Page 81 of The Alternate Captain
Tom pulls out all the stops on his acting since he knows that Johnny and I aren’treallya couple. He flings his arms around me and squeezes. “Oh, babe. I’m so sorry. When did this happen?”
“Oh, a few days ago,” I say. “It’s still fresh, so can we not mention it again?”
Tom tries to soothe me. “Do you want to get a drink? Talk about it?”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I say, my attention pulled to the live stream that’s still playing on his phone.
“Let me turn this off,” he says, turning the volume up a few notches as he fumbles with the buttons.
I catch a glance of Johnny standing at the edge of the rink with the rest of the team skating around behind him. He’s talking about the team’s performance on the weekend, and how they’re set up for another full weekend of hockey.
“It’s not an outfit, by the way,” I say, nodding towards Tom’s phone when he shuts it off.
“What is your obsession with him, Tom?” Darren asks, bitterness in his tone.
“Look at him,” Tom says, flashing his phone screen towards him. He’s still got Johnny plastered on the wallpaper of his phone.
“I’ve seen him. He looks like someone from a Marks and Spencer’s catalogue, yes, but don’t swoon over him after he’s broken up with Kelly.”
I couldn’t roll my eyes any harder. Like he actually cares.
“How do you know Kelly didn’t break up with him?”
That starts an argument I tune out, using this as an excuse to leave. I take my cello and leave through the side entrance, but Patrick, the course director, stops me in my tracks.
“Kelly. I was hoping to catch you. How are things going now that Darren has agreed to adjust the composition?”
Instantly, I switch into schmoozing mode.
I tell him about the re-work I’ve done, and how I’ve added depth to the supporting melody. Basically, I tell him what he wants to hear, giving him no reason to make me stay for longer than I need to.
“We’re going to run through things on the weekend,” I conclude.
“Perfect. That reminds me, please make sure Darren’s tie compliments your outfit when you present your pieces.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“And let me know if there’re any issues at all. I shouldn’t tell you this officially, but I think there are some casting producers scheduled to attend at least one of your performances.”
My heart leaps right into my throat, and I can hardly get parting words out.
If Patrick is right, then this could be an enormous opportunity for me. This could mean getting to play at the next level. It could mean that my future is a little more secure than it is today.
I take my cello to the single use practice rooms, fuelled with a fresh tank of adrenaline to push into practising, grateful to find one free at the end of the corridor. Whilst I unpack my things and ready myself to play, I find my mind drifting back to Johnny because all I want to do right now is call him and tell him the news.
Tom’s great, and so are Sally and Marie, our other housemates, but they will probably dull this down, make out it’s only another person watching the showcases that Darren and I will be doing.
Johnny will understand.
I set my cello down on its side, then rummage around in my bag for my phone. And I remember his live stream, which I pull up a few moments later. I catch it in time to see him thanking the fans for their continued support before it cuts. And of course, when it loads to playback, I watch the whole thing from the start.
It sounds wild, but Johnny’s role as the captain, and my own as the lead cellist, demonstrates how alike yet completely different we both are. And when he talks about his team, it’s how I feel about the others in the orchestra—except Darren.
I’m completely fixated on Johnny, watching the way he holds his stick, taking note that he shoots right.
Whoever is interviewing him asks about his feelings on the upcoming season, but I don’t listen to his answer, I’m watching his lips. Thinking about how they felt when he kissed me. How they look when they curve into a smile.
The video halts when my phone vibrates in my hand. Charlotte’s voice comes ringing through the speaker as soon as Ianswer. We chit-chat briefly before she reminds me of the failed double date. That night was everything before quickly turning into a shit show.
