by Rico, Lauren
“Uh-uh,” I shook my head. “No way she could be that good, I would have noticed her by now.”
“How do you think she got to be principal cello at one of the top conservatories in the country? Do not count her out,” my brother warned. “I’m not kidding, Jeremy. You’d be a fool to assume she’s not a threat.”
And there it was, just like that. I have no doubt that as soon as the word ‘threat’ was out of his mouth Brett regretted saying it. With six letters he had activated my keen instinct for self-preservation.
30
“Morning, Matthew.”
Matthew turns around and nearly spits his coffee all over when he sees me standing in his kitchen in nothing but my boxers.
“Aren’t you going to offer me a cup?” I ask. “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe you weren’t expecting me to be here, I was Julia’s guest last night. Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t hear us…”
“Shut. Up.”
He enunciates the two words as if they are two distinct sentences.
I smile.
“Don’t you have a home of your own?”
“Aw, Matthew, don’t be like that…” I say, with insincere disappointment.
“Why don’t you find your pants and get the hell out?” he suggests in a deathly quiet tone.
I don’t move. He’s finally returned from the Walton Quartet’s holiday tour, and that means he’s going to be around a lot more. I don’t like that one bit.
“Seriously, Matthew. We’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other, you know? So maybe you should just accept this now instead of dragging it out…”
In an instant, he’s in my face, but I don’t so much as blink.
“I’m not going to say it again. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”
“Ahem.”
Julia has come out of the bedroom and is standing there, in her robe, watching us.
“If I’m not mistaken, Matthew, it’s my apartment, too,” she says. “I mean, that’s what the rent check is for every month, right?”
I look from her back to him with a smile and one cocked eyebrow. Oh, bad timing for you, Matty boy.
“And you,” she says, addressing me, “this is his home and he’s my friend. Please be respectful of that.”
I pretend to be chastened.
“Julia, I’m going to rehearsal. I’d appreciate it if we could have a little… privacy this evening,” Matthew says, angling himself so he’s facing her with his back to me. “I thought I might make us a special dinner.”
Julia meets his gaze and holds it.
“You know what, Matthew? Why don’t you make yourself some dinner? I’ll stay at Jeremy’s. That should give you plenty of privacy.”
I try to keep from snorting with laughter.
He’s shaking his head.
“That’s not what I meant…” he starts to protest.
She holds up a finger and he stops, mid-sentence.
“I know what you meant.”
He doesn’t say another word, just grabs his jacket and walks out the door, letting it slam hard behind him.
“Well, that didn’t go especially well, did it?” I say with half a chuckle.
She walks toward me, wagging that same finger. But her irritation has passed. She’s smiling at me.
“I thought we agreed you’d wait for Matthew to leave before coming out.”
“Does this mean you’ve given more thought to us moving in together?” I ask hopefully.
She shrugs a little and smiles.
“Maybe…”
“I’ve got to warn you,” I say, looking around the apartment, “my place is a little less impressive than this. I’m not sure how comfortable you’ll be there.”
Julia wraps her arms around my waist and presses the side of her face to my chest.
“I don’t mind. Is that okay, though? Will Brett have an issue with me being there?”
“Brett doesn’t care. It won’t be the first time he’s had to share the bathroom with someone I’m sleeping with. One morning he walked in on me in the shower with Deb Kaufman.”
“Wait, wait, wait… do you mean Doctor Kaufman? The Early Music History professor?” she asks, tilting her head up and looking at me, trying to gauge whether or not I’m kidding.
I’m not.
“Let’s not worry about her or Matthew right now, okay? I’m much more interested in you.”
She opens her mouth to say something but I lean over to nibble her earlobe as I reach down and find the sash on her robe. With one tug I pull it open and it slips to the floor into a puddle of satin.
“I’ll bet the sheets are still warm…” I whisper, scooping her up like a newlywed about to be carried across the threshold. Julia throws her head back and squeals.
****
The apartment that Brett and I share is a narrow two-bedroom, housed over a pizza parlor in one of Brooklyn’s less gentrified neighborhoods. It always smells of garlic, and when the locals gather on the street corner on warm summer nights, it can be hard to get an hour’s sleep. It’s hardly an apartment at the Strathmore, but it’ll do for now.
“How long is she going to stay here?” Brett asks, glancing down the hall toward my bedroom, where Julia is clearing a drawer and some closet space for herself.
“Not sure. Why, is she in your way?”
“Nope. Just wondering. They’re usually here for a night or two at most.”
“She’ll be here for as long as it takes,” I say quietly, taking another swig from the bottle.
Brett nods his understanding, and we continue watching television in silence. It’s nine o’clock when she walks into my living room, setting her cello case on the floor so she can cram assorted odds and ends into her purse.
“Where are you going?” I ask from the couch, where Brett and I are watching The Godfather for about the fiftieth time.
“I’m going to head up to McInnes. I’ve got a lot of work to do,” she says.
“Oh,” I say, sounding very disappointed. “I was just thinking about ordering some Chinese. And I’d hoped you would join us for the movie…”
She gives me a sad smile that says ‘no’ before her words do.
