Chapter 23 Christianna
Chapter twenty-three
Christianna
We have an early concert today, an afternoon set at the zoo.
It’s summer, hot enough that the resin on my bow feels soft before I even play.
Sweat gathers at the base of my neck as we tune.
Kids wander too close to the stage. Parents shush them without much conviction.
This is about visibility. Building excitement for the grand opening and making sure we are cohesive.
I play well. I know I do. My fingers settle into the familiar patterns and stay there.
Rasmussen, the second chair gives me a side eye that sends a shiver down my spine. His eyes are cold and desperate. I look away, hoping no praying this is my imagination. We've had little interaction so far.
On the third piece, he comes in late. Hopefully no one noticed. I glance at Maestro and see the lines deepen at the edge of his mouth.
It happens again later. A shift that lands heavier than expected, the timing slightly off. I compensate without thinking, easing the bow pressure, pulling the section back into shape.
No one else reacts. The audience certainly doesn’t.
But by the end of the set, my shoulders ache more than they should. Like I’ve been holding something up the entire time.
We pack up to polite applause.
I shoot Meg a text.
Want to grab dinner tonight?
Her reply comes immediately.
Sounds perfect. I could use a girls’ night. Is Mexican okay? Craving Kamehameha nachos and a Caliente marg.
I grin.
Drooling already. Is six okay? Whoever gets there first orders a pitcher and we split the nachos?
Done.
I smile as I lock my phone. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this until I had it back.
I pack up, and catch our conductor pulling Rasmussen aside. I’m grateful not to be in his shoes right now. James Earl has made a name for himself at a young age for being a perfectionist.