Birth of Adam (Artificial Intelligence Book 2) (15 page)

He hung up. “I am sorry, my dear, but our dinner plans must be cancelled, and I require your absolute focus. Can you do that?”

“I’m going to sing Camille?” she asked in happy shock.

“Yes, and you are going to sing it as Don intended his aria to be sung,” he assured her. “Whatever you have planned for tomorrow, cancel it as well. We will focus on nothing else until you have perfected the piece.”

Chapter Seventeen

 

Amanda convinced Bastion that she had to eat or she’d never survive the long, arduous night he had planned for her. Instead of returning to the school, she suggested they meet at her house and dinner could be served to everyone he invited.

To her relief, he agreed, declaring it the perfect place to practice.

Sondra took the news dinner was now for ten people quite well. In fact, Sondra seemed already to have known of the change. Amanda wondered if Adam or Andrew had told her.

She suspected it had to have been Adam, because she doubted Andrew had realized what monsieur was planning before she had. However, Adam always seemed a step ahead.

When they arrived home, her house was filled with people. She recognized everyone except for two men—a young man warming up his voice and an older man instructing him. The other three attending were Simon, her music theory professor; Richart, her vocal instructor; and Pinchot, her composition professor.

She had initially wondered why a master composer and a music theorist were required. After an initial sight-read of the entire aria, which she mangled horribly, she was very glad for their assistance and listened attentively as they helped make sense of the complex masterpiece.

The young man’s name was Anon, and his expression had been noncommittal until she sang. Now he held her in contempt and disdain. Thus, she decided to ignore him altogether. There was no reason she needed to be friends with Anon the arrogant. Their pieces were separate.

Pushing Anon from her mind, Amanda focused on Simon and Pinchot’s advice. After a long lecture, she sang the piece again. While better, it remained horribly flawed, and she was grateful when Andrew announced dinner. She noticed only seven plates had been set. When she looked at Andrew, he shook his head with firm intensity, and she gave in. She doubted they wished to sit with a group who would speak of nothing but music theory.

To her surprise, some of their lectures went to Anon, and this angered him greatly. On several occasions he insisted he knew the piece very well.

His instructor gripped his arm and whispered harsh words into his ear. Anon apologized and requested Simon to continue his lecture.

Anon’s insincerity was impossible to ignore, and Simon looked as if he were going to stop his lecture, but Bastion declared young talent was often foolish. Simon sighed and repeated his point.

Even though his comments were addressing Anon’s piece, Amanda listened intently and interrupted him once with a question. Before Simon could answer, Anon snapped at her. “Quiet! This is not your concern.”

Simon smiled at her. “Excellent question, Amanda.” He then explained it to Anon.

When Sondra asked if they would like dessert, Bastion asked her to hold it for a few hours.

Returning to the music room, Anon sang his piece again. Amanda felt put to shame. Despite the young man’s obnoxious personality, he definitely had the skill to match his arrogance. While not perfect, he was far superior to the singer she had heard that afternoon at the opera house and greatly beyond her own sad abilities.

Bastion was not nearly as impressed and yelled at him for his miserable performance.

“I’m a thousand times better than her!” Anon insisted, thrusting his finger in Amanda’s direction.

“This is not a competition! Your goal is perfection, and you are far from the mark,” Bastion snapped. “What have you been doing for the last month? Other than a swollen ego, I perceive no improvement at all!” He glared at Anon’s instructor as he said this, evidently holding the man to blame.

“He can do it better,” the man assured Bastion, then glared at Amanda as if it were her fault Anon wasn’t singing perfectly.

“Is it your belief Amanda is hampering Anon’s performance?”

“Yes!” Anon and his instructor replied in unison.

“She isn’t ready for such a role,” Anon added. “She will taint my performance.”

“Very well. Tomorrow you two will practice apart. “Michel, you, Pinchot and Anon will train in the vestibule while Richart and Simon remain here with Amanda. 

“No! She will train in the vestibule and I will train here!” Anon insisted. “Why should she be provided the better space?”

