And I realize I can’t throw my audition. It would be wrong on so many levels. It would be a betrayal of the highest order.
Plus, Nikolai will kick your ass. My lips twitch at the thought of serious, controlled Nikolai Zhdanov doing any such thing, and I sit down at the piano stool, turning the pages of music until I find my prompt.
I’m about to commence my program, when there’s a small commotion in the hallway. I hear the sound of excited voices, and the handle turns and the door swings opens.
It is Nikolai.
Every single person there is instantly star-struck. The Chair rises to his feet with a wide smile of greeting, and vigorously shakes Nikolai’s hand. Mara’s eyes have gone very round. There’s a palpable sense of excitement in the air, and it strikes me what a celebrity Nikolai is in the tiny world of classical music.
“Would you mind if I sit in?” Nikolai asks. His eyes meet mine briefly.
I roll my eyes at the way the metaphoric red carpet is rolled out for him. They find him a chair. Someone fetches him a cup of coffee. While all of that is happening, Nikolai comes towards me. I can’t take my eyes off him. “What are you doing here?” I ask softly.
He grins. “I came to watch, of course. You didn’t think I would miss your audition?” His eyes narrow, as if he knows I’ve been contemplating failure. His voice is low. No one else can hear him. “Do me proud, Allie.”
I’m so touched that he’s here. Not a morning person, he would have had to wake up at four in the morning to drive to New York. I’m almost overwhelmed by emotion, but I keep it in check, letting it build inside of me. I’m going to need it soon. It’s almost time to play.
This time, I’m entirely immersed. I draw on the emotions and the discipline that Nikolai has helped me find. I am music. I am, every poignant painful note of Chopin’s concerto, every bit of wild dissonance of Ginastera, every calm soothing note of Bach. I put it all out there. Every emotion. Nothing held back. I owe this to the man who watches me carefully as I play to be the very, very best I can be.
There’s silence when I’m done. Throats clear. No one speaks. It is as if I’ve left something in the air that makes speech impossible. Mara, the woman who interceded for me the first time around, openly dabs at her eyes.
I take this all in, but in reality, I only care what one person thinks. I look at Nikolai with a question. Was it enough, my expression asks him.
He holds my gaze for one long instant, each of us trapped in a world that only we share. Finally, he nods. There’s pride and warmth in his eyes. I have done enough.
***
“Thank you,” I tell him, when his groupies have finally let him go. He gives me a slight smile and I wonder - what now? Where do we go from here?
I hand him the ceramic cat he pressed into my hand on the bus. “This is yours,” I mutter.
He shakes his head. “Your mother gave it to me when I auditioned at the Philharmonic,” he says with a smile. “On the start of your own journey, it seems fitting to pass it on to you.”
“It’s hardly the same thing,” I protest. Juilliard has hundreds of students. There’s only one principal pianist at the New York Philharmonic.
“It’s an important first step, Allie,” he replies. His fingers brush my hair back from my face, and tucks a strand behind my ear.
That touch gives me the courage to speak and ask the question I really want to know the answer to. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? “I want to be the principal pianist of the Philharmonic one day.” My voice is bold. “I want your former job.”
His lips twitch. “It’s a hard road.” There’s a gleam in his eyes. He knows where this is going.
“I’ll need plenty of tutoring.” Nikolai will be hard on me if I fail, and nice to me if he approves of the effort. Strangely, I can’t decide which version of him I will prefer. Both rouse lust in my body.
He smiles openly. “You will indeed,” he purrs. “Many long hours of strict discipline, I think.”
Heat pools in my sex as I contemplate his discipline. So much pleasure. “Will you coach me, Nikolai?”
He holds his hand out towards me, and I entwine my fingers in his. “I think we might be able to work something out,” he says smoothly. “Shall we continue this negotiation in a more private place?”
Though I’m dancing about with glee on the inside, only a little bit of it breaks through. My voice is a whisper of wonderfully compliant sound. “Yes Nikolai.”