No Strings Attached (10 page)

It didn't take much for me to figure out exactly what door to open. As the music played, I gravitated toward it. I paused outside, not wanting to draw their attention while they played, so I waited for a break in the music, which came much too soon for my nerves to have calmed down at all.

I winced when the door creaked on its hinges as I slipped inside the room to take a seat at the back. For all intents and purposes, the room was set up like an auditorium, and I immediately thought of the nights we played in high school. It may have been a different building, but the feel and smell were the same.

Thayre glanced at me from his place on stage but continued talking to the other musicians. As he did, I noted the baton in his hand, the stand of music in front of him and the violin case at his feet. I'd half expected him to wear a suit to practice, and was somewhat disappointed to see him in a button-down shirt and slacks.
Casual but professional.

With a wave of his hands, the music started up again, the very gentle melody vibrating off the surrounding walls. At the moment, each of the musicians was playing a stringed instrument. Even though Thayre had said they were accompanied by other sound groups, I didn't see them on or around the stage.

The music stopped again, and Thayre dismissed the players for what I assumed was a short recess. He dug into a duffle bag on one of the front seats, pulled out a water bottle, then came to join me.

“Be honest,” he said after taking a swig. “What did you think?”

I scratched my head. “Honestly? You need more instruments. Where was the bass or the trance you played for me in your studio?”

He put the cap on his water and tucked the bottle under his arm. “We'll be meeting with everyone else next Wednesday. Right now, I'm trying to get our introductions planned out. They need a bit of work since we're one violin short.”

I shook my head. “You aren't going to let up on that, are you?”

“Not so long as I see an opportunity in front of us, no.”

“Is that why you invited me here today? To prove to me that I'm needed?” I crossed my legs, but my poor attempt at looking casual wasn't nearly as successful as I would've liked.

Thayre raised his eyebrows at me. “Ulterior motives? Me? You clearly have the wrong guy.” He paused and rubbed the bit of stubble on his chin. “Still, I wouldn't be against the possibility of you coming here, seeing us play and, maybe, get drawn into the music enough to want to join us. Just for fun, of course.”

“Right, and I guess walking out of here without trying isn't an option.”

“It is, but knowing you, you'd probably regret it.”

“Damn.” I uncrossed my legs and stood. “I hate it when you're right.”

He leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. “Better get used to it. It happens a lot around here.” He lifted his gaze, then glanced at the stage as the other players returned to their seats. “Care to join us?”

I winced, but seeing as I was already here... “Sure. Why not?”

“That's the spirit!”

Thayre led me down the center aisle and helped me up on stage once he'd put his water in his duffle bag. There must've been around fifteen players sitting in front of us, and every set of eyes were on me. Not Thayre.

“Hey, Gang, I want you to meet, Moyra, a good friend of mine.”

Their hushed whispers filled the otherwise quiet auditorium.

Confused, I glanced at Thayre. “You forget to tell me something?”

He shrugged, but the sheepish grin on his face removed whatever innocence he had left. “I may have shown them some of your work.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Forgive me?”

“For what?” I gave him the sternest look I could manage without laughing. “I don't even know what you did yet.”

The other players laughed but quieted once Thayre threw them a warning glare.

“Now now,” I said. “It's not their fault. What did you do?”

Thayre patted down the air. “Okay. Okay. They may have listened to that sample you made. A few times, actually.”

“And?”

He dropped his gaze and scuffed his shoe on the stage. “Ask them yourselves.”

I faced the players again, curling my toes to try and hide some of my anxiety. But every face I looked at was one of acceptance.

Tabby and I exchanged a glance, and her smile widened. “What do you call it?”

I frowned. “Call what?”

“Your song.”

“You know what? I didn't think to give it a title.”

“Then perhaps you should,” Thayre said, turning me to face him. “Because we'd love to do a cover of it. With your permission.”

A cover?
Of one of my songs?

You could always play it yourself.

In front of other people?