“Because this is her home, and you are most fortunate she has not thrown you out tonight. Had I been in her situation, you would have been gone before dinner,” Bastion replied.

He then took in a deep breath. “Now go home and rest your voice from your tirades. Clearly you are in no mood to work tonight. However, be warned, Anon, if you do not show marked improvement tomorrow, you will not audition on Monday.”

“What about her?” he demanded.

“Amanda is not your concern. Her fate depends entirely upon her ability to perfect this music.”

Evidently satisfied that meant she would not be auditioning, Anon and his instructor left the house.

Amanda improved markedly now Anon was gone. The fact annoyed Bastion greatly.

“You cannot allow arrogant fools to lessen your performance,” he chided. “There will always be an Anon, either on stage or in the wings. You must trust and protect your gift. Do not let them diminish you!”

“I will try,” she promised him.

“Do not try! Make certain!”

“My problem is that I was certain he hadn’t diminished me. I thought I had successfully put him out of my mind. I was not distracted or unsure of myself. I believed I was doing my very best, but clearly I was not, given I sang the song much better this time.”

“Bastion, it is possible Amanda sang better because she improves each time she sings it,” Simon suggested.

“Sing it again,” Bastion ordered.

A new level of pressure overwhelmed her. If she failed to improve, Bastion would declare her susceptible to other singers’ contempt, and if that were the case, there would be no hope for a career in music.

She smiled as she realized that would mean she would have to become a composer, and with such a pleasant alternative career ahead, she relaxed and focused on singing the piece to perfection. While the song was impossibly challenging, now that she understood what the composer wanted to achieve, she found it easier to sing. She focused on the intent and trusted her voice to hit the complex ripple of notes up and down the scale.

When she’d finished, her audience remained silent. Finally, Bastion approached her and kissed her on the lips. “Simon is correct. You are improving with each attempt. That was most beautiful.” He breathed in with satisfaction. “Let us celebrate with dessert and wine.”

Bastion went down into the wine cellar while Amanda let Sondra know they were ready for dessert. When the headmaster returned, he insisted Sondra and Andrew join them and promised not to talk too much about music.

He lied, of course. After toasting Amanda as the next Camille, he discussed all the flaws she still needed to fix. Simon and Richart added more of their own.

Finally, Sondra came to her rescue, reminding them Amanda had sung beautifully.

“She did indeed,” Bastion said. “I would not have thought it possible had she not sung the Pion composition so well on a first sight-read without piano accompaniment.”

Richart nodded in agreement. “It was most humbling for the other students.”

Amanda reached over and squeezed Sondra’s hand in thanks for her intervention. She then looked at Bastion. “You do realize I’m going to sing decidedly worse because of this wine?” She finished her glass before anyone could reconsider the wisdom of her having wine.

Bastion laughed and replenished her glass. “We are done for the night. You’ve accomplished far more than I anticipated this evening. Working through tomorrow, I have no doubt you will astound everyone at your audition on Monday.”

Chapter Eighteen

 

Andrew woke her at five in the morning and announced that her professors had returned and demanded their student.

“Send Martin,” she muttered, and buried her head beneath the pillow.

“Breakfast will be served downstairs, but I have brought you a perfect cup of tea.”

She sat up and held out her hands for the tea. After a few sips, she smiled. “Tell them I’ll be down shortly.”

She wanted to wear sweats, but Adam insisted she wear a red silk dress.

“Why?” she asked. “Am I supposed to seduce my professors?”

“Despite their natural preference, you do seem to have an effect on them, but that is not the reason I want you well dressed. I anticipate Jules will stop by.”

“But Bastion forbade him to.”

“Anon left him a very long and complaining message last night, which should guarantee he’ll show up today. I’ve told Sondra to expect an extra person for lunch.”

“Why do I need to look so pretty for Jules? He should only care about my voice.”

“Jules is only interested in beautiful talent. That means beautiful voice and beautiful body. He understands marketing talent better than anyone. The red dress will remind him why you are worth all this trouble.”

“Am I causing him trouble?” she asked in surprise.

“Nothing he can’t handle,” Adams assured her. “Just wear the red dress and everything will be fine.”

