The DJ and The Cellist

Chapter Thirteen

***

Octavia stared dumbly at the crowd as she sat next to Vinyl by the stage.

Five minutes since the performace ended - and they were already being avoided. Vinyl did not seem to take it close to heart, but Octavia knew it was her fault. The cellist was on the verge of crying. How could she be so foolish! She knew - she knew! - that... that acting the way she acted! Such ignorance! The high society would never accept her again!

...Not that they had ever accepted her fully.

"Hey, Tavi, you okay?" The weight of Vinyl's hand gifted Octavia's shoulder with its genle touch.

"Yes." Octavia frowned. "No. No, I'm not okay. We... I failed." Octavia shut her eyes, pressing her face into her DJ's shoulder. "The performance was awful."

Vinyl lifted the cellist's chin with her fingers, holding it tight, so that Octavia's teary pools of lavender looked directly into Vinyl's abysses of red. "You were magnificent," the disk-spinner claimed firmly. "The performance was great. The audience failed miserably, that's it."

"They are our judges, Vinyl," the cellist replied sadly. "They are the people who determine the future of the music world. They are the moneybags. Do you see any of them coming up to us, offering contracts?"

Vinyl winced a little. "Well, we scared them a little, with that kiss." Exactly, Octavia thought with a sigh. "But hey, if it weren't for the law, I'd totally fuck you right there on the stage," the DJ purred hotly into her cellist's ear. "And, if you hadn't kissed me then, I would have kissed you anyway. Wouldn't you still do it if you had a chance to go back in time?" Because I would.

"I... I'm not sure," Octavia admitted. "I don't know."

"That's..." Vinyl  paused darkly. "That's not the answer I wanted to hear."

Octavia nodded grimly. "I know."

Vinyl fell silent, grasping at something in the pocket of her trousers. Octavia could swear that the DJ still obeyed her ridiculous habit of keeping her mobile phone in the trousers pocket. But then again, she wasn't exactly male, so...

"A very... bold performance, ladies."

Octavia lifted her eyes, only to a see a very eccentric, yet positively dashing, middle-aged man, his fine moustache, as well as his hair, dyed a fine shade of blue, a monocle on his eye, and a smile on his face. It's him! Him! Francisc Pantomino, the local patron saint of all musicians, a man greater than Maecenas himself, and he was now standing right in front of her, congra-

With a tiny nod, the man departed towards the front of the stage, on which a grand piano now rested, brought conveniently for a performance. His performance. Octavia found herself thinking about Frederic - and her ensemble. His ensemble. Their performance would be valued way more, and contracts would flow like the waters of life... And, of course, Frederic wouldn't be so... expressive. Like Vinyl. He wouldn't be so possessive if... No, that's a ridiculous thought. Octavia wanted to punish herself for such a thought. She had never imagined Frederic as her boyfriend. Right? Right. And she would not. They were... They had been friends. Good friends. The best of friends. And all this time... Frederic had been longing for her? No, she had to ask. She knew Vinyl would not want it, but... she had to talk to him.

Frederic took the stage.

He sat down at the grand piano. Alone. He took the microphone. He spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I am honoured beyond belief that I have been invited to perform at this gathering. I would like to present a few of my favourite works composed by the genius composers of the past generations, as well as several original compositions that my own genii have inflicted upon yours faithfully."

A few laughs from the audience at the skilful wordplay. A few coughs. And then - Frederic began to play.

Not a word of the quartet, Octavia observed idly as she stared, unable to avert her eyes, at the pianist. He was handsome - objectively. He was prim and tall - objectively. He was polite and well-mannered - objectively. He was well-educated and witty - objectively. And yet, he was alone. Now, more than ever, Octavia was sure that they all left him. Harpo. Beauty. And - yes, Fiona. She had poisoned him, exploited his wealth, maybe even - argh, definitely! - made use of his body and then left him. As she had always done before. Octavia gritted her teeth.

Vinyl looked at her cellist. Octavia was drifting away from her - at least mentally. She knew it. Following her gaze to the stage, the DJ once more knew that the issue was still present. There was something between her and Frederic - or had been something. There had to! I'll kill him, Vinyl thought in surprising calmness. Just jump on the stage and strangle him. Because if I can't be with Octavia, no one will be with her. Do the poison trick, maybe? A classic. Poison his cup, and hers, and mine. Vinyl shook her head. No, that was ridiculous.

"Now," Frederic said, upon finishing a few classical pieces followed briefly by some compositions of his own - naturally composed for solo piano, "I would like to finally make use of this microphone here, if you don't mind." The audience pretty much erupted in laughter. As the performance progressed, more and more people kept gathering before the stage, mesmerised by the man's skill. And what a skill it was! His fingers were guided by the divine, Octavia was sure, as he kept playing, his eyes closed, sheet music forgotten. It could not be put to words. If her (and Vinyl's) performance could be put to words - with some difficulty, naturally - this, here... It was indescribable. "I wrote this song - and yes, it is a vocal piece - for a woman that I love. A woman that I have loved all my life. A woman that I want to be with for the rest of my life." Men in the audience clapped approvingly, their hearts softened and their disposition won by the perfect reindition of the classics Frederic had performed, while women, mostly their wives, ooh-ed and aah-ed, teary-eyed.

Frederic began to play - a simple introduction, a simple progression, simple, easy chords. Almost blues. Almost pop. Almost a rock ballad.

All my life, I have searched for you.

All my life, I have been unsure.

Now, my love, I have found you.

Tell me - was it really true?

Octavia's mouth fell agape as she felt Frederic cast a minute, tiny, imperceptible glance at her - even though his eyes were mostly focused on Fiona, who stood not far from the stage, at the side. At the same side she and Vinyl were.

