Gun Games

by Faye Kellerman

  Again, that smile. “I like a guy who can carry a steady beat.”

  “You know what they say. Drummers do it with a bang.” Thank God the bus was in sight. “Hey, I don’t even know your name.”

  “Cameron.”

  Gabe made a show of pulling out his phone and entering her name in his contact list. “And your number?”

  She gave it to him. When she asked for his number, he mixed up the digits. That way if he ever ran into her again, he could claim that she typed them in wrong if she actually tried to call him.

  “Do you have a last name?” she asked.

  “Donatti.” He spelled it for her. If she googled the name, she’d get references to his dad and see that he was telling the truth. She’d probably figure that he was Donatti junior. Gabe didn’t ask for her last name, and she didn’t offer it up.

  The bus pulled to the curb. “Good talking to you, Cameron,” he said. “Another time?”

  Cameron tilted her head, but her eyes had turned stormy. “You can always dream, little boy.”

  “I suppose I deserved that.” He stood up.

  Her eyes went up and down his body. “I might be forgiving . . . it all depends. Ball’s in your court, Chris.” A pause. “I’m assuming you’re good with balls?”

  He forced out a laugh and pointed to her purse. “Think of me when you try it out.” He climbed the two steps up to the driver and gave him the money.

  He was thrilled when the bus pulled away.

  Immediately, he erased her name from his contact list and sat back on the bench seat, feeling his heartbeat slow until it was back to normal. A few minutes later, his phone sprang to life.

  r u there?

  His smile was immediate. on the bus to sc.

  gd luck on the audition. i know u’ll do g8.

  thx. i’m pretty confident. gd luck on ur bio test.

  thx. i’m not as confident as u r, but who is?

  Gabe laughed. r u saying i’m arrogant?

  i’m saying that ur 2 perfect 2 ever worry.

  If she only knew! He texted: if i’m perfect, it’s cuz i hang with the goddess of perfection.

  ur the best. :)

  Gabe wrote: i really missed u this morning, Yasmine.

  missed u soooo much. A pause. i dreamed . . . dreamt about u last nite.

  i hope it was a good one.

  we were kissing.

  then it was a very good one.

  it was so real, gabe. i could taste ur mouth. i didn’t ever want it 2 end.

  Seven in the morning and her words were making him hornier than a springbok. Embarrassed, he crossed his legs and texted her: what u do 2 me, little girl. it’s obscene.

  lol. Another pause. seriously, i miss u so much, gabriel. i’m so pathetic.

  not as pathetic as i am. i think about u all the time. being away from u sucks.

  yeah, it really does. i can’t w8 4 sat. how long will the deckers b away?

  they leave 4 shul between 9 and 10. they’ll probably b gone for 4 hours so hopefully we’ll have lots of time 2gether and alone.

  Yey! i can’t w8!!!!

  He wrote: maybe we can act out ur dream.

  She wrote: only if we can do it over and over and over.

  Gabe felt faint. omg, ur killing me.

  looks like u’ll need some mouth 2 mouth resuscitation. :)

  ur waaaaay 2 sexy 4 ur own gd. i can’t w8 for sat. come at 10:30 2 b safe.

  i’ll b there at 10:30 . . . on time.

  Gabe smiled. right.

  no, really.

  A pause between her texts. Then she wrote: dang, i have 2 go. daisy is banging on my door 2 leave 4 school. if i don’t go, she’ll leave w/out me.

  dang ur sister. go on. i’ll text u when i can.

  i’ll do the same. will u miss me 2day?

  ur a cuckoo bird. of course, i’ll miss u. i miss u every second ur not with me.

  i can b a cuckoo bird just so long as im ur cuckoo bird.

  u r definitely my cuckoo bird. a million hugs n kisses, yasmine. have a g8t day.

  a million hugs n kisses back 4 ever n ever, gabriel. u know u own my ♥.

  His cell went inert and he stared at the blank window hoping for one more time. When nothing came, he kissed his phone and returned it to his back pocket. He sat back and closed his eyes. He simply ached with longing. Nothing else mattered. Not his crazy parents, not the Deckers, not his teacher or this audition or any audition, none of his upcoming competitions or even his future as a pianist.

  Just Yasmine.

  Only Yasmine.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gabe thought he played pretty well and by the look on the agent’s face, his assessment wasn’t too far off. Jeff Robinson was in his thirties, a typical L.A. guy with the dark suit and T-shirt with the high-tops on his feet. He had brown hair that grazed his shoulders and jumpy eyes. He twitched a lot and used his hands when he spoke.

  He said, “I think you have a real winner here, Nick. He’s young and plays with that youthful energetic brio, his reading skills are excellent, he’s got a strong command of the instrument, and equally as important, he’s got stagecraft. He’s fun to look at. I’m in the business of entertainment and ladies, being ladies, have an eye. In private events, they use the musicians like flower arrangements; and the better looking they are, the more they sell.”

  “The kid is more than decoration, Jeff.”

  “Absolutely. And if he continues to develop, I could do big things with him. I can do a lot with him now.”

  “I don’t want him overexposed.”

  Talking about him like he was a old-time photograph.

