The Prelude (13 page)

“It’ll be alright, Mother. We’ll be fine,” I say, putting my arm across her shoulders. “Let me be the one to find a way to make everything right for us this time. You’ve spent your lifetime worrying about our wellbeing. It’s my turn to stand up and prove myself as a man.”

* * *

At practice that evening, I hammer my frustrations out on the players. One of the violas keeps hitting a flat note, and the keyboardist can’t keep up with the drummer. My tuba player keeps arguing with my oboe guy, and the cymbal girl came in complaining about her hangover.

Add to that list of things to drive me insane: Nikolai’s lead dancer called in and said she fell down a flight of steps. Now she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to perform at all over the next couple of months. Our sneak preview happens in a little over a week. And I’m honestly starting to doubt my superhero powers right about now.

I lean over on my podium and take several deep breaths. I need to see Erin. She hasn’t shown up yet. I’ve called her cell phone almost a hundred times. I even know all of the words to the Katy Perry song that plays on her line while you wait for a live voice to answer.

Plus, I want to avoid another run-in with Frederico. He’s guaranteed to come out of the confrontation minus a few front teeth if he starts his criticizing shit with me today.

Even with all of that going on, rehearsal continues and something about the melody in the
Ghosts Falling
track, an upbeat tune I chose specifically for the dancers, keeps falling flat.

“That’s flat enough to hurt Leonardo Da Vinci’s ears. And he’s a fucking statue,” I scold, referring to the one that sits just outside La Scala’s entrance. “Again.” I lift my baton and motion toward the drummer who has to do a solo before the violins chime in to the
Meltdown
song. This is the most important part of the pre-show next weekend.

The next attempt doesn’t get any better than the last ten tries. My blood boils, and I’m still in the process of coming down off of an anger high that my brother caused.

I cut my baton through the air, signaling for everyone to stop playing. “I don’t get it. I just do not understand at all. That was weak! Does anyone here realize we have a pre-show next week?” I wait to hear an answer. Silence. I can almost feel the fear rising from within the ensemble. I take a deep breath and wave the signal for the players to start again. The clarinet section now has someone who’s playing too sharply. I can’t take this shit right now!

“Stop! You’re killing me. Take a fucking break!” I storm out of the auditorium, slamming through the doors leading into the hallway. Dmitri always has had balls of steel, but to come here and frighten Mother into tears meant he threw some hard punches before I got there. The enemies he mentioned could be anyone. Father has a string of people that he’s pissed off. Funny how the past never disappears the way people say it does. No, the past is like a ghost, always returning to haunt you, always picking the moment when you’re on top of your game. Ready to make you fall even harder the second time it knocks your ass down, because you have that much more to
lose.

Erin catches up with me before I get the chance to ram my fist through a wall. I didn’t even see her enter the building.

“Alek. What the hell is wrong with you? You had the whole group almost in tears?” she says, walking up to me.

“Back off, Erin. I’ve had enough people telling me what to do today,” I snap, regretting my words right away.

“Hey! No problem,” she says and turns around. I reach out, grabbing her by the elbow, and pull her into my arms, embracing her.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you that way.
Forgive me for being an ass,” I whisper in her ear, unable to control my gasping breath. She feels sinfully good in my arms. I never want to let her go.

The woman standing here with me is real. There are no hidden agendas with Erin. To find such beauty and talent has been the greatest moment of my life. But she’s guarded and continues to push me away. A small part of me feels rejected which plays a role in the reason why I snapped at her and everybody else today.

We move back and stare at each other. I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to ease out of my arms.

“Let’s run away together,” I suggest.

“What? You’re being silly. Nikolai would find you and skin both of us alive for leaving him with all of this,” she answers, a grin spreading across her face.

“Only for a little while. I need to clear my head. Please. I don’t want to scare off my entire group by being a tyrant.” I’m begging. No, honestly, I’m dying to be with her right now; and if she turns me down, then I’ll never survive the rejection.

She studies my face a short moment. I think she’s about to say no. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

I consider her question. The perfect idea rushes into my head. “I know a spot. Have you had lunch?” She shakes her head. “Great. We’re going to put Hagar to good use.” I shoot a text to Nikolai, asking him to take my place as rehearsal master for the day. He agrees without question, as I knew he would.

I place my arm across Erin’s shoulders and lead her outside to Hagar’s limo. She doesn’t ask any questions as we stop by Luini’s and pick up enough panzerotti, pizza dough filled tomatoes and mozzarella cheese, for both of us. Hagar drives us toward the Parco Sempione, a 700-acre park where we can easily get lost while having lunch.

We settle down on a blanket in an open area surrounded by evergreen bushes and trees. The sun provides the perfect backdrop to erase thoughts of an all around shitty day. And Erin becomes the eye candy I need
to remind me of the lifestyle I seem to have left behind. “You’re picking at your lunch,” I say to crush the silence between us. She gives me a side glance and a tiny smile.

“
I’m not very hungry.” Setting her fork down, she pulls her knees up against her chest. I’m not sure why, but for some reason that small gesture makes me think of the day she danced for Nikolai and me. She could easily put any professional ballerina to shame.

“What were you thinking about when you danced for me a couple of weeks ago,” I ask, eager to hear her response. She hesitates a moment, taking so long with her answer that I wonder if she’s going to say anything.

“I was thinking about how the song you chose reminded me of...the ballet classes I used to take,” she answers, shrugging. “Why do you ask?”

“You meant to say something else.”

A sad smile is the only response I get. The sun bearing down on her dark hair highlights a few reddish strands. I can’t take it any longer. I’ve earned my good-guy badge. Now, the dark side of me wants to have a go at things. I lean over and kiss her lightly on her lips.

