by Daisy Allen
We’re all on our feet. Bodies sweaty from dancing, spirits full and satisfied from the musical feast we’ve had. I wring my hands to stop them from reaching out to Sebastian as he moves off the stage, his eyes locking with mine for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips.
I can’t help but wonder if this is the last time I’ll ever see him. And the idea fills me with a terror that is disproportionate to the time I’ve known him. Which only makes me more afraid.
The stage is empty and the chorus starts to build. “Encore, encore, encore!” Sarah shouts at the top of her lungs along with the crowd.
I hold my breath.
Anything for more.
The yells and claps start even before I notice him come on stage.
He’s alone.
His cello in one hand he walks to the microphone.
“This is for someone. She knows who she is.”
I vaguely feel a pain in my arm that I guess is Sarah digging her nails into my biceps.
But I don’t care. He’s moved his chair right up to the edge of the stage and in front of my seat.
He runs his hand through his sweaty fringe, pushing it back from his forehead and he stares at me for a second before closing his eyes, and pulls his bow across the strings.
I don’t know what I expect but it wasn’t this.
Within seconds, I and the entire audience double over in laughter as the song emanating from his cello is the one and only Carly Jae Jepsen classic “Call Me Maybe”.
I look up at him through laughter-induced tears and he has the most camp look on his face as he sings along with the crowd “Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me maybe.” At one point he stops playing and mimes the phone up against his ear, using the old rotary dialing telephone and the audience erupts into even louder hysteria.
And then, without missing a step, he puts the imaginary phone down and starts to play again, this time, it’s The Police’s “Every Breath You Take”.
The way he plays it, it sounds like it was made to be a cello solo. It’s haunting and beautiful, soulful and somber. It’s perfection.
I feel my hands clasp each other and rest against my chin as I watch him. Drinking in everything about him, his movements, his facial expressions, his breaths.
I don’t want it to end.
But it does.
And the applause is louder than anything we’ve heard that night.
He stands and winks to me, pulls something from his pocket and throws it to me.
It’s the cello rosin box. I open it and take the jar of amber balm out and see it’s wrapped in a piece of paper. I unfold the paper and mouth the words written there, “See me backstage, maybe?”
I look up at the stage and he’s gone.
I guess he made it up to me after all.
Chapter Seven
SEBASTIAN
I run off the stage to the sound of the applause so loud I can’t even hear my footsteps stomping on the metal staircase leading down to the backstage.
The sights around me are a blur, my heart’s beating so fast I’m trying to take deep breaths to stop it from thumping right out of my chest. The combination of ending the show, and the performance for Cadence have me reeling. The head rush is better than the drugs we used to think we were so cool for trying.
A hard thump on my back stops me on my way to the backstage door where I’m hoping she’ll be waiting for me.
“Ma-ate!” Dennis grins at me. It’s really the only time he’s ever really happy, when a show’s gone well and he can relax for five minutes before the next one. “That was phenomenal.”
I grin back at him, his happy face a welcome sight compared to the sourpuss he can be when we’re on tour. “Thanks, man.”
“That thing with the girl...gold. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do that? I woulda made sure we had some cameras on you.”
“Um, it was just spur of the moment.” Except that I’d always planned to do it...for the right person.
“Great, great...you seemed so romantic even I wanted to give you a big ol’ kiss on the mouth.”
I wrap him up in a big hug. For all the stress he gives us, I know he’s all heart when it comes to us and the band. Then I kiss him on the cheek and he pushes me away with a big growl!
“Hey! None of that...we gotta keep up the image that you’re a single lothario!”
“Oh, no, Dennis, everyone knows I’ve only got eyes for you!” We laugh and grab each other in a hug again, the high from the show still streaming through our veins.
“Come on, everyone’s waiting for you in the greenroom.” He pulls on my arm.
Not everyone, I think to myself. But I know he won’t take no for an answer. I figure I’ll make an appearance and then slip out. It should take her a few minutes to get backstage anyway.
“Lead the way, Big D!”
We race to the greenroom and yank the door open.
The usual sight greets us. Something between a high school party and a low rate opium den in Amsterdam. Young, pretty girls crammed into every inch, the lights are off, only the glow from the TV illuminates the sweaty bodies in the room.
“SEBASTIAN! SEBASTIAN! SEBASTIAN!” The boys raise their voices in a chant and the twenty other people crammed into the tiny smoke-filled room follow along.
“Yes, boys, I am Sebastian.” I play along when the chant dies down. “Your God hath arrived, and your wish is my command!”
A paper cup thwacks me on the side of the head. “We wish for more ice!” Marius yells out from under a pile of arms and legs and blonde hair.
A loud cheer erupts and I notice Jez in the corner with each of his arms wrapped around a girl’s shoulders. He grins at me and whispers something to one of them before getting up and following me out to the hallway.
“Hey, you all right?” He asks me.
I nod, “I guess I don’t have to ask how you’re doing?”
He shrugs and gives me a lopsided smile, “Can’t complain. These Australian girls are wild. Can we move here?”