Easy words, I have never heard.

Easy life, I have never sought.

You escaped, never said a word.

Tell me - what have you ever got?

Vinyl stared at Octavia, her breath quickening, her eyelids twitching, dancing a wild dance, her hands sweaty. She had to stop this! She could not lose Octavia! This bastard - he was singing for her girl! No, now that she had realised the power of a relationship, now that she knew her place in the relationship, she would not let Octavia go! Stupid, ridiculous insecurities of pre-relationship Vinyl! Afraid of losing her? Afraid of letting her go? Afraid of breaking up with her? Never!

Tumble down, bring the truth to me.

Then ascend, so that we'll be free.

Now that you will be here with me

Forever after - tell me, is it true?

"Yes!" Fiona exclaimed, unable to hold her tears, which were now streaming freely upon her cheeks. Frederic smiled and finished the song - just in time for Fiona to climb onto the stage and throw herself into the pianist's embrace. Octavia was convinced that this was a well-planned act. Or not.

The cellist observed calmly as the pianist embraced his woman tightly - but respectfully. No funny business. No kisses, even pecks, not to mention make-out sessions. Yes... This was what she and Vinyl had done wrong. This was what Frederic and Fiona had done right. There was no silence. The audience went wild with excitement. The applause was thunderous. This, here, was not perversion. This, here, was not public indecency. This, here, was just a loving embrace of two people in love. A fine, good-looking man and a radiant woman in a stunning black dress. Yes. This, here, was what the audience wanted to see.

Frederic descended from the stage, holding Fiona's hand, smiling at the audience, mouthing, Thank you every time he passed someone, shaking hands back and forth. Finally, he approached Octavia and Vinyl. Fiona glared at the cellist. Octavia glared at Fiona. Vinyl glared at Frederic. Frederic looked at his pocket watch.

"Frederic, can we have a talk? Alone?" Octavia asked finally, gathering up her courage.

Frederic looked at Fiona, who shrugged simplly. Vinyl fumed. No! No, you can't talk, not to mention alone! You will go home with me, Octavia. You will. Because I want you to. "Sure, Tavi, go ahead." The DJ took a few steps away, still near enough to overhear what the two musicians were saying. Fiona vanished in the crowd of well-dressed women who congratulated her with such a stunning breed.

"I don't have much time, Octavia." Frederic's expression was, as always, unreadable. "I have to talk to a few people and choose a contract that'll suit me well."

But of course you do. Octavia chewed on her lip. "You were playing alone. Where are Harpo and Beauty?"

"They quit," Frederic replied simply. "I thought they would have talked to you already."

No, they haven't. Octavia took a deep breath. Keep it short. No ensemble talk. No performance talk. Focus on the truth of the matter. "I know you love me." Again, a blank expression from the pianist. "I know it, Freddie. All these years, ever since we were children. Now I know. But I... I can't. I'm attached. I'm with Vinyl now." Did that sound like a burden? "I know this is why you are dating Fiona. But you don't know her! She's not the same as she was when we were teenagers! You don't need her, that lying bitch!" Now Octavia knew she was losing it. But she couldn't stop.

However, Frederic stopped her. "Why are you speaking ill of my bride?"

Octavia blinked in shock. "I... Your what?!"

"Not 'what'. 'Who'. I proposed to Fiona two hours ago. And she said yes."

Octavia felt like collapsing on the ground. Still, she stood steadfast.

Frederic carried on. "Have you ever thought, Octavia, that I may in fact have loved Fiona all this time? Have you ever thought that, when she left, I fell in love with you too because you reminded me so much of her? And have you ever thought that, no matter who she was, she is my woman and that I have certain feelings for her? Have you thought, Octavia Philarmonica, that maybe - just maybe - I don't love you any more because I have my Fiona now?"

Octavia did collapse to her knees this time, weak and limp. Why was she reacting in such a way? Why was rejection making her so pathetic? She had her Vinyl, and- And this isn't true. Octavia stood up. "I know you still love me, Frederic. And you're marrying a woman that you don't love. It's the song." Octavia smiled. "I knew you sang it for me. It was aimed at me, not her. It could seem otherwise, but-"

"Maestro Horoshevsky!"

Fransics Pantomino approached the two, shaking hands with the pianist. "Such a brilliant performance!" he congratulated the younger man in a slight, thin accent. "May I talk to you for a moment?"

Frederic smiled. "Even for an hour, Senor Pantomino. I am done here."

With that, the two men walked away, laughing and talking.

Octavia stood, unblinking, looking as Frederic Horoshevsky disappeared in the crowd. Vinyl walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Tavi, are you all right?"

Octavia frowned. "Yes. I... I'm all right." I'm not all right, and you know it.

Vinyl winced. Damn you, Frederic! I will kill you for this someday. You son of a- You! If she doesn't- If she... It's your fault, Frederic Horoshevsky, remember that. "Tavi, I want to talk to you for a moment - in private. It's... important." Her hand made its way to the pocket of her trousers nervously.

Octavia sighed. "I'm sorry, Vinyl. Not now. I want to be alone for a while."

With that, the cellist turned around and walked away from the DJ, from the garden, from Harpo and Beauty, from Fiona, and from Frederic Horoshevsky.

Vinyl's fingers squeezed the box in her pocket painfully as her eyes stared lifelessly before her. It'll pass. It'll still be all right, for the two of us. We'll overcome it. Their relationship would still thrive. But, for now... Vinyl squeezed the box again before taking her hand out of the pocket.

Apparently, the ring would have to wait.