Crimson Death (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #25)(29)

“We are victorious,” I said, switching off the camera with a flourish. “That is a wrap. Well done, Valentina Lisitsa.” Valentina Lisitsa was a piano player Juliette showed me on YouTube a couple weeks earlier, whose fingers moved so fast it looked like her videos were sped up to double time. Juliette had brought the channel up somewhat defiantly, telling me it was proof that someone from North Carolina could become a famous musician. Let the record show that I’d actually never implied otherwise. Something told me a little voice inside Juliette’s head might have once or twice, though.

“Valentina’s a pianist.”

“All right, be pedantic then. Well done, Valentina Lisitsa’s clarinet equivalent. You’re halfway to college!”

Juliette came over to grab the camera. “Not so fast. I’ll have to make sure it’s okay before I send it off. I need it to be perfect.”

“Have a look at it tomorrow. If you don’t like it, shoot me a text and I’ll come for round two. I don’t have plans.”

Juliette climbed onto the bed beside me, standing up on the unmade covers. “You’re the best, Ollie-oop. Thank you, so much.”

I got up and jumped on the spot, grabbing her hands. “You’ve got this. You did awesome.”

She jumped a few times, too, bursting into nervous laughter. “I hope so. God, I hope so.” She let out a small scream, then threw her hands up. “Now let’s get you to sound check, Bon Jovi.”

“Bon Jovi, really?”

“Closer comparison than Valentina. Come on, Ollie-oop, go, go, go. The night’s all about you, starting from … right … now.”

I took a dramatic leap from her bed and bowed to her as I landed. “I’m happy to share the spotlight. But only with you.”

Juliette applauded me, then grabbed my arm to swing it back and forth. “Will’s coming tonight. Are you nervous?”

“About Will coming?” I asked. “No.”

Yes.

“He’s been talking about you at lunch a lot.”

I blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. Just casual stuff. Like, ‘Oh, Ollie thinks this,’ or, ‘Ollie told me a story about that once.’ Well, he was, anyway. Then Matt asked when the wedding date is. He hasn’t really brought you up since, now that I think about it.”

The unhappy pang that accompanied the gay joke was, for once, outshined by a warmer feeling. Will was talking about me. When I wasn’t even there.

We’d been sitting next to each other in Music Appreciation since his message two weeks before. Five lessons in total. It was easy to get along with him in class, but a part of me figured that was because his friends weren’t around. I’d been low-key terrified all day that he might give me the cold shoulder tonight. Even with Aunt Linda’s pep talk, there was no way I could overlook it if he completely ignored me. But if he was acknowledging me in front of the basketball guys, that was different.

Maybe we’d be able to manage being friends after all.



So, a “few” people turned out to be closer to a hundred or so. Apparently it’d spread around the grade that the Lost and Found was the place to be that Friday night. I had more than a slight inkling it was down to the basketball guys. I wondered what it’d be like to have that kind of power? To be able to decide what people you barely knew did with their lives, just by doing it yourself?

Sayid and Emerson were a tiny bit nervous when they saw the crowd. And by that I mean Sayid had made a genuine attempt at backing out due to homework commitments he’d forgotten about until that very second, and Emerson was shaking so hard he spilled half his water bottle down his front when taking a drink. Izzy was loving every second of it, though. She spent the half hour before the set running back and forth to report back on how much the audience had grown, her eyes alight. She had good reason to be excited. Being able to draw a crowd would do wonders for the band’s rep. We were unlikely to struggle finding a host for the next gig now. The Lost and Found would probably make more on soda and bar snacks tonight than they’d bring in the rest of the week combined.

Before I knew it, it was time to begin our set. Thankfully, Emerson and Sayid got over their nerves once we were onstage. Actually, that’s not even giving Sayid enough credit. For all his freaking out, he belonged on the stage in a way I never saw in practice. He moved around seamlessly between the keyboard and the center mic, jumping about the place, joining me and Emerson, and engaging the crowd. I was pretty sure the music was the opposite of what 99 percent of the crowd would choose to listen to, but it was hard not to be entertained by Sayid.

As for me, I didn’t mess up. Much. Maybe a note or two, but nothing noticeable. At any rate, I threw zero people off, so I considered it a resounding success. Thankfully, Mom and Dad raised me to aim low, to encourage a healthy contentment in hitting par.

Then, suddenly, it was over. A few minutes of packing up our instruments, and we were walking out to join the growing crowd while a DJ set himself up.

Juliette flung her arms around me as soon as I came out. “Ollie-oop, that was so good. Holy shit! You’re like a freaking rock star, you know that, right?”

“That was really great, Ollie,” Niamh chimed in, touching my upper arm. Her voice was softer than usual, and her eyes seemed heavy and tired. The problem with going out on a school night, I guessed.