by A. J. Marcus
Dale chuckled and nodded. “I should know better. We do the same thing with horses. He’s just so cute.”
“I know, but cute isn’t everything.” And Ed’s mind went back to the sexy satyr.
Chapter 9
Adrian set his flute down on its wooden stand and stared out his window, which looked out on Turtle Creek Park. The music was still flowing well, but there was something about it that didn’t translate right from the panpipes to his concert flute. On the pipes, even on one of the simple flutes he’d collected since he was a kid, the new piece he’d been working on since Sunday sounded wonderful, but when he tried to play it on his concert flute, it lost something. It fell flat. He’d tried making adjustments to the pitch and the tone, but it was almost like the piece wanted to be played on the more primitive instruments. It was something he’d never encountered before. Most music—every piece he could recall playing since high school—sounded better on higher-grade instruments, but this one—the first piece he’d composed in several years—was determined to be played on the simpler ones.
Stomping into the kitchen for a fresh glass of wine to wet his palate, the gray of his stainless steel fridge reminded him of an elephant. The thought of the elephant reminded him of Ed. Ever since the party, unless he was crafting music, he was thinking about Ed—how the man’s face lit up when he looked at or talked about his son, the way the light played off his short brown hair, giving it some odd red highlights, the deep laugh that sent waves of relaxation through Adrian.
The wine was sweet going down. It warmed him as it spread out through him. Through the open window, he could hear birds singing down in the park. Spring had come to north Texas. The cottonwood trees were budding; the birds were courting. It was too pretty of a day to stay in the house and worry over a silly piece of music. Even though it was the middle of the week, it was a good time to go out and see if anything interesting was happening in the park. Maybe he could find something to take his mind off the music and the elephant guy. On his way out the door, he snagged a small wooden flute and shoved it in his pocket, just in case the urge to play hit him while he walked.
As he strolled across the marble foyer of his apartment building, he spotted Sylvia Downing, from the symphony, walking toward him. “Hey, Sylvia, what are you up to?”
She smiled at him as she stopped and waited for him to reach her. “I was coming by to see how you’re doing. I was asking around this weekend and no one had heard from you, so I took it on myself to make sure you were still among the living.”
He smiled back. “Actually, I was just about to go take a stroll around the park. Care to join me?” Maybe talking with Sylvia will help me figure out why the music just isn’t working the way I want it to.
“Sure, you’re the reason I came, so why not. Beats sitting around in your overly elegant place, anyway.” She turned and offered him her arm as the doorman opened the big glass double doors for them.
“Are you trying to say my apartment is a bit too gay?” He laughed.
“It couldn’t be any more gay if you decorated in rainbows. At least you keep it stylish, not to mention all the musical stuff around. But yes, Adrian, your tastes do run more toward gay.”
They paused at the corner, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. “So how is my replacement handling my role?”
“He’s keeping it solemn as ever.” The light changed, and they walked leisurely across Turtle Creek Boulevard. “Everyone keeps saying your cadenza was better… not in Blankenship’s hearing, but when he’s not around.”
Adrian sighed. “If it had been anyone but Blankenship, things would be so much better.”
“Well, it’s not, so have you decided what you’re going to do? You can’t spend all your days wandering the park.”
“What, you don’t think I’m old enough to become a park troll?” Adrian asked mockingly. “But here in the park, there’s any number of men, young and old, out looking for a few minutes of enjoyment.”
Sylvia frowned at him. “Adrian, stop sounding like Sebastian. You’re too much of a good guy to go around acting like that. Music is your life. It’s what makes your heart beat.”
“You’re right.” He pulled the wooden flute from his pocket. “Listen to this and tell me what you think.” He let go of her arm and started playing as they walked. It was the piece he’d been working on. The notes trilled out, a blending of Celtic flair the renaissance faire had inspired and a bit of modern dance, high and upbeat.
