22. Daniel
DANIEL
The next morning, the sound of one of Brahms’s violin sonatas fills my suite as I shave.
The rising crescendo weaves into my soul and wraps fierce tendrils around my heart, pumping it with blood, with oxygen, with passion.
And as I slide the blade across my jaw, I imagine conducting an orchestra, leading them through the stormy, impassioned fourth movement.
I can hear every chord perfectly, every broken chord too, can feel the frenzied, virtuosic soul of Violin Sonata 3.
This one is lyrical—fevered, even—and it reminds me of last night with Sage.
That is no surprise.
They all do. Every sonata, every symphony, every piece of masterful music returns me to a particular place.
Or rather, the opposite is more true.
Every night I’ve ever enjoyed with a woman brings me back to music.
A lovely, clever, open-minded woman is like a Stradivarius. Precious. Rare. Capable of producing incomparable beauty.
Capable of touching that part of my soul that can’t be touched anymore. The part that is black.
As the music thunders, I slide the razor across my jaw one last time while a deep and potent longing burrows into my soul.
And as it does, the ache starts again. An all too familiar ache.
For all the things I once wanted. All the things I once held dear.
But no matter.
I wash the blade, set it down, and shake off the futile wishes, the never-to-be-fulfilled wants.
I get dressed for the day.
Once I’m in a suit, I grab my phone, click on an email, and find one from Jane Black’s manager.
Yes .
This is brilliant.
The start of a terrific plan.
Plans like this, nights rich with pleasure—they all play their part in my life. In giving me the only things I need now. The only things I want.
As I walk down the hall toward the lift, I call the manager back. We chat, catching up on the latest goings-on for the Grammy-winning rock star, then I confirm her for a two-week residency.
When I tell Cole, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.
Just another way for us to stay ahead of the competition. The competition he’s falling in love with.
Of that I’m certain.
I’m certain, too, that they won’t realize they’re falling in love unless they fall into hate again.