“You say that now, but two weeks from now I look out the window and you’ll be hanging onto the wing of the first Qantas flight out of here.”
“There’s a beauty in there, Mandy. Fits right in with the Sebastian type. Want me to introduce you?”
“Nah, mate, I’m...a, I’m a little tired. Not used to the long shows yet.”
He peers at me a little worried. “You sure you’re OK? It’s not that girl, Cadence, right? That’s just you having a bit of fun?”
“Yeah, yeah. No, seriously, just gonna have a quick nightcap and head back to the hotel, I think.” Hopefully not alone, I don’t add.
“Ok, man, take it easy. I’m gonna...” he gestures with his head back to the room.
“Go back to work?”
“It’s a hard job, mate.” He grins and punches me on the shoulder lightly before slipping back into the room.
I put the ice bucket down and catch my reflection in one of the mirror doors.
I’m a mess. Sweat dripping from every pore, my hair doing some sort of bird nest impersonation, my shirt drenched.
“Not sexy.” I say to my mirror image.
I check my watch; I should have enough time to quickly change into another shirt. On my way to my dressing room, I pass Mark, our head of security.
“Mark! I’m just getting refreshed in my dressing room. If a girl comes looking for me, just send her there, OK!”
He grins and I roll my eyes at him. Our security team is used to our playboy ways on the road by now, but it’s been a while since I had someone come to my dressing room compared to the other guys, so he’s obviously getting a little bit more of a kick out of it than usual.
I rip the shirt off me even before I get to the door. Pulling the leather pants off my legs, I kick them into the corner and jump around a bit to air dry the sweat clinging to my skin.
There’s a knock on the door.
Fuck, that wa
s quick. The butterflies in my stomach are both surprising and refreshing. And I try not to focus on them as I pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
“Just a sec! I’m just getting decent!”
I run my hands through my hair as I get to the door and pull it open.
“Hey,” she says.
And for a moment, my mind goes completely blank.
CADENCE
“OMG!” Sarah squeals in my ear reading the note from Sebastian over my shoulder. “What are you going to do?”
I glare at her to scare her into lowering her voice. I’m already getting enough daggers and curious looks from the audience around me as the lights go up and everyone gets up to leave.
I sink down into my chair, blankly watching everyone else crowd into the aisles, emptying the hall.
What am I going to do? That’s a good question.
Is it? I ask myself again.
When have I ever thought that going backstage to meet some rockstar like a seventeen-year-old groupie was a good idea? Well, maybe when I was a seventeen-year-old groupie, but life has knocked that desire right out of me and it’s been a long time since I’d been interested in any man let alone one that was 100% bound to break my heart.
“Dude. You’re not actually considering not going?” Sarah looks at me in horror. I can only imagine how the concept would horrify her romantic sensibilities. She watches dog weddings on YouTube and cries, for god’s sake.
But Sarah and I are a world apart. She married her high school sweetheart and I have more baggage than the luggage carousel at Sydney International Airport. And until today, I hadn’t had any problems sticking with my vow to avoid any and all relationships if possible. Until today, that is, until something, someone, came along and made the risk almost worth it. Almost.
“Sare, seriously. What do we think’s going to happen here? At most we have some short fling while he’s in Oz and a week from now I’m waving forlornly with my face pressed against the window as his private plane flies away and by the next news cycle I see him going to some awards show with a Kardashian?” I ask her, airing my worst fears.
“Whoa. How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Too long!!” I admit to her.
She sighs and sits down next to me, pulling on my arm and making me face her.
“Honey. Did you have a good time tonight?”
I look her in the eye and I can’t lie. “Yes.” I tell her, because I did.
l’d loved it. Everything. I’d loved everything about the evening. The going out, the spending time with my friend, the music, the attention from the sexy, crazy talented man.
“And would you have had fun tonight if I hadn’t made you come out?” She presses.
I scrunch my face up, because we both know the answer. “No.”
“And ... do you like him?”
She knows she doesn’t have to ask the question. Just as I know I don’t need to answer it. We both know I haven’t had this kind of connection with a man in a long time.
“So, just trust me, you need this. Don’t I know you better than anyone?” She dares me to challenge her. The list of people who really know me at all is short, but she really is at the top of it, so I just nod.
“So take a chance! If it all goes to shit, I’ll be the first one over with a tub of hazelnut ice cream and a spoon.”
I take a deep breath. She’s right. I’ve been in hibernation, in hiding too long. I never wanted to be this person, this person who was afraid to live. I had to leave the past behind.
“Ahhhh! Let’s go!” I leap out of the seat, clutching the rosin box and note in my hand.
“Woohooo!” She yells with excitement and follows me to the backstage door.
***
“Yeah, just turn the corner and it’s the third door on your left. “ The giant wall of man labeled ‘Mark’ tells me, before winking and adding, “It’s a popular destination tonight.”
I frown and glance at Sarah. She just shrugs and pushes gently on my back.