“Jeremy, that is so tempting… but I can’t. I’ve already missed too much practice time, and Dr. Sam is starting to notice. He’ll have my head if I don’t work through some of those tricky passages that have been tripping me up.”
I get up and walk to her, putting my arms around her waist and pulling her close to me.
“Jules, I totally get that, but you have to understand that you’re not at the Strathmore anymore. This isn’t the safest neighborhood, and I’m really not comfortable with you walking to the train station by yourself and then standing on a deserted platform with your cello.”
“I love that you worry about me, but this seems like a perfectly safe neighborhood,” she says, giving me an extra hard squeeze. “I’ll be fine!”
I give her my best look of stern concern.
“Just because it looks safe, doesn’t mean it is, Jules. I’ve lived her a long time. There have been two rapes, three muggings and a shooting in this neighborhood, and that’s just in the last six months. I’ve never worried too much about it, because Brett and I can both take care of ourselves. But you…”
I leave the sentence hanging out there, and watch as a cloud of concern rolls across her face.
“Then what do you suggest?” she asks, looking up at me with raised eyebrows. “I mean, I can’t not practice.”
I shrug.
“I’ll go with you… when I can. And sometimes Brett has rehearsal up that way.”
“I have a lesson tomorrow. Can one of you go with me now?” she asks.
“Oh, Julia, any night but tonight… The Godfather trilogy is on!”
“But, you guys can stream that any time you want. Do you really have to watch it now?”
I shake my head.
“No, no, no. That would be sacrilege, Jules! It’s a family traditi
on. Our folks are probably home watching it now, too.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“Jeremy, I have a feeling that if I wait for you to go to McInnes with me, I’ll never get to practice.”
I separate from her and hold up my palms to the ceiling.
“Jules, I don’t know what to tell you. This isn’t a great neighborhood, and I’m only thinking about your safety. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were out there in the middle of the night. Of course, if you’d rather go back to your apartment in midtown, then you can be in the practice rooms at all hours of the day and night. Maybe that’s what you should do…”
“No!” she says a little too quickly, a little too emphatically. “No, I want to be here, close to you. I can make it work… I don’t suppose I could practice here?” she asks hopefully.
I shake my head.
“Nope, sorry. The landlord owns the restaurant downstairs, and he doesn’t like any noise from up here. Brett tried it a couple of times and we got a nasty note.”
“Well, I guess it can wait until the morning, I’ll just go in early, before rehearsal.”
“Good idea!” I say, and watch as she unpacks her things and disappears down the hall.
Brett cocks his head and looks at me.
“Since when does Sal have a problem with us playing up here?” he says quietly enough so she won’t hear. “And, I guess it’s time to move, sounds like the neighborhood’s gone to shit!” he stifles a laugh. “Jesus, you make it sound like we live in a war zone!”
I shrug sheepishly and smile.
“It was all I could think of. Scared her though, didn’t it?”
“Are you serious? You even had me scared!” he laughs. “I’m thinking we should be looking for an apartment at the Strathmore ourselves!”
“Maybe after I win that prize money,” I smile.
“Yeah, well, I’m not holding my breath,” he replies, shaking his head.
“You know, I haven’t seen that little flutist of yours in a while… the one with the nice ass. What’s her name? Jennifer? Janine?”
“Jessica,” he corrects me, knowing full well that I know full well what her name is.
“That’s the one! She’s got some rack, too! Where’ve you been keeping her?” I ask, watching as my brother shifts ever so slightly on the couch. Someone’s uncomfortable with this conversation.
“Not here,” he mumbles.
“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you, Brett,” I say with an innocent smile.
“We’ve been staying over at her place,” he says.
“Have you?”
“Jeremy, this is the first night I’ve been home all week,” he says incredulously.
“Huh, I hadn’t noticed. Well, I don’t see what the problem is… you used to bring the other one here all the time… Wendy.”
“Wanda,” he corrects me, a little too sharply.
Sore subject, party of one!
“Right! Wanda. Whatever happened to her?” I ask nonchalantly.
Brett glares at me. I love this game. Push push push those buttons and watch his blood pressure rise.
“You mean after I came home and found her screwing you?” he asks in an equally casual manner. “I’m not sure. We just kind of fell out of touch after that.”
And to think, the stupid bitch thought it was her who I wanted to fuck that night!
Brett’s no dummy, but he does forget the cardinal rule sometimes. What’s mine is mine, and what’s his is mine… if I want it. It’s the rule he’s always lived by to keep the peace between us. I didn’t particularly want Wanda; I just thought my brother needed a little reminder.
“Too bad, that girl gives great head,” I say regretfully. “But, I guess you already knew that,” I say with the slightest hint of a smile playing on my lips. “Now, by the sound of your sleepovers with Jessica, I’d say that girl has some skills, too…”
“Fuck you, Jeremy,” he says before I can even finish my sentence. Then, he’s up and headed down the hall, slamming the door loud enough that Julia comes out to see what happened.
“Everything okay out here?” she asks, her face scrunched up with concern.
