CHAPTER 29 (1)

“You going to ‘practice’ with Timothy again?” I’m walking past Andi'e’s open dorm door with my bag and jacket when her voice has me pulling up. I step into her doorway, taking in the sight of my friend reclined on her bed, notebook in her lap. “What’s with the finger quotes?” I ask. “You’ve been spending every second together all week. If your strategy is to get close enough to back stab the competition, you’re running out of time.” “We’re competing, but our biggest competition is the dozens of other people auditioning.” She cocks her head. “You realize there’s only one closing spot.” Which is why even though we’ve practiced together a few times, those long looks and teasing touches have been as far as it’s gone. “I wanted to give you that night. So many times in my head, I did.” The recipe for a sleepless night starts with Timothy Adams telling you he thinks about all the things you never did together. I’ve spent a few hours wrapped in sweaty sheets thinking of them, too. But I’m thinking about why I’m here at Vanier and my goals. With the auditions happening Monday, the closing spot is close enough I can taste it. My phone jumps in my pocket with a text. Unknown: It’s Frank. Meet me out front of the school in fifteen minutes for intensive. Annie: I thought we were meeting tomorrow? Unknown: Change of plans. If you can do right now, it’ll be worth your while. I tell Andie about the message. “Is this normal for faculty to take students off campus for weird evening sessions?” she asks. “I’m not sure Frank follows the rules.” But I’m intrigued. “We’re all still going out tomorrow night, right?” Andie asks as I start toward the hall. “Yeah. My friend Avery and the guy she’s seeing suggested a place they like.” I go down to the first floor and turn toward the main lobby. A black car’s pulled up at the curb, and the window buzzes down, revealing Frank inside the backseat. I shift into the car, pull the door behind me. “Some people think being double-booked is a conflict,” he says once I’m in. “I think it’s an opportunity. I’m playing a show tonight. Figured you could keep me company.” I glance out the window as the city passes us by. “I haven’t been to a show in… months.” “Then you’re in for a treat.” Two hours later, we’re at a venue in Jersey. The audience is a few thousand people—loud, screaming. They’re not here for me, but from the moment I take up a post in the shadows backstage, I close my eyes and pretend they are. This is what it feels like to make a name for yourself. Frank runs off partway through, sweating, and checks the set list while he gets touch-ups. “I know what you’re thinking.” “What’s that?” “That the purpose of your intensive at Vanier is to hone your craft, not mine.” “Well, yeah, but this is fun,” I admit. With a grin, he points at the next track on the set list. “You know this track?” I nod. “Drop in on it.” There’s a cocky angle to his grin, and I blink at him in astonishment. “I’m not warmed up, I’m in the wrong clothes, and I don’t have performance makeup.” But he jerks his head as he jogs back on stage, and I slowly follow him. His bassist steps back, gesturing to the mic. So, I take it. I’ve been on stage a dozen times in the last few years, but none of the small productions I’ve done have felt like this. This is freedom—an orgy of lights and sound and love and feeling. It’s not my song, but the audience sings along, pulsing right there with me. Backstage after, Frank downs a bottle of water. “That was incredible,” I gush. “This is the contemporary music program. Not ‘break your back bending over your violin for twenty years until someone lets you play second in a symphony.’ You saw that crowd. You think they’d pay two hundred bucks a seat to see Mozart?” “Mozart’s dead.” “Exactly.” He grins. “Listen,” I start. “I want to run my audition piece for the showcase by you once more. I’ve been making some changes, and I’d love your input. Would you have time tomorrow?” Frank cocks his head. “You didn’t hear.” “Hear what?” My heart kicks in my chest. “First years are being disqualified from auditioning this year. ” He reaches for his phone, swipes through a few screens. “Looks like it was just in a faculty email that went around today. The first years who signed up will be contacted tomorrow.” “But… why?” “One of the professors adjudicating landed a last minute gig and can’t sit for the full number of auditions. The dean decided to focus on second years, since that’s who the showcase is for anyway.” He shrugs. Disbelief has my throat swelling, my chest tightening. This was my chance, the perfect opportunity to prove why I’m here and get noticed for my own talent, not my name. “That’s bullshit,” I blurt. “Some of us need this chance.” “I’m with you.” Frank holds the door for me, and I force myself to walk through. “Oh, one more thing— I’m gonna be gone the week after the showcase in November. Playing three gigs in LA and San Francisco. I could get you tickets if you’re interested.” I try to focus on his words, but I can’t bring myself to care, because my dreams are going up in smoke. “This is where you hang out?” Rica cranes her neck from her spot in the booth to peer around the packed bar the next night. Avery nods. “It’s mostly Columbia students.” “There’s no stage,” Andie notes. Rica, Avery, Andie, and I are crowded around a booth Saturday night. I’m trying to enjoy the atmosphere, but it’s hard given I’m still reeling from the fact that all my work this semester—hell, for the last two years—will come to nothing. I need this showcase to remind myself I made the right choice. That I’m at Vanier for a reason and that I have a chance of making it in this business on my own merit. I glance toward the bar, catching a glimpse of the guy Avery’s seeing with Timothy, Jacob, and a couple of guys from school. “Dave seems cool,” I say, forcing myself to think of my friends. “He is. I never thought I’d date an engineer. I always figured they’d be too…” “Cocky?” “Reductionist.” The guys at the bar are all objectively good-looking. Avery’s guy is cute and preppy, Jacob’s got that “I’m hot and I know how to use it” look, but Timothy’s the most commanding, his Henley pulling tight over his shoulders and chest. He’s still the rebel prince, but he’s opened up. Whether he knows it or not, he’s let this place in, let Jacob and the others in. Some girls interrupt the guys, talking and flirting, and my hand clenches around my glass. “Oh, I wondered how long this would take,” Avery drawls. Andie leans in. “What?” I stare at my high school friend pointedly, but she waves me off. “Timothy and Emily go back.” Rica narrows her eyes, and Andie scoffs, “This is new information.” “Yes, Avery,” I warn. Avery holds up a hand. “Don’t try to scare me with your four syllables. I’m not talking out of turn here. Just saying you guys have some especially angsty baggage.” My attention drags back to the girl smiling at Timothy . “She’s thinking about dragging that girl across the floor by her hair,” Rica deadpans. Andie laughs, and Avery grins. I have no right to feel that way, but as we’ve rehearsed together over the past week, it’s gotten harder and harder not to feel something for him. “What’s he like in bed?” Andie asks, and I choke on my drink. “We never slept together,” I say when I stop coughing. “Oh, that does explain the tension.”