Page 44 of Dream Girl Drama

A laugh shot out of Grace, followed by a long pause wherein, without even turning around, Chloe could feel her new mentor considering her closely. “I’d like to hear Handel. Passacaglia, please.”

There was only one other thing in this world that could make her heart speed at a relatively similar tempo to Sig—and it was the instrument sitting in front of her. The baroque piece rolled out in Chloe’s mind like a red carpet being kicked long, unfurling with a smooth whip, and her fingers lifted on their own, elbows pointing outward and firming. Confidence straightened her spine. This was her world.

Unlike her relationship with Sig, she knew how to navigate these strings, as if she’d been born nestled inside of them. When she’d been lonely as a child or an adult, isolated by the prodigy label, this is where she’d escaped. Into the notes. They were always there for Chloe and they were there for her now, her mental gymnastics stilling while her fingers gently plucked the opening notes, wind filling the sails inside her chest, the full, timeless sound of the antique wrapping her in melancholy and elation, all at once.

She lost time, vanishing into the romantic piece as she tried to communicate her love to the harp, to show it her appreciation for being so beautiful. For letting her play its strings.

When she finished, it took her several moments to open her eyes, her spine slowly losing some of its stiffness, her fingertips still buzzing from the experience.

“Fine, you’re worth my time, Clifford. But if you’re ever late again, I will beat you with my ex-girlfriend’s shoe.”

“Fair enough.”

Grace sighed.

A ribbon of smoke sailed over Chloe’s shoulder and she turned around to find her new mentor hitting a vape. “Save your judgment.”

“You won’t get any judgment from me. I spent seven hundred dollars on eye cream instead of paying my rent this month.”

Grace looked horrified. “Yourent?”

“Well.” Chloe turned partially on the stool. “I live there. Sig rents it for me.”

“What is a Sig?”

Chloe released a gusty sigh. “The most perfect human on earth.”

“Right.” Another hit of the vape. Before Grace could say anything else, a dog started barking somewhere in the back of the cavernous penthouse. “Goddamn it.”

“You have a dog,” Chloe breathed, rising to her feet. “What kind?”

“It’salsomy ex-girlfriend’s. And do I look like a breeder? I have no clue what kind it is. It’s got fur and I have to take it for walks. Like,consistently.” Grace pushed Chloe back down onto the stool. “You can pet the damn thing in a second, but I’m going to read you the riot act first. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not really the inspirational guru type. I’m doing a favor for a friend by giving you some guidance.Theythink you’re worth the effort. With your talent and Connecticut blue blooded-ness, they think you’re BSO material. But if I’m going to putmytime into you, Clifford, I need to know that you want to be the best. Because I won’t accept any less than that.”

No one had ever spoken to her like this. Her first instinct was to apologize to Grace for wasting her time and ask politely to please, please pet the dog, but something stopped her. Maybe it was the need to play the golden instrument from heaven again. Or maybe... maybe it was months of watching Sig play hockey.Watching him sweat and bleed and sacrifice his body for a little black puck. For his teammates. For Boston.

What would it be like to apply herself with that degree of tenacity and succeed?

She’d sort of coasted on her God-given talent her whole life, but she could see, could feel that this dynamic woman would be the one to push her to the next level. If Chloe wanted it. If she worked hard enough.

“What does the best mean? What does it look like?”

“First chair, bitch. Principal harp. What else?”

“You’refirst chair for the Boston Symphony Orchestra.”

“Yeah, but I’m restless. I’m a nomad. I won’t be here forever. For instance, Berlin is calling my name pretty loud right now. I don’t lose easy, especially to a cellist.” Her smirk faded, leaving a serious expression behind. “If you want a shot at the spot, Clifford, you need to be above reproach. I can’t stress that enough. You show up on time, work your ass off. Do not shit where you eat. Do not give the powers that be a reason to doubt your character. Swift said it best, keep your side of the street clean. And when the situation calls for it, you schmooze with donors. The BSO prides themselves on a virtuous image. Is that you?”

“I don’t know aboutvirtuous. I mean, I like to go out...”

“Of course. We all do. You just have to be quiet about it.”

This sounded quite arduous. She could keep things status quo, couldn’t she? Finish conservatory, find a nice position with the orchestra that wasn’t so front and center. No pressure, no one’s reputation riding on her back, continuing to coast on the prodigy status. When she’d decided to come to Boston, first chair hadn’t been her goal, anyway. It was too lofty. Too grueling for someone who could have an easy life, regardless of her job. Or was that her mother speaking?

Was this her sign to find out what she was really capable of?

“Can I have a day to think about it?”

“Actually, I’dratheryou took a day.” Grace stowed her vape. “It proves you’re not going to take what I said lightly. We’d be workinghard.”

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