Page 2 of The Baritone's Rival

“Julie!”

“What? What’s better than getting high and watching witches fly?”

“Trent.” Shit. Anthony was about to give a lecture. That wasn’t good.

“You’re a good student,” Anthony continued, resting his hands on his hips. “And you’re an excellent singer. You wouldn’t be at the Brooklyn Institute of Music if that weren’t true. But I see how hard you push yourself. If you don’t find a way to loosen up, your journey will be so much harder than it needs to be.”

Trent shook his head and gripped the black metal music stand in front of him. He’d heard this before, from his teachers, from his parents. What good had that donethem?

“It took a lot to get me here,” Trent rebutted. “I can’t waste my chance.”

Anthony tapped at Trent’s musical score with his pencil eraser. “Go out for a drink. Go to the movies. This will still be here when you get back.”

Trent sighed. Anthony didn’t understand. No one did. Most of the students in his master’s program had rich families. They’d been in voice lessons since they were kids. They couldn’t relate to a poor kid who’d muscled his way into one of the country’s best vocal performance programs.

Trent’s throat tightened again, this time with unshed tears. There wasn’t a backup plan. Singing was what he knew how to do. With his mother gone?—

Nope. Not going to let that old monster back in. He pushed aside memories of warm gardenia-perfumed hugs and forced himself to return to the present.

“This is all I have.” Trent fought through the flash of grief. “If I don’t succeed...”

Anthony put his elbow on the smooth, shiny piano top and rested the side of his head against his hand. “You’ve already succeeded, Trent. You’re here.”

Trent’s jaw clenched. “I have to do better. The auditions for the Manhattan Lyric Young Artists Program are in a month. They’re only taking one guy, and we both know that means they probably want a tenor. If I’m going to get in as a baritone, my audition has to be perfect.”

“There are other programs.”

“It’s the best one.” Trent’s hands formed into fists as he spoke. “The best chance to have the career I want. To be singing lead roles for major houses in the next ten years.”

Anthony crossed his arms. “You can’t?—”

“I have to.” Trent was speaking louder now, but he couldn’t help himself. “Maybe you’ve forgotten how much this business sucks, but most of us don’t get lucky and blow up in theirtwenties like you did. But the one thing that I can do, the one thing that I’m good at, is outworking everyone else!”

No one spoke for a long moment. Anthony stared at Trent as if he were evaluating him. Julie sat at the piano with her head down, picking at her fingernails.

“You are good at many things,” Anthony said, breaking the silence with his quiet words. “And your fellow students are your colleagues, not your competition.” He sighed. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t. No one should be.” Trent glanced up at the clock and gathered up his sheet music. “I’ve gone over time.”

“Just by a couple of minutes.”

Trent stuffed his score into his already overfilled backpack, slipped an arm through, and swung it over his right shoulder. It hit the middle of his back with a painful smack. He ignored it. If he hurried, he could get in two hours of practice before the building closed for the day. He started for the door.

“Trent.” He reluctantly turned back to Anthony. “You have a whole studio of classmates that share your ambitions. They could be a support system.”

“I don’t know?—”

“I bet you and Oscar would get along like gangbusters. Why not talk to him?”

Trent froze. God, that’s what Anthony thought of him? That he should spend his few free hours with Oscar Acosta, the biggest partier in the program? Every day, Oscar walked into class, clearly hungover, and somehow managed to sing. He was a brat, and everything about him was annoying. His long brown hair. His tallness. His pretty eyelashes. The last thing Trent wanted to do was waste time onthatchaos cauldron.

He reminded Trent a little of a vampire he’d known in his teens…nope. Why did the past keep popping into his headtoday? He wasn’t part of that world anymore. Humans only, now.

“I’ll think about it.” He forced a smile and got out as quickly as he could. Julie rolled her eyes once more as he slid out the door.

Trent hurried down the hall, hoping that Anthony wouldn’t follow him to continue the conversation. He was over-involved in his students’ lives. Most voice teachers were, but Trent didn’t need the advice.

He could get a sandwich at the bodega and then grab a rehearsal room. He was sure that with a couple hours of practice, he could move past the block that had been plaguing him.

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