Still Life with Strings

by L.H. Cosway

  “Right. I’ll see you then, Shane.”

  “See you, Bluebird,” he murmurs, and then hangs up.

  That night during my shift, when my break comes I decide to go outside for some fresh air. There’s an emergency exit to the rear of the first floor that leads out to a metal staircase. I’m not supposed to, but it’s where I normally go when I need some quiet time. I’ve been uncharacteristically accident prone tonight, letting a glass smash onto the floor and almost spilling wine on a woman who was ordering drinks from me.

  It’s all because of Shane.

  The merciless man is turning my entire life upside down. Perhaps not in a way that anyone can see, but my head is a complete mess because of him. I pull a cigarette from my pocket and light it up. Lara let me steal one from her bag in the staff room. I don’t normally smoke. I only do on occasions like this when my nerves are at me.

  I take a long, deep drag and stare out at the tops of the trees in the gardens behind the concert hall. If I listen carefully enough, I can hear the wind rustling through the leaves like the trees are whispering secrets. The smoke flows out of my mouth, a wisp of fog snatched away by the darkness.

  Hushed conversation drifts up from below, and I peer down to see two people standing just outside the backstage exit. I’m leaning against the railing, so if either of them looked up, they’d see me right away. It only takes a second for me to recognise one of them as Shane, and the other looks to be his father.

  “Why won’t you speak to her?” I make out his father’s words. He’s dressed casually, so he’s clearly not here to see the show.

  Shane drags his hand through his hair. He’s wearing the tuxedo that all the men in the orchestra wear during performances, a black coat with tails, a white shirt with a white bowtie. I momentarily note how handsome he looks in it, how much it suits him, before he replies to his dad, “I told her I was through after the other night. How could she think it would be a good idea to invite Mona and Justin to her event?”

  “Your mother didn’t realise how upset you’d be. Besides, we saw you on the television the other morning. You said you’d be playing a duet with Mona for the orchestra’s new season. I can’t see how you can be mad at her when you’ve agreed to work with the woman.”

  Shane steps forward angrily, and his dad takes a step back. “That’s got nothing to do with it. And for your information, I wasn’t told about playing with Mona until it was announced to me quite inappropriately live on the air. I expect that kind of carelessness from the orchestra management. I shouldn’t have to expect the same from my own mother.”

  “She’s very sorry, Shane. She hasn’t been herself since you stopped taking her calls.”

  “Good. She deserves a taste of her own medicine.”

  “She’s your mother. For God’s sake, have a heart.”

  At this Shane whips his head up to his dad, spitting out, “Is she my mother? Really? As far as I’ve been told, my mother is some impoverished Chinese woman who needed money so bad she agreed to sell her baby to a pair of strangers.”

  “Now you’re twisting things. You’re my son, and you’re your mother’s son, too. It shouldn’t matter who birthed you. Your parents are who raised you.”

  Shane stares at his dad, his shoulders slumped sadly. “I know that. I’m sorry for snapping. You’re not the one I’m mad at.”

  Wow. I think maybe I should head back inside. I look down at the cigarette in my hand, realising that the whole thing has burned all the way down to the butt, and I only took one drag. I’d been so rapt with the conversation going on below me that I’d forgotten to smoke it.

  Looking back at the two one more time, I actually feel a little sorry for Shane’s dad, stuck in the middle of a fight between his wife and son. Then I feel sorry for Shane, too. He’s clearly in turmoil over what his mum did. I feel like going down there and comforting him, but that might not be my place. And anyway, I have to get back to the bar.

  Leaving them to the rest of their talk, I return to my post and try not to think about how Shane is suffering right now. I know he has to go back inside and play the second half of the show, which must feel awful after fighting with his dad.

  When I get home that night, I bring up Shane’s number on my phone several times, agonising over whether or not to call him. Every time I chicken out, and in the end I have to toss my phone under my bed so I won’t be tempted. Instead I pull out my old mp3 player and fire up the one album I have of his, Songs for Her. I close my eyes and listen, and once again I fall asleep to the sweet allure of his violin.