At first, she doesn’t move or try to stop me. I’m about ready to get in the doghouse when she slowly moves her lips in a motion that barely caresses mine. The kiss only lasts for a few seconds. But I swear this is the first time I’ve ever kissed a woman and felt fireworks going off in my body. It feels as though something has gone wrong with my bodily functions. It must have. What other way is there to describe what I’m feeling?

At once, she moves back, gasping. “Why did you do that?” I feel like a little kid who got his hand smacked for screwing around with some kind of rare, exotic fruit.

“I’m attracted to you, Erin. I know you can see that.” I really want to say: just look at the bulge in my pants. That’s all for you, baby!

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you just reach over here and take what you want. Makes me feel…awkward.”

“Awkward? I’ve never had a woman tell me something like that before,” I say, running a hand through my hair. The statement earns me a sarcastic, but amused look.

“Oh, I’ll bet you haven’t. Well, this woman prefers the asking-permission first method.”

“Alright. Do I have permission to kiss you, Erin?”

She bursts out laughing, her little body trembling. Me, well I can feel the heat easing in from the tip of my ears, scorching a path across my face. “What’s so funny?”

Releasing one last sigh, she glances at me. “You are so used to having your way with women, Alek. I can tell. Do you even know what the word romantic means?”

“I’m not sure that I do. You can teach me.”

She stares at me a long moment. And then her blank eyes take on a look of longing again. “I can’t teach anyone about something like that. And I don’t do the kissing on the lips thing, either.”

“What? Why not?” I ask, moving to sit a little closer to her. I don’t want to freak her out again, but she intrigues me.

“It’s personal. I just—that kind of thing isn’t for me.”

I want so badly to move the stray hairs blowing in the wind away from her face. Ever since we met, I’ve wondered what her hair would look like if she let it hang loose from the bumpy bun thing she loves so well.

But Erin Angelo is like a baby bird, the kind that has fallen out of the nest before it had the chance to be nurtured and was able to spread its wings. Now the little bird sits all alone, waiting for someone to say “you can fly.”

“Don’t ever be afraid to try something new, Erin.”

“I’m not scared,” she says firmly. But then she scoffs a small laugh and says, “Maybe I’m a little scared at times.”

I reach out and touch her face. This time she doesn’t pull back. What can it hurt? I tuck the loose hairs behind her ears. Erin closes her eyes as I graze the side of her cheek. And then, she opens them and gives me a sad smile. God how I wish I could take away the pain in those dark eyes of hers. But I don’t want to frighten her by coming on too strongly. I can be patient, for now.

I lace my fingers with hers and wait for her to say something to put me in my place. She doesn’t. Instead, she shakes her head and playfully rolls her eyes. I grin like a kid. Now, that I’ve stolen the fruit, I’m running away with it too.

Erin

I better grab the mail before I forget about it. My thoughts keep drifting back to one  handsomely Maestro and the way he kept on touching me at the park earlier today. No matter how hard I try I just can't seem to get a handle on anything else.

I open my front door and scream, a blood-chilling one like the shrieks from a horror movie. In return, Adriana belts one out too. I didn’t expect anyone to be standing outside the door, and especially not Alek’s sister. I catch my breath and check for my pulse. I do still have one, but barely.

I take a good look at what she’s holding. Overnight bags, three super huge ones. There are also two suitcases sitting on either side of her little body and she’s eyeing me as though I’m about to scream again.

“Adriana. What’s going on?” I ask, scanning her bags and still trying to catch my breath.

She shuffles on her feet and tilts her head to the side. I’ve learned these two gestures means that she’s nervous.

“My roommate moved out. I’m all alone in that big, scary apartment now. And—and, well…Would it be all right if I crash with you for a while? I mean, you live all alone too, you know,” she finally manages to say.

“Okay. Come inside, now,” I order and move to pick up the two suitcases she’s not able to carry because of all the handbags swinging from her body. We keep going until we get to the living room. I sit her bags down and turn to face her. “Explanation, please.”

“It’s creepy living all by myself. I thought you could use the company,” she explains, her eyes pleading. I feel like there’s more to her story. She takes a seat across from me.

“Before I tell you that it’s fine to move in here for a while, I want to make sure Alek didn’t put you up to this.” I throw it right out there. I’ve seen the way both Alek and Adriana are always glancing around when we’re out in public. I have the feeling that this latest request has a bit more to do with my hunch than Adriana’s loneliness.

“Why would he do something like that? He’s the last person I want to know about this. Take that back, Mother is the last person who needs to know.”

“Why?” I ask, shrugging.

“How can you ask that question? You’ve seen the way she has to control everything.”

“You’ve got a point. That’s for sure.”

“Please, Erin. I’ll only stay for a couple of weeks.”

She has conveniently avoided my statement about Alek, but  I’m a softie when it comes to his sister. “You know I’m not going to tell you no, right?” At once, I’m attacked by arms and handbags and the aroma of peach body spray. I peel Adriana’s arms away from me. “But, just so you know, I do expect the real explanation, at some point.”

“You got it,” she answers in an excited voice. “I’ll be as quiet as a church mouse. Well, except when I need to practice. I hope you don’t mind classical music.”

If only she knew. “I grew up in a house full of musicians,” I answer. “We listened to everything from Bach to Shirley Caesar to Guns-N-Roses, okay? So don’t worry. I’m good.”

“That’s so cool. I was worried. Some people think classical music is only for old people, you know,” she explains.

“Yeah, I do. Well, your room’s going to be the second one on the right. Just move all of my sketches and things I have in there to the side.” She grabs her bags and heads down the hallway, just before my cell phone rings.