Page 5 of Semblance

“You’re supposed to appreciate the wine, not inhale it like tequila shots,” she said.

“Sorry,” I muttered. I felt her judging me, which was item number two on the list of things that vexed me.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Maybe all the wine snobs are fools and don’t even know it. Who has the right to determine how one enjoys alcoholic beverages anyways? To tell you the truth, I never had the palate for wines either. All vintages taste the same to me.” Calisto stared at her glass, shrugged her shoulders and said, “Fuck it, why not?” She downed the rest of her wine in a single gulp.

“Fuck traditions,” she laughed, slamming the glass down on the table when she finished. “Someone always ends up breaking it anyways.”

I liked her already.

“You probably have a lot of questions for me,” Calisto said, pouring another glass.

“I sure do,” I replied.

“You probably want to know how I heard of you and your brilliant piano skills.”

“Yes.”

“And why I suggested for you to play at the China White tonight.”

“Yup.”

“And maybe who I am, besides this lonely girl sitting at this table downing a whole bottle of wine by herself.”

“Of course.”

“Well too bad,” Calisto laughed. “None of that matters. What does matter is if you want to make some more money.”

“Like another gig here?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” Calisto said. She glanced around the room, making sure no one else was listening in on our conversation. “What if I told you that I’m looking for a pianist for just one night at a very exclusive party?”

“Sounds pretty intriguing,” I replied.

“When I say exclusive, I mean that no one else can know about it. I’m talking cloak and dagger secrecy here,” Calisto said. “Can I trust you not to say a word of this to anyone else?”

“Say a word of what?” I played along. “We’re just sitting here enjoying a nice glass of wine from what I can tell.”

Calisto smiled. “I’m part of a very secretive club whose members are very influential and powerful people. Don’t ask me to name any names or go into further details, but I can tell you this: if they like you, they can seriously make your career. You can have your pick headlining Vienna, the Metropolitan Opera, or Carnegie Hall. I’m sure you get the picture.”

She definitely knew how to throw a good sales pitch.

“Go on,” I said. “The wine has made me very impressionable to your sweet talk.”

“In three days, my organization is having a…” Calisto seemingly paused, trying to find the right words for it. “…celebration. It’s possibly one of the biggest events our secret little organization has had in the past decade. I’ve been tasked to take care of all the little details, including entertainment. Aria Valencia, I’d love for you to play at this very important and veryhush, hushevent.

It sounded almost too good to be true. There had to be a catch. Therealwayswas a catch to these things.

“I don’t want to sound like an ungrateful skeptic, but why me?” I asked. “I’m just a nobody who knows how to hammer out a few good pieces on the piano.”

Calisto laughed. “You’re modest to a fault. A few months back I heard you practicing in the university concert hall. You were playing Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody number two, a piece that has great sentimental value to me. You played it with such a passionate fire and beautiful grace that the music resonated from the auditorium and straight into my heart, holding me like a mother holding her newborn.

“My father was a huge Liszt fan and listening to you play the rhapsody took me back in time, when I was still a little girl. I remembered sitting in my father’s lap one night and listening to that beautiful piece, just before his unfortunate death. It was the last moment we shared together as father and daughter. Your music unearthed that precious memory for me, a gift that’s absolutely priceless. I’ve been a huge fan of yours ever since.”

I was taken aback by her story. “You actually liked my version of the Hungarian Rhapsody?” I asked. “I thought I was playing it like shit. Hell, I still don’t have it all figured out. My fingering is still a bit stiff on some parts of the song.”

“It was beautiful Aria; absolutely beautiful,” Calisto replied. “I know this will sound a bit stalker-ish but sometimes I listened to you practicing from outside the hall. I’ve also attended a couple of your recitals that you had for your classmates. Creepy isn’t it?”

I was flabbergasted. I actually had a fan, and she was a woman of impeccable taste.

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