  Twenty-One

  I thought that two days would be lots of time to get my head around me and Shane, but seemingly I can’t get past the butterflies I feel when I think of him to even consider anything else. I’ve thought it a very appropriate description to compare the feeling of being “in lust” with a person to having butterflies in your stomach. But at the same time it irks me, because they always fail to mention how those butterflies have wings made of steel, cutting through your insides so that all you can feel is burning.

  I haven’t seen Shane since the incident with his dad, which is probably a good thing, because I don’t know what to say to him about how he’s stonewalling his mother. Is it wrong for me to think that what he’s doing is a good thing? I don’t know all the ins and outs of the situation, but from what I’ve heard, she doesn’t really deserve forgiveness.

  Alec readily agrees to come with me to the concert, since I mentioned we might have drinks with Shane and Avery afterward. Of course, all I’ll be having is a plain old orange juice, but the rest of them are free to get a little tipsy if they like. I put on my black shift dress and heels before twisting my hair into a fancy bun and putting on some silver stud earrings. I go light on the makeup as usual and knock on Alec’s door to see if he’s ready.

  When he steps out, I grin from ear to ear. He’s wearing a navy shirt and dark slacks. I think this is the fanciest I’ve ever seen him dressed.

  “Are those your interview clothes?” I ask in amusement. Someone’s definitely out to impress tonight.

  He shrugs. “They might be. Am I driving, or are we getting a taxi?”

  “You can drive. It’ll give you an excuse to offer Avery a lift home, now, won’t it?”

  “Ah, I didn’t think of that!” he says, raising his hand for a high-five. I leave him hanging, though, not wanting to participate in setting my brother up to score the shy violinist any more than I already have. I feel bad for a second before I realise that Avery will probably be delighted with the attention. My brother might be tatted up to bits, but he’s definitely a looker. You’d hardly notice the tattoos with the way he’s dressed tonight. All you can see is the faintest tip of a demon wing he’s got inked on the side of his neck.

  When he was a teenager, I always used to tell him not to tattoo any body parts he couldn’t cover up: hands, face, neck, etc. I warned him he’d never get a job if he did. I’m surprised he didn’t make me eat my words when he had no trouble getting work in construction.

  We park outside the concert hall and go inside. It’s odd, but in all the time I’ve worked here, this is actually the first occasion where I’ve come to see a show. I’ve sat in on one or two during my shifts, but I’ve never been an ordinary audience member until now.

  Lara’s standing in the middle of the foyer at a podium, selling programmes, when we walk in. She knew Shane gave me tickets for tonight, but she still makes a big deal as we approach her.

  “Well, la di flipping da. Look at the two of you all dolled up to the nines.”

  Alec gives her a smooth grin, his eyes scanning her up and down. I think Lara is the only woman I know who’s immune to my brother’s lasciviousness. She’s been around the block far too many times not to recognise a player when she sees one. Needless to say, his flirty smile doesn’t work on her.

  “Thanks, Lara,” I say, giving her wrist a quick squeeze. She shoots me a reassuring look, knowing I must be nervous,
and I feel better for it. Alec and I move on and go inside the auditorium to take our seats. There are people chattering all around us, the place only half full so far. Most people are out at the bars, finishing their drinks.

  Shane got us some of the best seats, too, right in the middle. If you’re too close to the front, you only have a partial view of the musicians, while if you’re in the middle a good few rows back you can see everything much better.

  I shoot a quick text to April, making sure everything’s all right at home since she’s babysitting Mia at our house tonight. She texts back a minute later telling me everything is fine and that Pete’s in his room watching movies. I tuck my phone back in my bag and focus on the stage.

  Alec eyes the empty seats and asks me where Avery will be sitting. I point out the second row in the violins section and then have a look at the programme I got from Lara. There are going to be three pieces played, the first of which will be Debussy’s La Mer. I know enough French to translate that as “The Sea.” Next is a piano piece called “Une barque sur l’ocean,” by Ravel, which means “A Boat on the Ocean.” And lastly is Sibelius’ “The Oceanides.” Turning back to the front of the programme, I see the title of the concert is Uisce, which is Irish for “water.” Clever.

