Chapter 23 Villain
VILLAIN
The musicians were supposed to meet in Providence’s lobby Monday morning. I held Othello on the edge of the room near a pillar, waiting for others to show up. I’d settled for a pink sheath instead of the black one with puppy sequins. Maybe I’d wear that tomorrow if everyone else was in black.
They weren’t. The musicians came in a loud group, guitars and keyboards mixed with percussion. These were not classical musicians. Wouldn’t they at least have an oboe or something that wasn’t scraped from a generic rock band?
When they saw me, they started muttering. A stringy-haired guitarist came over with a nod that didn’t make him look cool, however talented he was. “I’ve seen some sick renditions of some classics on cello. Thunderstruck, Welcome to the Jungle, Walk This Way… What’s your jam?”
This idiot thought those were classics? This was going to be a long day. I kind of wanted to put him in his place and make him realize his idiocy, but I wanted to play well with a band even more.
“I’m adaptable.”
“Cool. So Band of Demons usually does some classic kicks and then moves onto a smoother set to calm people down before the big pep speeches.”
“I think it is her. I’m telling you, it’s the nose,” the only female musician muttered to the drummer, gripping her bass.
“No one was looking at her nose,” the drummer said and then hit the drums, badumptsch.
“We aren’t setting up in the lobby,” a woman with a tight bun and sleek skirt suit said, coming up and giving us all an evil eye.
“Hey, Janice. Where are we at?” the long-haired guitarist asked.
“Heaven.”
All the musicians got big-eyed. “That’s not a musical venue; that’s a club. Is there a DJ involved? I hate those egomaniacal sons of—”
“No DJ, Hawkins, just an exemplary light show with dancers. They’ll be working with us tomorrow. Dani… Pinkie…I wasn’t told exactly what your name is.” She narrowed her eyes at me, and I got that prostitute vibe again.
My heart pounded. Could I actually perform under my own name? My grandfather would find out, and it would be over. “Just Dani. Pinkie is what my friends call me.” Did I consider Dirk my friend? Apparently.
“I see. Come into Heaven. You’ll have to get accustomed to playing on a moving platform.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Also, your instrument will be white like your costume. This is heaven, after all.”
Heaven was the club portion of Providence, and it was absolutely bizarre.
It was like walking into the clouds if you gilded them.
A moving sunset sky swept across the domed ceiling.
The walls subtly glowed with diffuse light that made everyone look younger and happier.
There were two tiers of balconies circling the perimeter, and glass elevators every twenty feet.
“It’s sacrilegious,” the short-haired girl with way too many piercings in her face said, looking around in awe.
“Thank you for your input, Ziggy. Any other comments before we begin?” Janice asked.
I raised my hand. “This platform I’m supposed to play on. It’s not that, is it?” I asked, pointing to the tiny circle twenty-five feet in the air.
“Yes, Dani. That is the platform. It’ll only be moving periodically.
When you’re playing your solo pieces, it will be lower with all the spotlights on you.
It’ll only move during more lively pieces where the other musicians play their own parts, so you don’t have to worry about precision.
I know it’s difficult to play on a moving platform, but don’t worry, everything will be dubbed.
If you have any problems with the pieces in the lineup, we’ll get a backup cellist to cover for you during recording. ”
I opened my mouth and closed it. There were so many issues there that I didn’t know where to start.
Moving wasn’t the problem; it was hanging from the ceiling high above everyone else that was the issue.
Did I not mention my fear of heights in my counseling session?
I’m pretty certain I had. Maybe this was more unconventional treatment that a complete jerk would give me.
If I fell off the stupid thing, hopefully I'd land on Horse and break his neck.
Second, my backup cellist would have prerecorded the music?
What kind of abomination was this supposed to be?
I’d stupidly thought that rehearsing with other musicians would be the difficult part, but no, it was coming out of the wall on a flying electronic Pegasus with flapping wings and then descending to the overlapping platforms to the large one where I’d be playing with the other musicians.
Not that I’d actually be playing. I had a smaller circle in the center of the larger one that would rise and move around for absolutely no rational reason just to keep me on my toes. Had someone put aerialist on my resume?
I wasn’t supposed to do anything I didn’t want to do, right? So why would I be in the middle of this situation where I wanted to perform for me, but was forced to do all sorts of things I absolutely hated?
