“I don’t know where to park!”

Vinyl gritted her teeth, her eyes running around as she circled the goddamn set of paths that would eventually lead to the club and that were, all of them, strictly pedestrian. “Who the hell makes a club in the city centre!” She slammed her hand against the wheel exhaustedly, glancing at the geology museum that rested conveniently next to the maze of poorly-paved city paths.

“Love, calm down,” Octavia tried to soothe her girlfriend, oblivious to the reason why Vinyl was on edge this evening. “Let’s just drive back and park at that underground parking we saw a few blocks away?” She tugged at her bow tie, just a little nervous herself. After all, this was a small club, and they had rehearsed plenty yesterday… Yes, Devil Octavia winked slyly. “Rehearsed”. The only thing you two rehearsed was your vocal- Angel Octavia delivered a firm, beautiful blow to the little devil.

“No.” Vinyl took a sharp turn resolutely. “That’s it. We’re parking by the museum.” She beeped at the turnpike. Come on! We still need to set the sound, do the check, see if Octavia’s cello needs restringing… Even though she said it doesn’t...

A lazy security officer glanced out of his booth. “To the museum!” Vinyl called out, and the moustached man lifted the turnpike lazily. With a sigh of relief, Vinyl guided the car to one of the numerous parking spots.

Emerging from the car, the women directed their feet in the direction opposite to the museum and began walking. The security officer immediately ran out of his booth. “Hey! Parking is for museum visitors only.”

Octavia opened her mouth to retort, thinking of ways to deal with this, but Vinyl quickly approached the officer, whispered something in his ear, and passed him a few bills. Octavia blinked at such astounding show of power from the usually shy spinner. Granted, Vinyl had grown bolder, she had grown more determined, but… “Love, today, you are very… determined,” Octavia said, following Vinyl’s steps.

Vinyl paled for a moment. She can’t know! She reached for her jacket’s inner pocket and, finding that It was there, exhaled in relief. “I guess you’re just rubbing off of me,” Vinyl said with a wink. Then, realised the implications and blushed thickly, looking away. “I mean, not rubbing me off… I mean, you do rub me off but… Ack!”

Octavia laughed merrily and held the metal door open. Vinyl slid inside, and so did Octavia. The exterior of the club wasn’t grand: it was just a metal door leading to a basement floor in a small old building; but the exterior was amazing. A small wardrobe on the right, stacks of newspapers before them, and a security officer sitting to the left. Past the officer were the bathrooms, and to the right was the path into the only hall of the club.

“Good evening. DJ Pon-3 and her cellist,” Vinyl said to the manager girl who had emerged from the only hall, which, upon peeking in, Vinyl christened The Room. And The Room was fascinating indeed: just a dozen tables, but each of them in a favourable position regarding the stage. In the past, Neon said, before the smoking ban, the place used to be livelier. But it was still cosy and homely.

“Of course, please follow me.” Passing the security officer, Vinyl took a peek at what he was reading. Ulysses? Oh my God. “This is your table for the evening, in case you need to take a break.” The manager girl motioned towards a table in the rightmost corner. All the tables were empty, save for the one in the leftmost corner, which was occupied by an elderly couple. Vinyl smiled and waved at them weakly. The woman returned the gesture. The man didn’t.

“Here is your setup.” The girl departed with a nod, and Vinyl walked up the stage, checking the turntables and plugging in her laptop that she’d just unpacked. Octavia placed the cello case down and sat on the stool. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was all right.

“Hey!” the women heard a familiar voice. They lifted their heads, to see Lyra and Bon-Bon entering the establishment, looking around. “Fancy seeing you here! Thought we would arrive before you.” The manager girl showed them their table. “And guess who we brought?”

In marched Captain Spitfire, wearing her parade uniform, feeling uneasy under the stare of the manager and the security officer. She looked at the stage and brightened up. “Hi, you two. Thought we’d be earlier.”

