Page 16 of Not Another Love Song

Mabel had shown her videos of the New York Philharmonic one rainy Saturday, when she was just starting out on violin. It was Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D Major with Hilary Hahn as the guest violinist. Gwen hadn’t understood what it was all about—why people would pay money to sit in a chamber hall to listen to old music when there were recordings of it. But as she’d watched the conductor, something clicked. She watched intently, trying to figure out what it was he was telling them all with his body and his wand; it was like he was conducting magic. And suddenly she wished more than anything to be in that room and listen to it live.

When the first chair violinist entered from the stage right door and the entire orchestra stood, Gwen turned to Mabel and said, “Is that Hilary Hahn?”

“No, not yet. That’s their leader.”

“I thought the conductor was their leader.”

“He’s their director, and she’s their representative. He takes care of the room and sound. She takes care of them.”

Gwen looked back to the screen. A small Asian woman with long hair and warm cheeks took a bow.

Mabel told her about the first chair: why the position was referred to as the concertmaster, why she got her own entrance and bow, what she did during rehearsals, and how much work she had to take home with her.

Gwen split her focus during the second half, keeping an eye on the first chair as she respectfully stood for the re-entrance of Hilary Hahn, and respectfully watched Hilary Hahn play the second and third movements, and respectfully smiled and applauded.

When the video ended, Mabel asked her why she was frowning.

“Why didn’t the concert—” She tried to remember. “…Concertmaster play the solo? She’s the best, right? It was probably hard for her to let another violinist come in and play lead.”

“Hilary Hahn wasn’t playing lead, though,” Mabel said thoughtfully. “She was playing solo. She was the guest star. Hilary Hahn will go on to other symphonies and other countries, but the concertmaster will always be here, leading them.”

Gwen frowned at her fingernails, trying to understand. Mabel continued, “It’s like inviting a guest over for dinner. Maybe you spend all day cooking the food, but once everyone’s seated at the dinner table, you chat with the guest. It becomes less about the food, but there would be no reason to have a guest over in the first place if you hadn’t made the dinner.”

“If I spent all day making dinner for the New York Philharmonic, I would want them to talk about how good the food was all night,” she grumbled.

Mabel laughed and leaned in to her. “And that’s why you would get your own entrance and your own bow.” She smiled and started closing up the shop, leaving Gwen to ponder whether she wouldn’t rather be a dinner guest for the rest of her life, if the table was only going to thank her once or twice for making them dinner.

As she approached Nathan’s office, she could hear voices inside. She hoped she wouldn’t have to sit here and listen to someone else’s audition. That would be mortifying.

She sat in the chair outside the door and was just closing her eyes to visualize her audition piece when there was a sudden shouting. She jerked, listening to a man’s voice, growling and gruff. “—my whole life!”

Listening closely, she could catch only a few words. “…lead me on?”

Gwen sat silently, praying she wasn’t getting in the middle of something. She heard Nathan’s voice again, but couldn’t make out the words. Nathan sounded calm while the other man’s voice was agitated.

Should she put in her headphones? Gwen hated gossips and eavesdroppers. She blocked out the sound and tried to focus on the sheet music, but the argument persisted.

Just as she wondered whether she needed to call the police, the office door flew open and Xander Thorne stalked out, face furious and hands pushing through his hair.

Gwen stood swiftly, and he stopped, noticing her. His eyes brightened in shock before spinning to yell back at the doorway, “What the fuck is she doing here?”

Gwen felt her breath coming quickly as Nathan stepped out and said, “Xander, stop behaving like a child.” There was an edge of familiarity in his tone.

Xander ignored the comment and pointed at her. “You’ve got to be fucking joking. She has no technique. Her intonation is awful—almost no vibrato. She holds the cello like a subway pole—”

“Cello?” Nathan said, with a curious glance to Gwen. “Gwen is one of our finest violinists. You’ve only been working together for a full year, though, so I understand why it would have been beneath your notice.” He lifted a brow at Xander.

There was a still silence where Gwen could count her own heartbeats. He thought she was auditioning for a cello position? Possibly his cello position?

Then Xander laughed. The deep sound reverberated in her ribs.

He turned his eyes on her and whispered, “Of course.” His gaze dragged over her, sliding around every curve of her legs and hips. “She’ll certainly make for a pretty picture on the brochure. Doesn’t matter if she can play, I guess.” She felt her skin heat, but before she could open her mouth to bite back, he stepped in close, looking down at her. She felt his breath on her forehead. “Be careful with them. They can take it all away from you.”

He shot one last glare at Nathan and then swept down the hall, heavy boots clomping, and the air sizzling as he cut through it.

Gwen waited for the sound of the stairwell door clanking open before she turned back to Nathan. She was surprised to find Ava behind him, almost hidden, with arms crossed and looking at a point in Nathan’s office Gwen couldn’t see.

Nathan cleared his throat and smiled at her. “Gwen.” Like she’d just arrived. “Let’s head down to the auditorium.”

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