Page 30 of Strings
She claps excitedly. “Oh I wish I could be there. You’re going to make all the girls so jealous.”
I sit back down in my chair and slip off my heels for a few minutes. My feet need a break. “All the girls? You make it seem like everyone is chasing him.” I laugh because he’s a cocky violin player. Who wants that?
“Not everyone, but he has a following. I guess he’s too modest to tell you. How much research did you do on him before you started dating?” she questions skeptically.
Huh. Why didn’t I check him out online? God knows I’ve read everything else on the Sym. “Honestly, nothing. We, um, are really fresh like I said before, and I’m not really into research.” Oh, if she only knew.
Amy bends down and pulls her laptop from her bag. She opens it and starts typing Sebastian’s name into the Google bar. When articles and pictures pop up, she turns the computer toward me. “I’m going to give you a few minutes.”
She closes the conference room door behind her and my eyes fixate on the picture on the screen. I can tell it’s him, but damn… he looks like a model holding a violin instead of the mediocre guy I met on the plane. He’s in a tuxedo and he’s not wearing his glasses for once. I read the article attached to the photo.
“Sebastian Mikhail Corronov began playing the violin at the age of two and began selling out concert halls at the ripe age of four. A child prodigy, music is in his literal genes. The only child of world-renowned opera singer Constance Corronov and award-winning composer, cellist, and orchestra conductor Vladimir Ivan Corronov, music is his way of life. Graduating from Juilliard at seventeen, Sebastian Corronov has worked all over the world composing and playing his music.”
He was four when he was playing in concert halls? I’m pretty sure I was sitting in a bar watching my mother play strip poker for money when I was four. Talk about different worlds. I keep reading.
“The violin is a part of him; the bow, an extension of his fingers. With rugged sex appeal, charm, and a photographic memory to boot, Sebastian Corronov not only turns the head of conductors but also of women all over the world. At twenty-five years of age he was listed as one of the wealthiest, most sought- after bachelors in the world.”
I roll my eyes. Did Bella write this article? I snort to myself.
“He plays with such intense passion and depth, it’s no wonder he brings people to tears. The Los Angeles Symphony fought long and hard to draw Corronov to their stage. With offers from around the world, he settled close to his family, who he says are his ‘…strength and salvation.’ As the youngest Principal Concertmaster in history of the Symphony, he consistently draws both young and old while bringing the orchestra to new heights. It’s no wonder he’s been dubbed ‘The Moneymaker.’ Having been there for four years, his contract is up for renewal in the fall. Will he stay? That is the question the Sym most definitely hopes to answer with a yes.”
Okay, so he’s supposedly talented. It’s one article. It’s not like he’s… I scroll down and find picture after picture, plus multiple feature articles and awards. Huh. And quite a few gorgeous women on his arm. Who knew?
Amy pokes her head in the door. “Did you learn anything?” she asks.
“Yeah. I learned why he’s got such a big ego. People have been telling him he’s great his whole life.”
“Okay, so now you know about him. Does that change anything about how you feel when you listen to him play?”
I shrug. “I won’t know until I hear him.”
“He hasn’t played for you?”
“Nope.”
“I can’t believe that. I figured he lured you in with his music. We need to fix that. Come with me. I want to show you something!”
I follow Amy out the doors, around the corner, through another set of doors, and up a flight of stairs. Then we take a short elevator ride and walk down another hall. If there’s a quiz later on how we got here, I’ll fail. If she abandons me here, I’ll probably never be seen again. When we arrive at a locked door, she pulls a set of keys from her pocket and opens it. “Those keys I gave you open all the doors. The Round Theater trusts us, but you need to guard them with your life.”
As soon as we enter, I’m taken aback by the technology throughout the small space. “Welcome to the lighting booth.” Amy waves to a man with a clipboard and he waves back.
“Vincent, this is our new events manager, Natalia Pearson. Talia, this is Vincent Theodore, but we like to call him the Vincent Van Gogh of lighting.”
I shake his hand. “She lies. I’m more like Vincent Price from the old-time horror movies.”
“There’s nothing scary about you, Vincent. We all know you’re a big softy. Have they started?” she asks.
“We’re going into the first violin solo.”
“Perfect timing!” She grabs my hand. “Follow me.” I gasp when I see the hall from the balcony view. I thought it was breathtaking when we were walking through it earlier, but being able to see it from up here, in all its glory, is remarkable.
“I’m sure you’ll get to see him up close tomorrow, but the sound up here is my favorite and it’s all about the sound—the feelings of the music. I like to sneak up here and watch them sometimes after work. They make my knees weak.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone who loves their job quite as much as Amy. Most people can’t wait to go home after a long day, yet she comes to hear them even when she’s not working. That’s dedication.
Sebastian’s voice booms as he points and gives a direction of some sort. I can’t really tell what he’s saying. The conductor speaks next. He’s here visiting from Italy, if I remember correctly. I’d better learn his name before dinner. Dinner… What did I get myself into?
“Here they go.”