The old man sitting in the corner stood up and walked up to the military woman, shaking slightly. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said in a raspy voice, taking Spitfire’s hand in his hands and shaking it. “Thank you for serving this country.”

“I.. Um. Uh.” Spitfire flushed in embarrassment. “Th-thank you for your praise.” The man walked back dignifiedly, and Spitfire shifted to Lyra and Bon-Bon’s table quickly. “They don’t pay me enough for this,” she mumbled, the blush on her cheeks slowly receding.

“I always knew Spits was easily embarrassed,” Vinyl confessed to Octavia, checking the setup. “We were two shy girls, always whispering secrets and sharing our dreams.” She placed the microphone next to Octavia’s cello. “All right, Tavi, try it out.”

Just as the woman took the bow and pressed it against the strings, two men came into the club. “Hey, I see everyone’s already there,” Neon greeted the people with a smile. “Thought we’d be early.” Frederic followed his suit, and looked at Vinyl and Octavia warmly, when his gaze fell on Spitfire. For a moment, the man just froze in place, staring at the woman, while Neon walked to the adjacent table.

Spitfire raised her head and caught Frederic’s look. For a moment, she just stared back, gazing into the man’s eyes, her mouth slightly open. Then, she made an attempt to stand up, but Frederic approached her first. “H-hello,” Spitfire greeted him. “N-not sure we met? I’ve met Neon once, but you…”

“I’m a friend of Neon’s,” Frederic said almost breathlessly, gazing at the woman as if she were a living goddess. “And of Octavia’s. And of Vinyl’s. And, I, um, I hope we can be friends too?” he asked hopefully, extending his hand, which, to his dismay, was shaking.

“Oh.” Spitfire grabbed the hand, feeling its warm, mighty sturdiness. “I. I would like that.” She flushed and averted her eyes, while Frederic just stood there, holding the woman’s hand like there was no tomorrow.

And, of course, neither saw that the whole club was looking at them knowingly. Vinyl chuckled and motioned for Octavia to continue. The cellist took a few notes and nodded. “All right!” Vinyl announced proudly. “We’re ready! Let’s just wait for the club to fill in, and we’re good.”

“What do you mean, fill in?” Neon asked from his table, at which Frederic had just sat, all the while keeping his eyes on Spitfire, who pretended to be engaged in conversation with Lyra and Bon-Bon but still cast brief glances at the pianist. “Nobody else booked the tables for today, sis. It’s just us.” Catching Vinyl’s amused glance, he nodded. “Yes, just us. So there’s no need to worry, you can begin whenever you are ready.”

“Are we ready, Tavi?” Vinyl whispered to her girlfriend, feeling the weight of the ring in her inner pocket. God knows I’m ready.

Octavia nodded. “Of course, love. We’re ready. Want me to make the announcement?” she wondered with a tiny smile, already knowing the answer.

“Thank you, but I’d like to take the lead today.” Vinyl cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, we, that is, Octavia and I, we want to present you a concert of popular tunes, ranging from classical to jazz, arranged in a very special manner.”

She looked over all their friends. Lyra. Bon-Bon. Spitfire. Neon. Frederic. All the important people were there, and nothing else mattered.

Vinyl smiled at the audience. “But we would like to begin with the final version of a tune we’ve been preparing…” She nodded to Octavia and pressed the button.

***

“It was fantastic,” Lyra called out lazily, cradling Bon-Bon in her lap on the right side of the sofa. She nuzzled her wife and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t you think it was fantastic, Bonnie?”

Bon-Bon nodded, easing into the embrace. “It was amazing.” She glanced at Octavia cradling Vinyl in a similar manner on the other side of the sofa. “You guys did an amazing performance.”

“It was awesome,” Neon called out from the kitchen, staring through the doorway. “An awesome performance from two awesome musicians.”

“Exquisite,” Frederic said breathlessly, his hand on top of Spitfire’s hand, without looking at the women. “It was exquisite.”

“Are you guys trying to write a thesaurus?” Vinyl asked in jest, lifting her head to kiss Octavia’s chin. “Because it’s totally working.” She sighed, casting a glance at the jacket resting on a chair’s back. Not now.