What did I want most? This was a private club, a private party.
If the whole thing was a disaster, I could forget it ever happened and go back to playing solo in my soundproof bedroom, but not if I wasn’t actually playing.
That would have to change. If it went well, if it somehow ended up being cool, Dirk would have a front-row seat.
He’d also see that I was fine with heights.
I’d done hard things I didn’t want to do, so I could do hard things that I wanted to try.
But it couldn’t be recorded. That meant I would have to do some villainous manipulation.
When we finally got set up on the large platform only four feet above the floor, I sat on my stool with the electric cello between my knees on the slightly raised personal platform thinking my own thoughts.
Janice handed out a list, but no music, just a title with a key. I’d heard of some of these songs thanks to Toni’s influence, but others were completely out of my wheelhouse.
“Am I supposed to pretend to play along with every song?” I asked.
Janice frowned at me. “You are part of the band, aren’t you? You are the soloist. Instead of a singer, there’s you.” She pointed to the guitarist. “Are there songs without the singer, Hawkins? No,” she answered for him.
I really didn’t like her. “Thank you for answering my question. A simple yes would suffice.”
Her eyes narrowed. I’d used my villain voice on her. That’s what Toni called it. I was going to call her as soon as this was over and tell her all about Janice. She’d help me plot her demise, and it would involve fire ants.
“You think you’re clever because you got a starring role without a portfolio?
Try to keep up with the other musicians, Pinkie.
Just because you’re dubbed doesn’t mean that you don’t need to work.
If you don’t earn it, you’ll make yourself and your fellow band members a laughingstock.
Rehearse until twelve-thirty. Lunch will be catered.
The day will end at six. You’ll be paid seventy per hour after the concert. Cash.” She turned and walked off.
Hawkins let out a low whistle once she was off the floor.
“Janice doesn’t like you, or she’d be even ruder.
Too bad she likes me so much. Relax, Pinkie.
You’re surrounded by, well, not the best musicians in town, but most of the really gifted ones aren’t as reliable or good at working with others.
We all know how to pull our weight and make allowances for the weaknesses of others.
If you can’t handle a song, we’ll help you out.
That’s what we do. And like she says, someone’s working on the dubbing while we speak, probably Phil. He’s good.”
I laughed and shook my head. Everyone thought that I got this gig by sleeping around. How bizarre. “Phil may be good, but live is better. Live is essential. We’ve got three days to get this down. We will kill it.”
They stared at me. I’d definitely used my villain voice at the end there, like I really would kill someone. I smiled brightly and started playing scales. They loosened up as we tuned up together.
They were too good for it to be called a disaster, but I struggled, trying to find a way to play around these other musicians when their group was already so tight.
Yes, they sounded good and made me sound good by covering me up, but that wasn’t the point.
I learned the songs, copying the keyboard when I got lost.
When we broke for lunch, I was no closer to finding my way to somehow stand out without sticking out.
Lunch was lobster. The other musicians got into it, making a real mess while I wished I had my briefcase so I could write notes in my music.
Hawkins leaned forward and smiled at me. “You’re a solid musician.”
I snorted. “No, I’m not. This entire performance is so generic. No wonder they need floating platforms. The music can’t hold its own.”
They all looked at me as if I’d personally insulted each one of them. I wanted them to work with me, so I had to work for them. “My performance. Playing a melody line doesn’t seem worthy of a solo.”
“You’re pretty, and no doubt the costume will show off your body,” Ziggy said. “What there is of the costume.” She sounded glum.
“If you want to wear a white suit, I’ll back you up,” I told her.
She glanced at me, eyes widening. “You must be in bed with someone good if you’ve got that kind of pull.”
Did Horse tell everyone that I was sleeping with him? No, he didn’t need to say it for people to assume that I’d sell my body to get what I wanted. Apparently, I just had that prostitute look. My stomach twisted into knots, but I forced a smile. “It’s more of a couch than a bed. You’ll get paid.”
She patted my pink hair. “If you can do that, you’ll have my respect.”
“So, you won’t touch my head? Why does everyone do that?”
She snorted and grinned at Hawkins. “I take it back. She’s not that bad.”