  “I agree, he needs seasoning. But if he continues to progress, by the time he gets out of Juilliard, he should be ready to tackle something other than chamber music in small venues.” He turned to Gabe. “You’re starting school in the fall.”

  Gabe said, “Definitely somewhere.”

  “What does that mean?” Robinson asked.

  Gabe felt his face go hot. “Um, I got into Harvard—”

  “Harvard?” Robinson stared at him. “You can’t seriously be thinking of going to Harvard.”

  Nick said, “Jeff, let me handle this.”

  “You got into Juilliard?”

  Gabe nodded.

  “So you go to Juilliard. Harvard is a waste of time. Why would you even consider it?”

  “Jeff—”

  “I want to hear what the kid has to say.”

  Gabe took a deep breath. “I just thought it would be good for me personally as well as musically to maybe go to a regular university.”

  “So go to Juilliard and take some courses at Columbia. Students do that all the time.”

  “I haven’t heard from Columbia yet,” Gabe said. “I’ll probably get in—”

  “No, no, no. You’ve got it backward. You don’t go to Columbia. You go to Juilliard and take courses at Columbia.” A pause. “You heard from Harvard but you didn’t hear from Columbia?”

  “I applied early to Harvard.”

  “Don’t tell me that’s binding.”

  “No, Harvard isn’t binding.”

  Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. “Gabe, let me tell you something. You don’t have a lot of time. If you don’t make something click between twenty to twenty-five, it ain’t gonna happen for you.”

  “Jeff—”

  “I’m not saying you can’t be a musician, but solo piano with big orchestras on major venues . . . forget it.”

  “Will you let me handle it, Jeff?”

  “Nick, I’m running a business. If the kid isn’t serious, I’m not going to waste my time grooming him.”

  “I am serious,” Gabe said.

  “You can’t be serious if you’re thinking about Harvard. And don’t tell me Yo-Yo Ma went there. You’re no Yo-Yo Ma.” He stared at the kid. “I got at least a hundred kids out there who’d love to be in your shoes with talent like yours and a face like yours and a teacher like Nicholas Mark.
And you want to blow it all by taking four years out of your musical life and go on some kind of personal quest to find yourself?”

  “I didn’t say that—”

  “Jeff—”

  “Why should I believe you’re serious, Gabe?” The guy was literally in his face. “Convince me.”

  Gabe said, “Because I don’t want to be a musician, I have to be a musician. It isn’t volitional. I have no choice. When I sit down and play, it’s like I’m . . . whole. It’s my communication, okay, like talking.” He shook his head. “Music is the only thing that I speak fluently. Anything else is a foreign language.”

  Robinson said, “So if that’s really the case, why would you consider putting yourself in a place where you can’t communicate? I didn’t even know that Harvard had a performance tract.”

  “They don’t—”

  “Jesus, kid! Harvard? At least go to Princeton where they have a performance tract. How can you seriously think of going to a school without a performance option? And I’m supposed to believe you’re serious?”

  Gabe said, “I figured I’d do maybe a joint program with New England Conservatory—”

  “Which is a fine place, Gabriel. I’m not knocking NEC. But it isn’t Juilliard, and Boston isn’t New York.”

  “Jeff, he’s very young.”

  “Not so young.”

  Nick said, “Young enough to take a year off to study.”

  “A year yes, but not four years.” To Gabe he said, “If you want a university, USC is better than Harvard. At least you can study with Nick.”

  “Jeff, have I ever steered you wrong?”

  “Nick—”

  “Have I?” Silence. “For the last time, let me handle this. You just concentrate on getting him some bookings.”

  Gabe blurted out, “I’m not out to screw myself up, okay. If it’s a bad idea to go to Boston, I won’t go. And I know I’m not Yo-Yo Ma, but I figured if he went, it must be okay. But if you think it’s stupid, I’ll pass on Harvard, okay.”

  Robinson sighed. “Look, Gabe. These are the facts on the ground. You have adult skills, but you’re still a kid. I know that. Nick knows that. In a perfect world, Nick and I could nurture you, but that isn’t going to happen. You’re going into an adult business with an emphasis on business. Got it?”

  “I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do, and that’s not your fault. We’re not talking about a recital or a competition or a schooled jury giving you marks. We’re talking ordinary people. Some will have decent ears, most will have appreciation for music, and there will even be some who are tone-deaf. But they’ll all be paying hard-earned money to see you perform. You’ve got to go out there every single time and put out. And you’ve got to know that every time you put your hands on a keyboard, you’re going to be critiqued. If you work hard, if you learn a sizable repertoire, if you practice, practice, practice, I have no doubt that you’ll be good enough to make a go at it. I’ve been at this for a while. I can tell after a few pieces who has it and who doesn’t. You’ve got the potential, and you certainly have the stagecraft. And you may rise to the vaunted top of being good enough for a solo career. You’ll get your raves, but, buddy, there are times when you’re going to be slammed. I’m your advocate out there. I’m the one who’s going to be reading the reviews and underlining the salient remarks. If I think the review is bullshit, I won’t even show it to you. But if I think you’re fucking up, I’m going to tell you and I expect you to change. I don’t represent losers, understand?”

