Page 1 of Treble

1

VICTOR

Keri’s form is off. The new second chair cellist is a fucking idiot and giving her bullshit advice. It’s clear he’s more worried about flirting than helping her performance, and she’s eating it up. I can’t blame him, she’s fucking beautiful—dark, chocolate-brown hair, bright hazel eyes, and an ass I’d love to sink my teeth into. I can only hope she doesn’t listen to him.

He rests his hand on her lower back under the guise of adjusting her posture, and all I can see is red. I’m playing louder and more aggressively than I should be. It’s only a matter of time before someone notices.

Double bass is my instrument of choice, but I’m tempted to switch to cello to be closer to her. Though my fist would likely meet this guy’s face for touching what’s mine.

Once we’ve run through the same twelve measures three times, I’m finally called out for letting out my frustrations. “Victor, this piece calls for mezzo forte. While I appreciate the enthusiasm, please dial it back.”

My jaw tics but I nod, not wanting to draw more attention to myself. Our concert is coming up in a week and the last thing I need is to be replaced. For years, I’ve worked my ass off to be the best of my section for exactly one reason—Keri. I keep my focus on her as we pick up halfway through the piece. This time I’m on my best behavior, even with the fucker leaning in to flirt with my girl every chance he gets.

As soon as rehearsal is over, I pack up my bass in my soft-shell case and slip the sheet music into the front. When I glance up, Keri is nowhere to be found, and neither is the asshole.

So help me, if she left with him…

I make my way out to my car, relieved to find Keri in the front seat of hers parked next to mine. Alone. After tossing my bass into the back of my SUV, I tap on the glass of her driver’s side window, startling her. She rolls it down and laughs, “Victor, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” I stuff my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. “I was just going to ask if you’d be up for a quick practice tonight.”

“Oh.” She winces. “I’d love to but I have plans tonight.”

I stifle a growl. “With who?”

“Paul,” she replies brightly, but my blood boils at the mention of his name. “We’re supposed to go through my solo since I’m not feeling confident.”

“Your solo is perfect,” I huff, failing to stuff down my anger. When what I really want to say is, “You’re perfect.”

“It’s not but thank you. Are you free tomorrow morning? I’d love to run through an audition piece if you’re up for it.”

My brows pinch. “Audition piece? Where are you auditioning?” I hate that I don’t already know.

“There’s an opening with Baker. I’ve always wanted to do music for movies, so I’m hoping I get it.”

“I’m sure you will, but I can meet you tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” She offers a sweet smile I can’t help returning. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Sounds good.”

I step back, allowing her to pull out of her parking space. After giving her a three minute head start, I follow her home.

2

KERI

Victor should be tailing me any minute now. Part of me wants to throw him off today—maybe stop at a grocery store or take him on a scenic tour of my neighborhood. It’s adorable how the poor guy thinks I don’t know he watches me sleep.

While I’m not the least bit attracted to Paul, when he began flirting, I briefly glanced behind me at Victor to see his reaction and dialed it up a notch. I was pleased to find Victor nearly snapped his bow in half. Suggesting I was seeing Paul tonight was icing on the cake.

I’m feeling feisty today and could use a bit of fun. With no real plans for the night, I stop at the ice cream shop down the street from my apartment for a pint of mint chip. It’s Victor’s favorite flavor, not mine, and he’ll be so excited thinking we have it in common. If only Blockbuster was still in business, I could pick out an action movie to layer my fuckery.

Ice cream in hand, I make my way back to my car and spot him three parking spaces over. It used to be a fun game ofWhere’s Victor, but now he’s just getting sloppy. I toss the pint into thefront seat and drive to the pet store. I don’t own any animals but buy a bag of dry cat food anyway, just to fuck with him. He’ll likely bring up how he adopted a cat last weekend and lean in to being a cat-daddy. Though, if I really want to fuck with Victor, I should let him believe I adopted an iguana.

Have fun with your animal research, Victor!

Next, I stop at the discrete sex shop in the opposite direction of my apartment and purchase a riding crop, four industrial-sized bottles of lube, and edible underwear. I’d buy a collar, but Victor would likely assume it’s for my nonexistent cat.

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