  About five minutes later the auditorium is full, and the members of the orchestra are walking out onto the stage. I see Shane right away, looking dashingly handsome as always. The audience claps, and his eyes drift across the hall until he finds me. He gives me a heart-stopping smile, and I can’t help grinning in return. Fizzy excitement bubbles in my belly. I adore classical music, and it’s a rare treat for me to see it live and not in small scraps like when I’m working and manage to catch a few stolen minutes of a performance.

  Tonight I get to gorge myself and see an entire show from beginning to end. Once the musicians are seated and have tuned their instruments, the conductor walks out and takes his place at the front of the stage. He says a few words introducing the piece they’re going to play, but my attention is all on Shane. I watch how he turns a page of sheet music on the stand in front of him and whispers something friendly to the violinist beside him.

  There’s a moment of quiet right before the music starts, and I relax into my seat, closing my eyes and allowing it to wash over my senses. The piece has a soft, slow start, but I can tell it’s building. Suddenly, there’s a loud caw from above, and I blink my eyes open to see two seagulls swoop low and fly right over my head.

  The salty smell of the sea fills my nose and the walls begin to move, bricks turning over on themselves and transforming into wooden slats. The top of the auditorium where the organ and choir section is located begins to narrow into a point, becoming the bow of a ship. Down the centre of the hall, giant billowing sails rise up to the ceiling. The roof disappears, replaced with clear blue skies, wind fluttering through the white sails.

  The boat containing all our souls moves with the music, calm waves crashing against its sturdy sides. Bright rays of sunlight shine down, caressing my skin and reflecting through the glassy waters. A dolphin jumps out of the sea in an explosion of droplets before diving back under. It emerges again, so playful, dancing alongside the moving vessel.

  Then, up ahead, dark clouds form, a storm on the horizon. Rain crashes down from the sky, soaking all of us in a sheath of cold water. A clap of thunder sounds as the wind gets turbulent and waves form, rocking the boat from side to side. The ship rocks so hard to one side it almost turns over.

  People clutch onto each other, but the orchestra plays on, because when everything else in life fails, there still has to be music. My heart seizes as I stare straight ahead at a dark object rising out of the water. A whale with its mouth wide open, so huge it could swallow us whole. We narrowly escape the mouth of the whale, only to crash into its tail. A crack shatters in the body of the ship, and water starts to gush through.

  More and more water comes. There’s no escape. We’re going under. My entire body is surrounded now, only my head above, my breathing laboured, panicked. There’s nothing but water and music and death.

  The music stops. The audience starts to applaud, and my heart pounds like I really did just drown. One man a couple of rows in front of us rises, initiating a standing ovation. Others follow suit. Alec nudges me with his elbow and we both stand, clapping as the musicians graciously accept our applause.

  There’s a short intermission, and Alec goes out to grab a drink at the bar. I stay in my seat, still too moved by the music to do anything but feel the after-effects. A grand piano is wheeled out onto the stage. When the hall re-fills after the intermission, a guest pianist is introduced to play the Ravel piece.

  The rest of the concert passes beautifully, and I make a promise to myself to do this more often. My phone buzzes with a text as Alec and I slowly leave the auditorium.

  Shane: Come backstage.

  I reply simply.

  Jade: On my way.

  When we reach the dressing rooms, Alec immediately goes in search of Avery. I imagine he has some big compliments about her performance all at the ready, with the intention of getting into her pants by the end of the night. I’m not sure why, but I have this feeling that the two of them could be good together, that she could be the woman to finally knock Alec on his arse.

  I can’t see Shane at his usual spot, but then I know why when two strong arms wrap around my middle. I smell his cologne first, something citrus and masculine.

  “Three. Fucking. Days. Are you trying to kill me, woman?” he whispers huskily in my ear.