All three men stopped talking when she descended the stairs, wearing her red dress and heels.

“You do remember we are working on your music all day?” Bastion asked.

“I do,” she assured him. “I just thought I should dress up and wear heels in preparation for tomorrow’s audition. It wouldn’t do to discover I can only sing in flats.”

Adam then reminded her of her walking lesson today.

“Oh...but I do actually have an appointment at ten.”

“Cancel it.”

“I’m not canceling it,” Adam warned her.

“It’s only an hour. A Mr. Davis is supposed to come and teach me how to walk.”

“Paul Davis?” Richart asked. When Amanda nodded, he turned to Bastion. “She needs him. She walks like a cow.”

“Don’t cancel,” Bastion said.

“I am very pleased you took my advice,” Richart said. “And most impressed you were able to get Paul Davis to agree to help you. Does he know you are an American?”

“I don’t know. My friend Adam hired him for me. Does he dislike Americans?”

“Detests them!”

“Well, yes, but I meant more than other Frenchmen,” she teased.

“We will only speak French, and he will not discover you are American until he has fallen in love with you, and then it will not matter,” Simon assured her.

After Amanda sang the entire aria, Bastion congratulated her on improving further, then focused in on the flaws remaining.

By the time Paul Davis arrived at ten to teach the cow to walk, she was very happy to escape singing and most willing to let him mold her bovine waddle into a swan’s glide. He was clearly good friends with all three of the men, and shamelessly flirted with Monsieur Bastion. Finally, she understood Adam’s and Jacque’s comments, which left her more confused than ever. If Bastion and Simon were gay, why had they kissed her?

Once she’d improved her walk, Paul flirted with her as well. He especially enjoyed placing his hands on her hips and swaying them back and forth while he pressed his manhood against her buttocks.

She’d hoped someone would come to her rescue, but her professors appeared to be enjoying the show, so she endured his playfulness and tried to focus on his words.

At the end of the hour, he showed no interest in leaving, and Bastion asked Sondra if there was enough food for one more. She assured him there was.

Determined to regain her rightful place in the house, Amanda asked Paul if he would like to join them for lunch. Paul kissed her on her lips and said he would love to.

“You cannot charge her for any more time, Paul. As of now, she is mine again,” Bastion insisted, and led Amanda to the piano.

“I hope he has not undone all our hard work this morning.”

“So do I!”

Bastion chucked her beneath the chin and resumed his seat on the couch.

“Sing it from memory,” Simon suggested as he sat down at the piano. “If you mess up, then we’ll blame it on Paul.”

Amanda laughed at his subterfuge and closed her eyes. She actually found it easier to sing without the sheet music, since the complexity of the scales made it almost impossible to read. By singing instinctively, her emotions seemed stronger. When she’d finished, Paul declared himself in love.

“Stand in line,” Bastion replied, and listed several mistakes he had heard. She wanted to sing it again, but Bastion insisted she rest her voice for at least a half-hour.

“Perhaps lunch is ready?” he suggested.

Amanda smiled at his heavy-handedness and turned toward the kitchen just as Andrew announced in his very fine base voice, “Lunch is served.”

Again Andrew and Sondra did not join them, but she didn’t insist. However, when she saw Martin watching them from the kitchen door, she asked him to join their conversation and after a glance into the kitchen, he sat down beside Bastion and smiled at him. Bastion patted Martin’s back and introduced him to Paul as a musical genius.

“He’s a bit young for you,” Paul said.

Bastion’s smiled disappeared. “Martin is a student and a friend of Miss Carrington’s. His parents are guests in this house, presently in the next room.”

Paul instantly apologized to Martin, Bastion and Amanda. “It was only a tease.”

As if sensing he was at fault, Martin slipped from his chair and returned to the kitchen.

Bastion was angrier than Amanda had ever seen him. “I need to see how my other student is doing. Perhaps you will join me, Paul?” he suggested in a voice that left no doubt Paul would accompany him.

Before either man could stand, the knocker on the front door slammed repeatedly as if an angry woodpecker had arrived and wanted to devour the occupants.

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