When he was done, she stared at him, light dancing in her eyes and a wide grin across her delicate features. “That was amazing. I can’t say as I’ve ever heard anything like it. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to dance a jig or disco. What inspired it?”
“I got a job at Scarborough Renaissance as a satyr playing panpipes. It’s a lot of fun.” It didn’t feel bad admitting that he had fun. It was the truth. He’d had more fun than he figured he would, and it was inspirational. Not to mention that Ed was cute and he wanted to know the man a bit better.
Sylvia cocked her head and looked at him. Her long platinum-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder. Then she nodded. “Yeah, I can see you as a satyr. I bet all the boys and girls are falling all over themselves for your attention.”
“Well, I am a hit with the belly dancers,” he said with a grin. “They’re dancing around me when they aren’t performing on stage or working in the belly dancing shop a few doors down.”
She hooked her arm in his and resumed their walk. “Just the belly dancers, huh? Doesn’t seem your type.” Then she paused. “Wait a minute, doesn’t Sebastian work out there?”
“Yeah, it was his idea.”
“That’s why all the boys aren’t after you. Sebastian’s already had them all.”
“I don’t know about that. There is one guy. I saw him a couple times over the weekend and during setup. We talked at this party they had
Sunday night.”
Sylvia patted his arm encouragingly. “And, how was he?”
“So far, he wasn’t. We didn’t get that far. We just talked.”
The hornist stopped and stared at him. “Wait a minute. Who are you and what have you done to my arrogant, horny Adrian?”
“I’m not that arrogant. Why does everyone think I’m arrogant?”
“Sweetie, you’re the one who changed a composer’s lament to his dead mother into something joyful. That makes you arrogant. Plus, how many times have you told me about a hottie you just had to have, then after sex the spark was gone? I’ve seen you on the prowl. Hell, you once blew that guest tuba player from Denmark because he was hot and foreign.
If you’re interested, you don’t just talk to a man.”
Adrian couldn’t come up with a point to argue his history. “Maybe that’s why most of my guys don’t last a week. Maybe Ed will be different.
He said he wanted to talk more this weekend.”
“Did you get his number?”
“No, but I know where he works. It’s right near where I work.”
“So what does he do? Is he in a band or something?”
“He runs the elephant ride.” Somehow, saying it out loud, it didn’t sound so great.
Sylvia stopped walking and looked at him again. “This doesn’t sound like your normal type of guy.”
He threw his hands out in exasperation. “Now you sound like Sebastian. Who, I will have you know, I found out likes older bears for cuddling.”
“Really? That sounds a little unshallow. I can’t bring myself to use the word deep with Sebastian, unless it’s deep-throat.”
Adrian resumed walking, and they strolled across the arched wooden bridge that spanned Turtle Creek.
“So if Sebastian can break his pattern once in a while, why can’t I find a man attractive who isn’t a stuck-up prick, musically inclined, or both? You never know, this might be just what I’ve been needing, someone a bit different from all the other guys I’ve gone out with over the years.”
“If he
’s part of what inspired that melody you played a bit ago, then hey, more power to you.”
“So, Sylvia, I’ve been trying to get that piece to sound half as good on my concert flute as it does on the wooden one, and it just won’t. Any thoughts on that?”
She let go of his arm and sat down on a park bench under a willow tree. “Play it for me again. Let me see what comes to me.”
He pulled out the flute again and played the piece. If flowed out of him easier than any piece of music ever had. The notes were simple, yet the movement itself kept changing. He didn’t let it settle into much of a pattern. For a moment it sounded like the birds around him took up the song, but then couldn’t keep up with the uplifting tempo.
When he finished, Sylvia sat there with a contemplative look on her face. “Play the first part again.”
He nodded and blew softly while his fingers danced over the holes.
She held up her hand for him to stop. It felt like sacrilege for him to not finish the tune. As he lowered the flute from his lips, he realized it was the first time he hadn’t played it to completion on either the wooden flute or the panpipes since he wrote it. He hadn’t been able to finish it on his concert instrument.