Spitfire finally gave voice: “I… I need to get back to the barracks where we’re stationed.” With difficulty, her eyes left Frederic’s face and peered into the two musicians on the sofa. “Thank you for having me at the performance.” She stood up uneasily.

“I’ll see you there!” Frederic immediately stood up as well, blushing slightly as he said, “It’s dark and, um, I thought I’d accompany you to the barracks.” Then he realised how stupid it sounded, a pianist accompanying a military woman with years of experience.

However, to his immense delight, Spitfire readily agreed: “Of course. I… I’d love that.” Frederic took her hand and pressed it against his lips. Spitfire paled, almost fainting.

The pair quickly said their goodbyes and began dressing up. Neon stood up as well, with a deep sigh. “I’ll be going too.” He waved his hand. “Don’t worry you two, I’m not going with you two lovebirds.”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Neon!” Frederic said a touch defensively, but Spitfire took his hand on her own volition, and that was all that mattered to the pianist at the moment.

“I left my pills at home,” Neon explained as he put on his velvet jacket. “Time to cure the crazy away.” He kissed his sister, waved to Octavia, Lyra and Bon-Bon, and followed Frederic and Spitfire out of the flat.

Octavia sighed, running her fingers along Vinyl’s sides. “Am I a bad host for not seeing them out?” Vinyl shrugged, burying her face into Octavia’s breasts. “I’m too lazy to even close the door after them.”

“Don’t worry about closing the door,” Lyra said, getting up with her wife. “Bonnie and I have to get up early for our train tomorrow.” Seeing oblivion on the musicians’ faces, she explained: “We’re going to see her family. So we’d better leave… well, about now.” She laughed and wrapped a scarf around Bon-Bon, who smiled and waved at the hosts. “It was an amazing performance,” Lyra said for the two. “Take care, you two.”

“Thank you,” Octavia nodded, kissing the top of Vinyl’s head. She wrapped her girlfriend in a tight, warm embrace and nibbled on her ear. “Now we’re all aloooone~” she cooed as soon as the door closed behind the two married women.

“Yes,” Vinyl said, suddenly very serious, and shrugged Octavia off, much to the cellist’s surprised. The spinner marched towards the chair and took out the little box, clutching it in her hand. “Tavi, I’ve been waiting for this moment. I have to say something to you. Something very important.”

Octavia felt her breath get stuck in her throat and nodded, sitting up on the sofa, a realisation slowly entering her brain. Is she trying to… She is trying to-! Octavia almost gasped, but she managed to calm herself enough to make it into an open smile.

“I’ve been wanting to say this for a while already, and, um, I could say it in the club, but there were people…” Vinyl rubbed her nose nervously. “What I mean is, this is a special moment for me, and I think for you…” She groaned, blaming her tongue for disobedience. “I mean, I thought it would be good if it was just the two of us.” She smiled and knelt down on one knee.

Octavia gasped, closing her mouth, as Vinyl opened the box and revealed a simple, yet beautiful diamond ring.

“Octavia Philarmonica. I love you, more than anyone in this world. I love you like I only loved my brother before, but, with you, it is not the warm love of a relative. It is the pure, unadulterated love of passion and desire. I love you, and I want you to be mine forever.” Vinyl felt herself tearing up a little. “In return, I wish for nothing more than to be yours, forever. Octavia Philarmonica,” Vinyl said, smiling through tears, “Will you marry me?”

Vinyl’s stance could never last, for Octavia threw herself at her spinner, pinning her to the floor. The cellist showered her woman with kisses, she cried, and laughed, and showered her with kisses again and again, shouting “Yes! Yes! Yes!” all the while.

As soon as Octavia had ceased her kissing routine, Vinyl took the ring and put it on Octavia’s ring finger. The cellist took a glance at the ring and burst into tears, hugging her woman, kissing her, kissing her, kissing her.

Vinyl smiled, tears of her own in her eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

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