Free EntangledTrio by Cat Grant

unflappable customer. Well, if he could ignore the elephant in the room, David would simply have to do the same. He and Colette took their seats next to Nicole while Petrovsky gave some direction to the orchestra, then turned to face the singers. “Let’s begin with Don José’s Act Two aria. Mr. Lewis, I trust you’re prepared?”
    Nothing like hitting the ground running. David knew he should’ve taken a few minutes to warm up at the piano in his dressing room before heading down here, but seeing Colette had sent all rational thought flying from his brain. Good thing he’d had plenty of time to restudy the score on his flight over. “Anytime you’re ready, maestro.”
    The first few bars were rough. Every note exposed an uncomfortable tightness in his tone. David gripped the podium with both hands, petrified that his wobbly knees would betray him, until an encouraging glance from Colette gave him permission to relax. Don José’s Flower Song was David’s favorite piece in the entire opera, and not just because he could count on a standing ovation at the end of it. One of the most heartfelt, sensual declarations of love ever set to music, it never failed to make his voice open up and soar.
    Without thinking, he turned to Colette and sang it directly to her, like he would during an actual performance. Was it his imagination, or did she sit up the tiniest bit straighter, the roses in her cheeks deepening? By now the music had him firmly in its clutches, an endless river of sound pouring out of him, sweeping him along to the climactic final B-flat. It floated in the air like soft rain and dissolved just as quickly.
    Silence followed the orchestra’s concluding notes, then came a swell of applause. Even Petrovsky looked impressed. He waited for the room to fall quiet again before asking, “Why did you sing the B-flat pianissimo ?”
    “That’s how it’s marked in the score, maestro.” However, it didn’t stop most tenors from hitting the note full-force, then standing back to collect their bravos. David had never particularly cared for that approach. It was a cheap, showy ploy to get applause. Still, it was how most audiences were used to hearing the aria performed. If Petrovsky insisted on him doing it that way, he supposed he’d have to.
    But the maestro didn’t respond further, other than to shoot Colette a pointed look. When they exchanged smiles and nods, David had the sudden awkward feeling he’d just passed some kind of secret test.
    His embarrassed flush slowly migrated into his cheeks. He hastily undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt and gulped down some water, hoping no one else had noticed.
    He got a small respite from the tension by throwing himself into the Act One duet with Nicole. She had a sweet, silvery voice that melded well with his, and by now he’d warmed up enough to do an adequate job. When they finished, the conductor set down his baton. “That will be fine, everyone. Thank you for coming in on such short notice. You’re all free to go.”
    David’s jaw nearly hit his chest. What the hell was Petrovsky doing, dismissing the orchestra when they still had pages of music to cover? When this was the only orchestra rehearsal they’d scheduled for him? Alarmed, David marched to the front of the room and waited behind the concertmaster and leader of the woodwind section for his turn to speak to the maestro.
    “Yes, Mr. Lewis?” Petrovsky’s tone was brusque to the point of rudeness. In fact, he’d already thrown his score in his bag and started for the door. David had to sprint to keep up with him.
    “Why did we skip the final scene? I thought we had at least another hour of orchestra time—”
    “Which is quite expensive, especially when unnecessary. You obviously have a fine grasp of the role and a good working rapport with Colette. Your time will be better spent with Sophia, learning the staging. I’ll see you at dress rehearsal tomorrow night.” He strode on ahead,