I tell Elle about the message. “Is this normal for faculty to take students off campus for weird evening sessions?” sheasks.
“I’m not sure Finn follows the rules.” But I’mintrigued.
“We’re all still going out tomorrow night, right?” Elle asks as I start toward thehall.
“Yeah. My friend Pen and the guy she’s seeing suggested a place theylike.”
I go down to the first floor and turn toward the main lobby. A black car’s pulled up at the curb, and the window buzzes down, revealing Finn inside the backseat. I shift into the car, pull the door behindme.
“Some people think being double-booked is a conflict,” he says once I’m in. “I think it’s an opportunity. I’m playing a show tonight. Figured you could keep mecompany.”
I glance out the window as the city passes us by. “I haven’t been to a show in…months.”
“Then you’re in for atreat.”
Two hours later, we’re at a venue in Jersey. The audience is a few thousand people—loud, screaming. They’re not here for me, but from the moment I take up a post in the shadows backstage, I close my eyes and pretend theyare.
This is what it feels like to make a name foryourself.
Finn runs off partway through, sweating, and checks the set list while he gets touch-ups. “I know what you’rethinking.”
“What’sthat?”
“That the purpose of your intensive at Vanier is to hone your craft, notmine.”
“Well, yeah, but this is fun,” Iadmit.
With a grin, he points at the next track on the set list. “You know thistrack?”
Inod.
“Drop in on it.” There’s a cocky angle to his grin, and I blink at him inastonishment.
“I’m not warmed up, I’m in the wrong clothes, and I don’t have performancemakeup.”
But he jerks his head as he jogs back on stage, and I slowly follow him. His bassist steps back, gesturing to the mic. So, I takeit.
I’ve been on stage a dozen times in the last few years, but none of the small productions I’ve done have felt like this. This is freedom—an orgy of lights and sound and love andfeeling.
It’s not my song, but the audience sings along, pulsing right there withme.
Backstage after, Finn downs a bottle ofwater.
“That was incredible,” Igush.
“This is the contemporary music program. Not ‘break your back bending over your violin for twenty years until someone lets you play second in a symphony.’ You saw that crowd. You think they’d pay two hundred bucks a seat to seeMozart?”
“Mozart’sdead.”
“Exactly.” Hegrins.
“Listen,” I start. “I want to run my audition piece for the showcase by you once more. I’ve been making some changes, and I’d love your input. Would you have timetomorrow?”
Finn cocks his head. “You didn’thear.”
“Hear what?” My heart kicks in mychest.
“First years are being disqualified from auditioning this year. ” He reaches for his phone, swipes through a few screens. “Looks like it was just in a faculty email that went around today. The first years who signed up will be contactedtomorrow.”