and I was in my third year of grad school for a doctorate in neuropsychology when I decided playing cello was a hell of a lot more fun.”
“Holy crap.” Kit shook his head in surprise. “I never would have known.”
“Eh, no one ever thinks musicians know anything except music.” Dmitri grinned again. “Brian May of Queen has a PhD in astrophysics, I think almost everyone knows that. But Dexter Holland of the Offspring has a doctorate in molecular biology, and do you know the metal band Sigh? Dr. Mikannibal really is a doctor — of physics, no less.”
Kit chuckled. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He shook his head. He would have thought that Dmitri, with his boyish, blond-haired good looks, was no older than Kit himself, but he had to be older if he’d done grad school before ever joining the F-Holes.
“Hey, gotta keep people on their toes,” was the reply. Then Dmitri grew more serious again. “Look, I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but I thought maybe you’d already figured out Luka was neurodivergent, given that you’ve handled him about as perfectly as anyone could over whatever happened in your past.”
“I never thought about it, honestly,” Kit said slowly. “I just know Luka. I mean we spent our teens and early twenties together, so I’m used to him and how to approach him on things. Usually, that is.” He smiled ruefully. “I know I took a big risk pushing myself into the band the way I did, but I couldn’t think of any other way than to make Luka have to deal with me. Otherwise he would have just kept shutting me out, and I wouldn’t have had a chance to apologize and explain.”
Dmitri looked at him. “I’m not going to ask what happened, but I can take a guess. Obviously whatever it was, Luka bolted from Sultana. Which explains where a lot of the financing came from for the F-Holes first album. I was only told that we had a ‘backer,’ but in retrospect, it could only have been Luka.” He shrugged, not seeming too concerned. “It doesn’t matter. Luka is as brilliant with composing songs as he is at playing them. But he’s also never tried to stifle any of the rest of us — hell, two of the songs on our first album he never even touched. Jett and Kris wrote them. But it explains a lot about why he seems so driven all the time. I’ve seen playing exorcize his demons for a while, but they never really seemed to go away.”
“He’s had demons his whole life, unfortunately,” Kit admitted. “But yeah, I’m not going to tell tales out of school, though I’m going to consider what you’ve told me.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you pushed your way in. It helped us, and I think it’s been what Luka needed, whether or not he felt that way at first.”
“Thanks,” Kit grinned, then stood up. “I should let you get back to whatever you were doing. I appreciate the talk — and the opportunity to play with Luka. I think I need it as much as he does.”
“Any time,” Dmitri replied, rising to his feet as well. “One suggestion: let me be the one to bring it up. I think he’ll be less defensive that way.”
“If you think that’s best,” Kit replied. “Thanks so much. I owe you big time.”
“Nah, it’s fine. If it makes you feel less guilty, it’s the truth that my wrists are taking a beating — though it might not just be because of the cello.”
The droll comment startled a laugh out of Kit. So maybe he had been right about the vibes between Dmitri and Andre? He didn’t ask, but only headed toward the door.
As he opened it, he was almost hit in the face by Luka, who had a hand raised in the act of knocking on the door.
“Oh!” Luka stepped back, then glanced between Kit and Dmitri, who was a few steps behind him. “Sorry. I was coming to ask Dmitri something….”
“It’s okay,” Kit said quickly, smiling at Luka. “I was doing the same thing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and I was going to ask you both something,” Dmitri said smoothly. He beckoned both of them back inside, and Luka stepped in, then shut the door behind himself.
“What about?” Luka asked, tensing in a way that Kit could feel even without looking at him. Maybe it was the tone of his voice or something, but although Luka seemed to be opening up more every day, he was still mentally bracing himself for some kind of bad news. It made Kit sad, but it was something Luka had always done, and he regretted his part in the habit having never gone away.
Dmitri held up his right hand. “I’ve been having some pains in my wrist, but not playing the ‘Fuck Off’ duel seems to have helped it, since I’m not as bad as I usually am after a concert,” he said smoothly. “I was wondering if the two of you would mind doing the Rossini for at least the next few concerts? It would help for me to give my wrist a rest.”
Luka seemed surprised, then concerned. “You think you’ll be okay with rest? Do you want to see a doctor? Wrist pain is nothing to screw around with.”
But Dmitri shook his head. “I’m taking ibuprofen, and I know how to pace myself. I’m just being cautious.”
For a long moment, Luka hesitated, then he nodded. “I guess I’m good with that, if Kit is?” He turned his gaze to Kit, raising a brow. There was a trace of wariness in his gaze, but Kit was almost sure it was from a fear of rejection, so he hastened to nod his assent.
“I’m totally fine with it. I enjoyed doing it again, and I think the audience responded well to it.”
“They did,” Luka agreed. He seemed to consider for several moments, giving Kit a long, searching glance before finally shrugging. “I guess we’re all on board with it, so I’ll tell Greg. It shouldn’t cause any disruption in the set list.”
“So what did you need from me?” Dmitri asked Luka.
Luka stole a glance at Kit. “I was going to ask if you wanted to work on ‘Fuck Off’ tonight, but it’s moot now.”
“Then I’m glad we got that all wrapped up.” Dmitri looked pleased. “You know, we don’t have a show until tomorrow, so we could go down to the bar for a drink. I’m with Luka about not drinking before a performance, but we could take this evening to relax for once, right?”
“Sounds good to me. Luka?” Kit smiled, hoping Luka would agree. While Luka had never been much of a drinker, Kit had occasionally coaxed him out to a bar, where they could enjoy some music and talk about their plans.
Luka hesitated, then he shrugged. “Sure. Is there live music?”
“If there isn’t, we can walk down the street until we find somewhere that has it,” Dmitri declared. “And who knows, maybe we’ll even be recognized. I’m just waiting for that to happen someday, so I can feel like I’m really famous.”
Kit laughed, and Luka shook his head, but the three of them headed out. So far, everything was going better than Kit could have asked for. He just hoped that now it seemed Luka might be on the verge of accepting him as a friend again, he’d find a way to turn that friendship into romance.