If my nerves weren't shot by now, they would be soon. It was bad enough that Jay had threatened to fire me for not showing up today, and while joining Thayre and the others to freaking play at Webster Hall was tempting as hell, there wasn't enough time. Not for them to learn the piece.

“There isn't enough time,” I finally said. “Doesn't it usually take months to perfect a piece?”

“It can, but only if the conductor doesn't know what he's doing. Please, Moyra. This would be a wonderful addition to our set. You wouldn't have to play if you didn't want to.”

I stared at my feet, my eyes settling on the violin case I'd noticed earlier. Then, without giving it another thought, I picked the case off the ground and cradled it in my arms.

“And if I wanted to play?” I asked, mustering the most hopeful look possible.

“Are you serious?” Thayre took me in his arms. Then, holding me at arm's length, he said, “You are serious, right?”

I smiled at the case in my hands. “I probably won't have much of a job after today.”

His eyes widened, and he lowered his voice. “Want to talk about it?”

“Later, but I think we've bored your gang long enough, don't you?”

“Yes. Of course.” He took a breath and stepped back so I could situate myself. While I took Angie out of her case, Thayre instructed everyone else to get out their sheet music, which he apparently wrote up after listening to my piece one too many times. “We're ready when you are, Moyra.”

Rolling my shoulders, I looked over the music. Thayre had changed the keys and transitions in a few places, but other than that, it was the same. After lifting Angie and resting her between my shoulder and chin, I lifted my gaze to check on the other players. Bows were held out in front of their respective instruments, their eyes flitting between myself and the stands in front of them.

I took a breath and, to calm my nerves, I turned around to watch Thayre. He stood motionless in front of me, baton in hand.

“Ready?” he asked, offering me a reassuring smile.

“Ready as I'll ever be.”

“You want to sit down?”

“I'll stand.” Lowering my voice, I added, “Do I follow you or...”

“You can start. I'll direct once we get past the introduction. Just be yourself.”

Be myself, right.
I hadn't been myself for years.

Relax.

I closed my eyes. Opened them again to read over the sheet music, and as I did, I started to play. Outside of Thayre's sound studio, his violin wasn't nearly as loud as it could've been, but then, it wasn't plugged in, either.

My hands were clammy, and I gripped the bow to keep it from slipping.
Too many nerves.
I shivered as the other strings joined in, along with a trance track Thayre had started to play on a nearby stereo.

He took his place and, after holding up his hands, he did what conductor's did best. He set the tempo for the song, waving his baton to keep us all on track as some players faded in and others paused until he invited them in again.

When I wasn't reading the music, I was watching Thayre and the way he moved his arms.
Bet he's really good with a flogger, too.
I bit my bottom lip to keep from whimpering.
Can't think of that now.

I thought I hit a sour note, but if I did, no one else seemed to notice.
Come on, Moyra, focus.
I followed Thayre's hands. His
strong
hands, and the way he moved the baton in front of me. An image of Thayre, shirtless, crossed my mind, and it took everything I had to look at my music. My feet. Anything but Thayre.

My legs shook. My arms tried to do the same, but I fought back my nerves by swaying in place. I sidestepped. Twisted and turned, all the while keeping to the notes on that piece of sheet music.

By the time the song ended, I was out of breath and had to sit. The other players clapped and offered bits of encouragement as they packed up their things. Thayre didn't say a word. He stood in place, barely moving as he excused the other players until their next practice.

I held Angie in my lap, but it didn't seem to help the throbbing of my clit, or how much I wanted to see what Thayre could really do with those hands when everyone else wasn't watching him.

Once the stage was clear of extra bodies, he removed Angie from my lap, put her in her case, then finally turned to me and took me in his arms.

“That was...” He exhaled, releasing me moments later so I could stand up. “I don't even...you're so cute when you play.”

I looked at the floor. “I was nervous as hell.”
You still are.
For a completely different reason.

