Still Life with Strings (28 page)

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.

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.