Page 40 of Riot Reunion
Sloane shoves him aside, taking custody of the coffee pods, wrinkling her nose when she gets close to him. “You reek like a brewery. Where’s my husband-to-be? Please tell me he didn’t get arrested in Mexico.”
“He was already snoring in your bed, last I saw of him.”
“Thank God. Go and take a shower. I’m getting drunk just standing next to you. Caffeine will be waiting for you by the time you’re out.”
“Lifesaver.” Michael groans as he shuffles out of the kitchen, not sparing me another glance.
“I’m sorry they did that to you,” Sloane says, watching me as she puts the pods back in the cupboard and goes about filling a larger French press with a heaped amount of coffee grounds that she gets from the freezer. “They’re overly cautious. And, let’s face it, they like hazing the younger guys sometimes.”
What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? I can’t get mad ather, but I really am mad.
“Michael and Zeth find themselves involved in some…interestingsituations sometimes. I think they just wanted to know if they could count on you in the future. If they needed you. Y’know?”
Her tone is so even. Calming. I find the ire that was choking me only a second ago is already abating. “I guess,” I answer stiffly. “I wish they’d gone about their interview process differently, though. I have an audition tomorrow. I was supposed to spend the night practicing.”
“Oh? What kind of audition? Acting? Music?” Sloane fills the kettle from the tap and sets it on the stove to boil.
“Music. I play piano. But this is a composition audition. For the Seattle Summer Composition Conservatory. The guy who’s running it next year is a genius. I’ll never get the chance to study under him again. So, yeah. The pressure’s on. I should have been practicing all night…” My mouth keeps moving, words spewing out. Why the fuck do I feel so compelled to tell this person my entire life story? The way she nods as she listens, asking questions, makes me think she’s really interested in what I’m saying, though.
I tell her everything about the conservatory. I gripe about having to go to Michael’s dumb restaurant lunchandopening dinner today. I stop gripingveryquickly once Michael returns to the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist. He ignores both of us, sipping on his coffee while we carry on our conversation, until—
“Merchant? The guy’s name is Merchant?”
I glance over at him. “Yeah. Theo. He was originally going to become a concert cellist, but now he’s moving into medicine.”
Michael nods. “He did a rotation at St. Peter’s. Zee checked him out when he started.”
“Jesus. So overprotective,” Sloane says, but with a level of affection that shows she’s not annoyed. “Yeah, I’ve met him. Weird, huh? Our whole world seems to be six degrees of separation. He’s very smart. Gonna be a…neurologist? At least Ithinkthat’s what he said he wanted to specialize in. Amazing that he’s gonna teach this conservatory.”
“Yeah. It’s going to be a one-off.If I’d been able to work through my piece last night, I might have stood a chance of scoring the position.”I lay on the annoyance thick, so Michael knows I’m still pissed at having my evening commandeered.
“You want a spot on the conservatory?” Michael asks, cradling his coffee like it’s as precious as a newborn baby.
“Hell yes, I do.”
“And you’d be back here in Seattle for a while?”
“At least three months.”
“Carrie would be here, too?”
God, could he be any more transparent? “That’s right. She would. Shame my chances are about one in a thousand now.”
Michael smiles a smile that can only be classified as cryptic. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll get the spot.”
“There are world-class musicians flying in from Switzerland, and Germany, and Austral—”
He traipses out of the kitchen, chuckling to himself. “Like I said, Lovett. I’m sure you’ll get the spot.”
14
PRESLEY
They call it quickening—themoment when you feel your baby move inside you for the first time. I was standing outside the Dunwoodie CVS, soaked by the rain, my hair plastered to my skull, when it happened to me. Almost a month early, the unsettling, strange fluttering sensation had taken me by surprise, a whirlwind of tiny down feathers brushing up against my insides.
My phone had lit up in my hand, a signal flare in the dark, Pax’s name flashing across the screen, and for a split second, the irony of the whole situation had been too much to take; I’d laughed like a mad woman at the ridiculousness of it all.
How long did I chase Pax Davis? How many years did I fantasize about him being mine? And then the moment the fates decide to bring us together, they followed up and threwthiscurveball at us.
