Page 58 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
“Actually, I was planning to do exactly that.” I shrug.
“But why?” Julie leans forward as though she’s about to impart a secret of the universe. “That woman’s doing it on purpose to humiliate you.”
I snort back a laugh at Julie’s overactive imagination. “Her name is Yuna, and she isn’t.”
“She wants to feel superior to us. Couldn’t you tell?”
“No, and I don’t know why you would think that. If she were, she would’ve picked something more complicated.”
“It’s Rachmaninoff!”
“So?” Julie’s right about Rachmaninoff being difficult, but I’m not saying more. She doesn’t know about my memory loss or that I can play pieces I practiced before the coma. I don’t plan to change that anytime soon. Yuna thinks it’s some kind of demonstration to show that I’m capable of doing duets. What she doesn’t know is that it’s my test to see if she’s telling the truth. If she’s honest about us having played it together, I’ll hit the notes without much problem.
“She picked it on purpose because I couldn’t find the sheet music anywhere around here. I had to drive all the way to Anaheim!”
“Oh my gosh, you shouldn’t have.”
“I’m not letting her embarrass you.”
“Julie, It’s fine. Really. I don’t care if I can’t play it. And it isn’t like I can memorize the whole piece in the next hour and a half or something.”
“You don’t have to memorize. I can flip the pages for you.”
Hold on.Why did I say memorize? Julie’s right. Pianists who play non-solo pieces don’t have their music memorized. You always have somebody flipping pages. But it just felt so natural to talk about committing the entire piece to memory, like I’ve done it before with duet pieces.
“Anyway, let’s practice,” Julie says, interrupting my train of thought.
“No. I’m going to nap for a bit. I have to if I want to be fresh.”
“How can you nap at a time like this?” she demands, her voice shrill.
“Very easily. I’m exhausted from my morning practice.”
She looks at the music. “You were working on Chopin études?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Oh my God! Aren’t you worried?”
Julie’s ear-splitting objections are making my head hurt. I raise a hand. “If you’ll let me nap for half an hour, I promise I’ll practice the piece.”
“No! If you’re tired, just have coffee. I’ll make some for you right now.”
Julie runs off to the kitchen, and I thunk my head on the piano. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited her. Her indignation and anxiety are driving me crazy.
“Sure you don’t want me to run the Chihuahua off?” comes Bobbi’s amused voice.
“No. Don’t. Just…” I lift my head and sigh. “I’m going to have that coffee and pretend I’m fine.” As annoying as the situation is, Julie means well. It could be I’m just being sensitive. My cramps are making me a little crankier than normal.
I sip the coffee slowly. I appreciate Julie trying to help, but I’m not interested in spending more of my time practicing when I’m already tired. I didn’t work on “Mazeppa” for a reason—it’s too taxing.
But Julie isn’t deterred. She keeps going on and on about how awful Yuna is for forcing this duet on me when I hate it. “You don’t like to play with me either, and I get it. I can’t always keep up, right? So it’s ridiculous she’s insisting on this. Like you have to jump to do her bidding just because she’s rich or whatever.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. But honestly, I’m ready to tear my hair out. Bobbi gives me her patented arched eyebrow. This time it means Sure you don’t want me to toss her out?
I shake my head, then flip the pages of the music Julie brought, hoping it’ll shut her up. It does…for about ten minutes. She’s upset I’m not playing the music. So I practice scales instead.
“Gotta warm up,” I tell her.