  I chuckle. “That wasn’t my intention, no. And I thought we spoke about PDAs?” I whisper flirtatiously in reply, turning my head to him slightly. He presses a light kiss to my cheek and pulls away.

  “Sorry. I’ll have to expend more willpower in the future.”

  I look him over, seeing he’s already got his violin case with him, a backpack hanging from his shoulder. It seems he’s all ready to go; he hasn’t even changed out of his tux, which, by the way, I don’t mind. Not at all.

  He holds his hand out to me. “Shall we go?”

  “Um, yeah, just give me a second,” I say, turning around and trying to pinpoint Alec. I spot him a few yards away, leaning against Avery’s dressing table as she brushes her hair and seemingly blushes profusely. I wonder what he’s said to her to warrant such a reaction. When I catch his eye, I mouth to him that I’m leaving and he nods, waving me off.

  Turning back to Shane, I meet his gaze, and his eyes are shining. God help me, but it looks like he’s got big plans for me tonight. I take his hand, and he leads me out of the building and to his car. Before I know it, I’m strapped in and we’re driving in the direction of his place.

  Glancing from the road to me, he asks, “Did you have a good time?”

  “I loved it,” I answer honestly, and bite my lip. I can’t handle the intensity of his gaze, so I stare out the window at the passing scenery instead. There’s something electric about him tonight, and it makes me jumpy. His hand moves to my thigh and trails up under the hem of my dress. The warmth of his skin causes a tiny moan to erupt from my mouth. I wince with embarrassment. Has three days away from him really made me this needy?

  He strokes the apex of my thighs, his thumb seeking my clit over the fabric of my underwear. Shivers break out on my arms and neck. Then he moves his hands and continues driving until we get to his house. I almost protest. When he parks, he gets out first and walks around to open my door for me, helping me from my seat, his hands on my waist.

  My feet hit the concrete, but we don’t move. I stand there, staring up into his eyes as his grip on me tightens. He ducks his head down and presses his lips to mine, his tongue flicking out experimentally for a second.

  “Better get inside, or I’ll be in danger of taking you right here,” he murmurs darkly into my ear and I tremble, allowing him to lead me to the house. I didn’t bring an overnight bag because I don’t plan on staying the entire night. I have to get back t
o April and Pete, but there’s also the fact that sleeping with Shane, and I mean actually sleeping, is too intimate. Since we spoke on the phone, I realised that needs to be another rule. Just sex. No sleepovers.

  “Do you want anything to drink?” he asks as we walk into his kitchen.

  I shake my head, and he sets down his bag and violin case. I glance at the clock and see it’s almost eleven, which means I can spend a couple of hours here before I have to leave. Seconds later he’s scooping me up into his arms and kissing me so deep I ache.

  Kissing and roaming our hands over each other, we fumble up the stairs, somehow finding our way to his room without tripping up on anything. He turns me so my back is to his front, and then his hand goes to my neck, gripping it possessively as he walks me over to his bed. My knees hit the mattress and he bends me over, grinding his erection against my bottom. Frenzied, he tugs my dress up over my thighs until my underwear is bared, which he quickly rids me of.

  He seems to be in the mood to take the lead and I let him, revelling in it.

  His mouth joins his hand at my neck, licking and sucking. “It’s probably a bit late to be bringing this up, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m clean.”

  My brain is too fogged by desire to get what he’s saying at first. Then I understand. “I’m clean, too,” I reply breathlessly.

  His hand on my neck tightens. “I don’t want to use protection with you. Is that okay?”

  Moaning as he uses his teeth to nip my neck, I nod my head. “Yeah. I want to feel you.”

  My response seems to please him, and he gives my bottom a little spank. I yelp and he growls, kneeling down behind me and lightly biting the curve of my arse cheek.

  Emitting a low groan, he purrs, “Have I ever told you how much I love your arse?”

  I laugh. “Not that I recall.”

  “Well, I do. It’s fucking perfect.”