Phoebe's Performance

The After Party

Chapter 38

Half ten and I'm in the foyer, my gaze darts past waiters offering savoury tarts and champagne glasses. I've circled the foyer about ten times, scrutinizing blonde haired men in suits. I can't find him.

It's almost an unwritten rule for artists to attend the after party. By no means is attendance obligatory but each soloist, every orchestral member, is well aware that there wouldn't be a show without the people at the after party. Men in Hugo Boss suits and women in faux furs are the money people, those very same individuals that we artists need to impress because they have deep pockets and essentially keep the orchestral wheels oiled.

Since classical music isn't exactly...fashionable...it's essential to wine and dine all patrons because the orchestra relies on donations. And patrons are talent tarts, who above all else, desire to fraternise with the musicians who have graced the stage.

All musicians who performed tonight, soloist or ensemble, must assist in ensuring these money men are kept happy. There would be an expectation that Otto Arnold shows up. So where the bloody hell is he?

My eyes latch onto the figure of Maestro, a smug smile on his face as he stands in the sea of tuxedos. The show will receive rave reviews. My gaze fixates on him slightly too long because Maestro darts a look in my direction. He smiles, excuses himself and heads toward me. He collects a flute of champagne on the way. "You look worried," he says. "You were exceptional. I've even spoken to a few colleagues about your move to Vienna. I have found you a job as a conductor's assistant for when you get there."

"I need to find Otto."

A crease forms on Maestro's brow and he smiles sadly. "Veronica and Otto are being interviewed by Symphony Magazine."

"Really?" I find it difficult to contain my shock.

"Apparently he's giving them an exclusive interview. There is talk about the pair forming a duo partnership while Otto recovers."

What. The. Fuck?

"Otto and Veronica?" I shake my head vigorously and a pang hits my abdomen. "That can't be true. The only reason she was even on stage was because she lied and hid the gig from me. If Mickey hadn't called you...." My hands clench into tight little fists and then unclench. A sizzle shoots up my body.

"I'll get to the bottom of it." Maestro puts his hand on my forearm. "Apparently Pedro has already called Veronica, enquiring whether the duo will perform in New York."

"Surely he wouldn't do it. His solo career would take a nose dive."

Maestro shrugs and then gestures to the area of the foyer, amongst the pot plants, where both Veronica and Otto stand, talking to someone who must be from the magazine. They're almost hidden by the foliage which is probably the reason why I didn't clamp eyes on him earlier. But there he is, in the flesh, next to Veronica.

I feel myself ogling between the faces of both Otto and Veronica. I can't help but study Otto, the smile plastered on his face. The way he stands, straight and tall is breath taking to watch. Confidence oozes from every pore of his body as he leans forward toward the reporter from Symphony and whispers something in her ear. The reporter from Symphony Magazine blushes, laughs, and then flicks a stray curl from her forehead and tucks it behind her ear. A tiny smile forms on her lips as she notes down something on her little pad.

He's so damn charming and handsome.

"He'll work it out," Maestro says.

"Yes," I agree, something stabs at my chest and I look away. I can't watch the way his perfect lips curl.