“Come on, babe. What do you expect, he’s an important guy around here.”
That’s exactly what I was afraid of.
“Wait.” Sarah grips my arm to stop me for a moment. She runs her fingers through my hair fluffing it up a little.
“Thanks, MOM!” I stick my tongue out at her playfully, secretly glad she is here. I wouldn’t be brave enough to do this on my own.
“Not done yet,” she cups the underside of my breasts and bounces them up a bit.
“Hey!” I push her hands away and she pouts.
“Just helping!”
“Yeah, helping yourself, more like!”
She grins, not denying it. “You look beautiful. But he already knows that. What he might not know is how unpunctual you are. Come on!”
We turn the corner and come to a screaming halt.
He’s standing at his doorway, his body wrapped around a stunning, tall, blonde woman.
We watch as they pull apart, gazing at one another, unable to take their eyes off the other person. The look seems to last forever, and then they pull each other into a long tight hug again, and then he pulls her into his room to the sound of her soft laughter and shuts the door.
I can hear Sarah holding her breath next to me.
“Don’t say it.” I softly beg her.
“Say what?” She asks softly.
“Say, I should go up there anyway.”
“Ok. I wasn’t going to.”
“Just give me a minute.”
“Ok.”
I take a breath and will myself to walk to his door. Each step is harder than the last but it’s only ten more and I count them in my head. I stand outside for a second, staring at his name printed on the sheet stuck on the door, wondering how my life might’ve been different, if I’d been the one on the other side of the door, and it saddens me more than I expect. I crouch down and leave the box of rosin and the note on the floor and walk back to my friend and out of Sebastian’s life.
Chapter Eight
CADENCE
The school orchestra erupts into their finale.
One, two, three, four, my baton keeps the time while I gesture to the brass section to keep their build on the crescendo...hold it...hold it...my hand directs them...and go!
They break into an almost chaotic burst of sound. Almost. But these kids aren’t the best in this school for nothing. Controlled but fierce. They bring the epic piece to a breathtaking halt.
We all hold our breaths as the sounds fade.
Then Greyson, the first flute, jumps up and says what we’re all thinking, “Yeehaw, we all finished at the same time!”
I can’t help but join them in their laughter. But my heart weighs a little heavy with the news I’m about to have to give them.
“Great job, everyone. That was probably our best run-through yet!” I smile at them, just wanting to give them a moment to enjoy the progress they’ve made in the last two months. Putting in the extra rehearsals and even one-on-one time with me to perfect their individual parts and solos. “Kids, before you go, there’s just some news.”
The noise from their packing up stops. They know me pretty well and I guess they can hear the apprehension in my voice.
“As you know, the band trip to the Nationals is going to cost a lot. We’ve applied for our full orchestra which is almost fifty of you. So, that’s, well, it’s a lot.”
“Miss Bray...”
“Just a sec, Greyson. The school isn’t normally budgeted for the trip, mostly since this is the first time we’ve made it to Nationals for a long time. So, look, we’re trying to get the money, it’s just not a given yet.”
“How bad is it, Miss Bray?”
“Honestly, at this point, I’m not going to lie to you, it’s not looking great. But I don’t want you to give up. I promise you guys, I’m going to do whatever it takes, OK? We haven’t worked so hard for nothing! OK, guys?”
I get a small murmur in response.
“Come on, guys, you can do better than that. You with me, guys?”
“YES, MISS BRAY!”
“That’s better. So kids, get outta here and don’t think we’re not having an extra rehearsal this weekend.”
I give each of the kids a smile as they march out, instruments and bags in hand. I can tell my news is weighing heavily on them. Five years ago, the school didn’t even have a music program. After I came here as a substitute teacher and heard how some of the kids wanted to learn the piano, I started to teach them in groups after school.
Slowly more and more kids came out of the woodwork. Some with no music training at all, some whose parents were driving an hour out of the way for practical and theory classes because the school wasn’t providing them.
Together with Sarah, who was also new at the school, we applied and were granted a small music budget for the school. And the more the music program grew, the more students were wanting to join and learn. Too many than the small grants could stretch to. But I didn’t have the heart to say no to them. How do you say no to a child who is begging you to learn something that you can teach them? But the school could barely afford new resources for the library and computer labs, and as too often is the case, music and art are viewed as luxuries.
So the last five years have been scrimping and saving. The music program students and I on the weekends, out washing cars and selling chocolates. Buying hand-me-down instruments at yard sales and barely readable orchestral scores. But those things didn’t matter to me, and it didn’t matter to the kids. All that mattered was we could get together and make music.
Five years ago, there was nothing and now the school’s orchestra has beaten every other school in their region and earned their spot in the Nationals. The only thing that was going to stop that bus leaving for Canberra was my dead body.
I walk around the music room, tucking in the chairs and putting away the music stands. I run my fingers over the old baby grand piano left to us by a benefactor in his will who had a grandchild who attended the school. I sit down and wiggle around on the stool, enjoying the squeaks and creaks it makes as I get comfortable.