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“Hey,” Fynn says, forcing my eyes to his again. “I am not your competition. This isn’t a competition. It isn’t a game. And tonight is way too important to the man we both clearly adore. Don’t you dare show up there in anything other than a joyous, supportive mood. Got it?”
I exhale and look at him. Taking a few more deep breaths, I nod.
“You, TJ, he wants you…. show him you are worth the risk. Show him you want him as much as I think you do. Show him that.”
He takes my hands much the way I did Nandy’s earlier and gives my arms a rough shake. Why does that always work?
“What is your real name?” He’s staring at my face as if he can figure it out just from a close examination of my features.
“Trevor…Trevor Jason…family names.”
He nods and smiles. Clearly expecting the usual Thomas John.
“Well, Trevor Jason,” his grip on my hands tightens. “Don’t you dare make tonight about you. This discussion you need to have with Nandy…that happens another night…got it? This one is all his.”
I nod and return the squeeze to his hands.
“Now, I have to go downstairs and figure out what I am going to wear and fix my face.”
I shake my head at him and smile. Then nod. “Okay.” I pause and he gives my arms one more shake. “Thank you for your honesty.”
“Oh, you’ll get nothing but that from me. Careful what you wish for, Trevor.”
He sashays toward the door, swinging his hips.
“Fynn,” I call out. He stops and turns before he ducks out of view. “Your face is perfect.”
Chapter nineteen
I’m sitting on the edge of the stage, my legs dangling and swinging as the students I’ve selected to play with me tonight finish prepping behind me. We’ve done all the sound checks and then some. They are nervous and giddy and excited and so am I.
As concert goers file into the auditorium, some don’t give a second glance at me sitting on the stage available to anyone who wants to come say hello.
They probably don’t realize it’s me. After all, I am in an understated, if still very expensive, suit. My dreads are back in a ponytail. And I probably look more relaxed than I feel. It’s not nerves necessarily. The same giddy excitement as the kids behind me, for sure. This is for them. Students didn’t have to pay a dime to be here. Others only paid what they could afford. I’ve heard people paid as little as $1 and as much as $1,000 for this.
I prepare to stand when I young black girl comes rushing to the stage. “Oh my God,” she shrieks. “It is you…my mom said no way you would just be sitting here. Oh my God, Oh my God I love you so much!! I just started playing cello and….” she finally stops to breathe.
“How old are you?”
She swallows and pauses for a moment, as if she may have forgotten. “Fourteen, so yeah, probably a little late to start and I’m not good, like at all…”
“Never, ever too late.” I say. “I was fourteen too.”
She beams.
“Do you like it?”
“I do,” she says.
“Then go with that. Nothing else matters. What’s your name?”
“Keisha.”
“Well, Keisha, very nice to meet you and I hope you enjoy tonight. Is that your mom?”
She nods. Her mom is staring at us wide-eyed. I wave. She gives a timid wave back.
I stand and brush the back of my trousers, freeing them of any dust that may have been lingering on the gleaming floor of the stage.