“I think that this piece is too simple for the orchestra flute,” Sylvia said at last. “It needs the bareness of the wood to sound right. The metal destroys the sound.”
“What? This isn’t a simple piece.”
“No it’s not, but the music itself is. Think about some of the rhythms that a lot of the primitive drummers play on the djembes. They don’t come out nearly as good on a kettle drum or snare drum.”
“But those are entirely different instruments.”
“And so are your concert flute, the wooden flute, and the panpipes. Yeah, you blow through them all, but the craftsmanship and materials that go into them are totally different. You know, this tune might sound really awesome on a Native American flute. There is something about it that just wants to keep with an all-wood construction. I bet that’s your problem.”
It was an angle Adrian hadn’t thought of before. He’d often taken music from one instrument to another and been completely satisfied with the results. But what she said made sense.
“That could be.” He nodded. Then he sighed. “So, I wonder if that will limit its marketability.”
“Why, are you looking to sell the music, or maybe record the piece yourself? I think you should record it yourself. A lot of folks would love it, and that way you know there’s an original out there in the world that sounds the way you want it to. There are a lot of primitive wood flute recordings. From what I’ve heard about some albums like Music of the Andes, they’re very popular. Think about that.” In the distance, thunder rumbled.
Adrian looked up, and black clouds were rolling toward them. “Tell you what, why don’t we go grab a bite for dinner, and you can tell me more about your ideas for my music.”
“Are you buying or am I?” Sylvia stood up and dusted off the seat of her black slacks.
“Fine, if you’re going to drive a hard bargain, I can buy. Taco Bell is just around the corner.”
She frowned at him again. “Really, Adrian, fine, I’ll buy and we can take my car to the steak house.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 10
Ed stopped Cara so that her passengers could disembark. As expected, the weather was warmer than opening weekend had been, but it wasn’t yet to the sweltering stage it would be in a little over a month, as April turned into May. He wiped the sweat from his brow and waited for Sonny’s signal to go the next round. Like last weekend, people were flocking to see Ciro, and they’d been walking the elephants and camels around nonstop since five minutes after opening cannon.
“You need a break, bro?” Bryan asked, walking into the enclosure after getting his own lunch.
“Has everyone else had a break?” Ed asked. Cara shifted slightly under his hand as a family crawled onto her back.
Bryan nodded. “Yup, you’re the last one, as usual. Why don’t you grab yourself a bite and maybe stop in and check on Eddy and Trina with the day-care gal.”
“You keep an eye on things here.” Ed patted Cara’s trunk. “I’ll be back in a bit, girl.” Ciro came up and reached out with his trunk. He rubbed the little elephant. “Stick with your mom, okay?” He handed Bryan the leading cane. “Back in a bit.”
“Enjoy, Ed,” Sonny called down from the loading stand. “Stop and listen to the satyr. He’s sounding really good today.”
Ed waved at his employee as he slid between the bars of the enclosure fence and walked off toward the food vendors. He’d been trying to think of what he’d say to Adrian when they talked. The man had stopped by earlier, but Clive had been at lunch, so Ed hadn’t had time to talk. They exchanged a brief wave after their eyes met. That little bit had been enough to get Ed’s heart beating madly. He wondered how he’d be able to talk to the handsome man.
A small group of patrons stood in a half circle while Adrian played the panpipes and Mel and Jade twirled around him. The music was very good. For a moment, it reminded him of some of the music he’d seen set to animation, but it was more woodsy and primal than that. A lot of the solo music he’d heard in the past pleaded for more instruments, or at least voices, but the tune Adrian played was strong on its own. If anything, the occasional bell tinkle and finger cymbal snap from the belly dancers detracted from it, at least for him. From the looks of the other men watching, they were enjoying the belly dancers, but Ed only had eyes for the handsome satyr.