“You did great. Flawless. What was up with that jig, though?”

“Jig?”

“As you were playing, you danced.”

I shrugged and met his gaze. “Nerves. Too much energy. Had to get rid of it somehow.”

One eyebrow rose and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Think you can do it again?”

“Play in front of the other strings?”

“More like in front of the entire orchestra, not to mention your dance.”

“Oh, I have a feeling that dance is a onetime thing.”

“Well damn. I was hoping to add some nice flare to our show.”

Our show.
“Wait. What?”

“You did say you wanted to play with us.”

“I did, but, isn't there an audition or something?”

“What do you call what you just did?”

“And you're sure I'm not taking this spot from someone else?”

He shook his head and started to collect the sheet music, adding it to whatever else he had in that duffle bag of his. “If I had someone, I wouldn't have asked. Our next practice is on Wednesday, so if you could make it...”

I broke down a few of the stands, then worked on folding the chairs. “I'll try, no promises, though. I need to get things shifted around at work.”

“About that, you said something about not having a job?”

I stopped to look at him. “Jay was probably overreacting but he asked me to work today after firing one of the staff. Now I'm stuck with more hours, probably so I can train kids who'll bail on us after their first paycheck.”

“I know how that goes. We've had a few cases like that. Well, not after the first paycheck, but certainly the first time they played in front of an audience. Too much pressure for them I suppose. Would be nice if we could pinpoint the ones who'll stick around, you know?”

“If that was possible, there'd probably be no such thing as temporary or holiday pay.”

“True.” Returning to the stage, Thayre picked Angie's case off the floor, took his baton out of his back pocket and placed it inside the case before closing it again. “I think that's everything. I'm free until two if you want to do anything.”

I hugged my arms around myself to keep from shivering. “I was actually going to ask...” I dropped my gaze. “The other thing we talked about, I'd like to try.”

Something
thunked
on the stage, likely Thayre's violin case, as he set a hand under my chin. “Moyra, look at me.” I did. “Is this because you think you owe me something or—”

“It was your baton, actually.” I licked my lips, but I couldn't escape his fierce gaze. Heat rose in my cheeks. “It reminded me.”

He furrowed his brow. “You're sure.”

I nodded.

“Okay.”

“Really?”
That's it? No 'call me Master' or anything?

“But not today. Give yourself a day to think it over. When do you finish work tomorrow?”

“If I'm lucky? Seven or eight.”

“We'll make it eight-thirty, then. Text me once you're off work, and I'll meet you at your place.” I was about to ask why my little apartment instead of his house, but he beat me to it. “I'd prefer it if you were comfortable with the setting, so we'll start at your place and work from there.” He took my hand, collected his things, then guided me toward the door leading out into the hall. “For now, I'd like to hear what other ideas you might have for music.”

T
he following evening, I slipped out the back door at work before Jay could convince me to stay and close up while he went out and got drunk somewhere else. He may have seen me leave, or called after me, but I was too far in my own head to notice.

And at exactly eight-thirty-two, Thayre hit the buzzer at the ground level of my apartment building. I'd had an entire day for my nerves to settle, but they only got worse as the day went on. To me standing—no, scratch that—pacing inside my apartment.

Someone's footsteps approached the other side of the door. Passed it completely, continuing down the hall to, no doubt, ride the elevator to the lobby. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I paced a little faster. Headed for the kitchen, turned, then walked toward the hall leading to my bedroom.

On my third pass, I threw a glance at the digital clock above the television.
Eight thirty-three.

The knock on the door stopped me in my tracks. Turned my gaze.
Why am I so nervous?
It wasn't like this was our first date.

I opened and closed my hands, but they kept shaking. I suddenly felt as though I should've put something else on. Something not as revealing as the silk teddy I had lying around.

I opened the door, using it to shield myself from anyone else who may pass in the hall. Thayre wore a similar outfit to what he'd had on during practice, and remembering the way he directed the other musicians, my mouth watered.