  “I have no problem with that.” Gabe shrugged. “Without being haughty, I know I’m terrific. But I also know how to take criticism. Just ask Nick.”

  “He’s got an ego, but he’s also not stubborn,” Nick said.

  “That’s good,” Robinson said. “That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

  “Satisfied?” Nick said.

  “For the time being.”

  “Can we talk about what you potentially have for him this summer?”

  “Depends how much he wants to work.”

  “He wants to work.”

  Jeff turned to him. “Do you want to work?”

  “Absolutely. That’s what I’m here for.” Gabe stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?” Jeff demanded.

  “Can I take a piss?”

  Jeff waved him away.

  Gabe went into the hallway and blew out air. Jeff was difficult but up-front. Compared to Chris, he was a grounder. Gabe took out his mobile and punched in his father’s number. Chris changed his cells like cigarettes so Gabe was always surprised when the line actually kicked in. He was even more surprised when Chris answered the phone.

  Donatti answered, “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I just auditioned for this agent.”

  “What agent?”

  “His name is Jeff Robinson, and he books everything from Carnegie Hall to expensive private salon events. Nick is trying to get me slots in some of the summer chamber music festivals.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Well, I think Jeff’s going to place me somewhere. He’s still got some openings in smaller cities in the middle of the country. Nick wants me to do about six of them. I think it’ll be fun.”

  “It’s a good start. There must be some contracts involved.”

  “Yeah, I got a bunch of papers. You’re still my legal guardian, right?”

  “Unless you know something that I don’t, I’m still your father. Send me the contracts. I’ll have my lawyers look them over.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Need anything else?”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “Who’s the girl?”

  Gabe was stunned into silence. Then he managed, “What?”

  “Don’t give me that stupid teenager what? You bought something for one hundred and twenty-eight bucks at Sterling Silver Jewelry Exchange. You don’t wear jewelry except my mother’s cross. And you’re not gay so you didn’t buy something for a guy. So who’s the girl?”

  Gabe tried to come up with a decent lie, but his mind was a blank. He was just too tired for invention. Besides, he couldn’t bullshit his father on anything. “Just someone.”

  “I know she’s someone, Gabriel. I didn’t assume she was a fucking apparition. Start with a name.”

  “Yasmine.”

  “You like her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A lot?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t knock her up.”

  “We’re not having sex.”

  “Then you’re an idiot.”

  Gabe got irked. “You know, you waited over a year before you had sex with Mom.”

  “Who said I wasn’t an idiot. Look where it got me. And since when have I been your fucking role model?”

  At this point, Gabe felt his best option was to say nothing.

  “How old is she?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Jesus, no wonder you’re not screwing her. She’s one step above a toddler. Has she even gone through puberty?”

  “I’ve never asked.”

  “You can’t fucking tell?”

  Again, Gabe was silent.

  “So you like them young,” Donatti said. “None of my business.”

  “First of all, in case you’re not aware of my age, I’m only a year older than she is. Second, I don’t like them young per se, Dad, I just happen to like her.”

  “No need to get defensive. You wouldn’t believe the shit I cater to.”

  “I’m just saying it’s not weird, okay?”

  “If you wind up in jail, I got your back.”

  “That’s not funny.” Especially because they were sneaking around. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me.”

  “Fine. You hang up on me.”

  “Whoa there, stallion, I’m on your side.” His fat
her laughed out loud. “Gabriel, I’m glad you found someone who can keep your interest. And she must be okay because you don’t suffer fools. Just make sure that she doesn’t interfere with your music. That’s a deal breaker.”

  “She gets me. Besides, she’s an opera buff. That’s how we met.”

  “Good to hear. Just watch yourself. You think you’ve got it under control, but take it from me. You’re all hormones.”

  It wasn’t like that at all. Well, maybe a little. “Duly noted, okay.”

  “Send me the contracts. I’ll have my lawyers contact your agent. And don’t worry. I won’t piss him off.”

  “He’s kinda hard-nosed, Chris. If anything, he’ll piss you off.”

  “Fine with me. I like a good pissing contest.” His father hung up.

  Not a bad conversation actually. For years, Gabe had felt that the only reason Chris tolerated him was because of Mom, that he and his mother came as a package. Now Mom was out of the picture and he and Chris had talked more in the past six months than they had in previous fourteen years. Sometimes his dad even sounded like he gave a shit.

  He knew he should get back to Nick and Jeff, but talking to his father made him feel even more anxious. He texted Yasmine. r u busy?

  He didn’t hear anything for a moment. He put his phone back in his pocket and headed back to the auditorium, but then it beeped.

  everything ok?

  can I call u?

  i’ll call u.

  He waited a minute. Finally, his phone rang. “Hi.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” A pause. “ I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m still at SC.”

  “How’d the audition go?”

  “It went really well. How’d your test go?”

  “It was hard! Everyone thought so.”

  “I’m sure you did great.”

  “I hope so.” A beat. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got to get back soon. My teacher and this agent . . . are like discussing my future.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re discussing like where I should play, when I should solo, what I should play, where I should go to college.” He heard a toilet flush and smiled. “Are you in the bathroom?”