Over the past week, Adrian’s blond goatee had come in nice and thick. It was still a bit short, but it accented the look he was going for with his satyr costume. The facial hair also gave him a more rugged appearance and worked well with the blond hair showing on the man’s chest. Heat rose in Ed as he watched the piper move. Thankfully, he wasn’t in gauze pants that would have let his growing excitement show. What is it about this man that turns me on so?
A couple of minutes later, Adrian lowered the pipes from his lips and gave his crowd a small bow.
“We’ll be performing on the gypsy stage in an hour,” Mel said with a ting of her finger cymbals.
Jade twirled about like a lovely green flower. “The full troupe will be there.”
Some of the watchers moved into the ceramic shop, and some continued on down the lane. Ed walked up to the trio, wishing he had pockets in his faire pants that he could stick his hands into, but since pockets weren’t real big back in the middle ages, they were frowned upon in faire garb.
“So, you guys put on quite the show,” he said.
“Hey, Ed.” Adrian smiled at him. “Glad you could stop by. You were really busy earlier.”
“Yeah, the baby elephant is drawing people in this year. But I’m not complaining.”
“He’s so cute,” Jade squealed. “I never realized baby elephants are fuzzy like that. He’s just adorable.”
“If you like, stop by before opening or after cannon and you can pet him,” Ed said. He didn’t bother adding that Bryan wouldn’t complain about the belly dancers stopping in. “We try not to let folks do that when the gates are open or all the patrons will want to do it, and I don’t think he’s ready for that much attention.” Talking about the elephants helped still his nerves about talking to Adrian.
“Oh, that would be really nice,” Mel replied.
“Nice? That would be so rad,” Jade butted in. “I’ve never petted a baby elephant before.”
“So how long are you free for?” Adrian interrupted the girls.
“I’m the boss.” Ed smiled. “As long as nothing major happens, I’m free for a bit. I was going to grab a bite and check on Eddy.”
“Well, we need to get off our feet for a while.” Mel grabbed Jade’s arm to lead the woman away. “We’ll catch you guys later.”
Adrian turned and looked into the shop. “Sebastian!” he shouted.
“Let Paul know I’m taking a lunch.”
&nb
sp; “But didn’t you—” Sebastian turned toward them and caught sight of Ed. “Oh…. Okay!”
Ed chuckled as Adrian settled the panpipes around his neck and stepped closer to him. “Did you already take your lunch?”
Adrian shrugged. “You were busy, so I just took a short break. It’ll be fine. I’ve got customers stopping in. That’s what Paul wants, and he’s happy right now.”
“Good.” Ed fell into step with the slightly taller man. “So did you have a good week?”
“For the most part. I’ve been doing some composing. That was a little bothersome at first, but I got the bugs worked out and it’s flowing really nicely.”
They skirted a tree. Ed noticed that neither of them stepped away from the other to go on separate sides of the tree. They both moved to the right. “Was what you just played an original piece?”
“Yeah, it’s one of the pieces I’ve been working on. It sounds a lot better on the pipes than it does on my concert flute. That was the bug I was working out, until a friend pointed out that I shouldn’t worry about it and just play the instrument it sounds best on.”
Ed nodded. “That’s good advice.”
“So how did you spend your week?” Adrian asked as they got in line for food.
“Kinda my normal week, taking care of the animals and Eddy. I did get to meet my daughter yesterday. It was the first time in four and a half years.” Now that they were actually talking, Ed relaxed. Adrian felt good to talk to, and it wasn’t scary opening up about Trina and Trish.
“Wow, you have a daughter too. Wait, I remember Eddy saying something about his sister the other night.”
“Yeah, it’s his twin sister. My really good friend, Trish, and her lover, Samantha, wanted to have kids, and they asked me to be the father. I’d been thinking about having kids too, but most folks don’t want to settle down—”
Adrian raised a blond eyebrow. “Folks?”