“Yeah, we’re good, Jules. Brett just gets choked up every time he sees the part where Sonny gets ambushed at the toll booth.” I pat the seat next to me. “Come and watch with me,” I say, holding up an arm for her.
“I hadn’t realized Brett’s so sensitive,” she replies as she snuggles into me.
“Oh, he’ll get over it,” I mutter. “He always does.”
31
Julia is sound asleep when I get up for a glass of water and silently snatch her cell phone from the nightstand. I slip out of my bedroom and into the kitchen. When I turn it on, its bright white light displaces the dark, and I have to blink until my eyes adjust. A few swipes and pokes later, I find several text messages from Matthew that she’s neglected to tell me about.
I miss you. Please come home.
You’ll be home for Christmas, won’t you? I miss you.
Can we talk? Please call me.
Cal says he hasn’t seen you in the practice rooms for a while. Are you okay?
I’ll be at the Kreisler finalists’ announcement because I know they’re going to call your name!
No responses from Julia to any of these, and further inspection shows me that she doesn’t return his calls either. Good for her. Good for me. If she doesn’t place in the final round, then my job is done and I can concentrate on myself. But, if it turns out that we’re up against each other, well, that’s when the big guns come out.
For now, I’ll just do what I can to keep her more attached to me, and less attached to Matthew, and to her cello, for that matter. I glance at the time on the microwave. It’s a quarter till four. We have orchestra rehearsal at nine, and I know she set her alarm for five, so she could be up at McInnes by six. With a single swipe, I ensure that little alarm will never see the light of day. I return the phone to its place and climb back into bed, careful not to wake my sleeping beauty.
By eight-fifteen, she’s neither sleeping nor beautiful as she wakes with a start and proceeds to fly around the apartment in a panic. She doesn’t live around the corner from the conservatory anymore, so last minute isn’t an option.
“I don’t understand!” she whines as she rummages through my closet, looking for the clothes she’s hung in there. “How come my alarm didn’t go off? That’s never happened before!”
I shrug as I sit on the corner of the bed, fully dressed and ready to go, sipping a cup of coffee.
“And why didn’t you wake me?” she asks, stopping to turn and shoot me a glare.
“Jules, how was I supposed to know? When I got up, you were still in bed, so I figured you’d decided to sleep in this morning. It wasn’t until it got later that I realized something might be wrong.”
“Oh, God, I am so screwed,” she is mumbling from inside the closet.
I smile a little into my coffee cup.
“Okay, well, I’m going to get going,” I say, standing up.
Julia stops what she’s doing and pulls out of the closet to stare at me, incredulously.
“What? You’re going to go without me?”
“Well, there’s no sense in both of us being late, right? And besides, how would it look if we both came in late. Together.”
“Like we spent the night together; like we’re dating, Jeremy. That’s what we’re doing isn’t it? Or are you having second thoughts already.”
“No, Jules! I’m just thinking that there’s no point in both of us getting into trouble…”
“Fine, you go on ahead,” she says in her best ‘don’t you dare leave me here’ tone. But I pretend to be just another oblivious guy.
“Alright, then. See you there,” I say, ignoring her anger and frustration as I walk out the door.
****
When she finally does make it to rehearsal, Maestro Hagen is in a foul mood. He has one of the flute players on the verg
e of tears just as Julia appears and slips silently into her chair. Unfortunately for her, she is not invisible. Hagen spots her and stops, mid-sentence, to level his steeliest stare on her.
“Miss James,” he says. “You are aware that rehearsal started fifteen minutes ago, no?”
“Yes, Maestro,” she whispers, so quietly that I don’t think even Mila can hear her.
“What was that, Miss James? I cannot hear you. Speak up!” he says, his own volume rising considerably.
With her hair high on her head in a bun, Julia’s neck is bare. Even from back here I can see the crimson tide that’s creeping steadily up toward her face.
“Mouse!” comes a catcall from somewhere in the violin section. The Maestro doesn’t take notice as he waits for Julia’s response.
“Yes, Maestro,” she says, louder this time.
“Miss James, do you believe that, as a Kreisler competitor, you no longer have to follow the same rules as everyone else?” he asks her in his German accent.
“No, Maestro,” she says, shaking her head.
“I’m not so sure about that, Miss James. This is incredibly rude and unprofessional behavior. Please stand and apologize to your colleagues!” he orders.
Julia sets her cello down on its side on the floor and stands up. She is visibly trembling, and there is a quaver to her voice when she speaks.
“I– I apologize for being late and disrupting the rehearsal. It won’t happen again,” she says, clearly close to tears.
The Maestro gives her a ‘humph!’ and continues to glare, still not satisfied.
“Miss James, I believe you should pack your cello and go. I do not wish to see your face again today. And next time you are late, I will not wish to see your face again ever. Do you understand?”
She nods silently, presumably because she’s unable to speak at this point. I watch as she snatches her music off the stand and tucks it under her arm, grabbing the cello and bow with her hands. She slips off the stage and into the wings as quickly and quietly as she entered.
“Miss Strassman, today you are principal cello!” Hagen declares.
But Mila isn’t paying attention; she’s looking back over her shoulder to where Julia has just exited.