RUSH (City Lights, #3)(31)

My shoulders hunched. “He’s not all bad,” I said, straining to sound casual as I sifted through a morass of faded concert tees. “I mean, he is rude, but he’s not an *. He’s just…trying to recover from his accident.”

Melanie narrowed her eyes at me through her cat glasses. “Speaking of recovering, you look good. Rested. Assholes aside, seems like the job is good for you.”

“I guess so,” I said, cautiously, running a hand through my loose hair.

“Uh huh.” Melanie smirked. “You know, it’s okay to tell me you’re doing better. As your friend, that’s actually the kind of stuff I want to hear.”

“I’m afraid if I tell you I’m doing better, you’ll start hounding me about auditioning.”

Melanie’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Now that you mention it, the Philharmonic just posted a call for section violinists. What a coincidence!”

I looked away. First Juilliard, then the Phil!

Her smile fell. “Just…nothing?”

“Mel, I just got settled into my new place. Give me some time—”

“How much time?” Before I could answer, she tossed her selections over a rack and took me by the shoulders. “Give me a deadline. Give me one clue that tells me you’re serious about your career, because honestly, I can’t tell. I hear you say you’re not done yet, but I’m really f*cking worried that you’re lying. And you, my friend, cannot be done.”

I shrugged out of her embrace. “I’m not done,” I said, thinking of how the Mozart adagio had poured out of me in front of Noah. “But even if I were, it’s not the end of the world. There are a million other careers I can have.”

“Other careers…?” She pushed her glasses up her nose—the Melanie Parker equivalent of rolling up your sleeves in preparation for a fight. “Okay, the time has come. It’s clear I’m going to have to get all Good Will Hunting on your ass.”

“You have to what?”

“Remember that movie, when Will says it’s perfectly okay for him to squander his genius brain-power and be a brick-layer, or a construction worker, or whatever? And his friend, Ben Affleck, tells him that’s bullshit? Do you remember?”

I shrugged helplessly. “I guess…?”

“So that’s you and me. I’m whoever the hell Ben Affleck was, and I’m telling you that you have a gift and you’re wasting it. A gift that any of us from the crew—Regina, Mike, Felicia…hell, half the student body at Juilliard for crying out loud—would kill to have. And you’re Will, and you’re telling me that, no, no, it’s totally cool for you to quit and become…what? A personal assistant?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Melanie sputtered. “That’s exactly what Will said! And me and Ben Affleck are here to tell you that’s crap. It’s insulting to the rest of us who would give our left tit for a fraction of the talent you’re just throwing away.”

“Don’t do that,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s ludicrous. And unhealthy.”

“Just the facts, ma’am. You’re crazy-talented. You’re Mozart-level talented, and it just f*cking kills me to see you neglect that. Because it can’t be good for your soul to let something that amazing wither and die. It can’t be.”

“You’re over-stating it, to put it mildly. Mozart was a legend. To even compare me to him is…well, it’s almost blasphemous.”

“I’m not that far off the mark and you know it. Mozart wrote his first concerto at age four. You played one of his concertos at the age of six. You played Sibelius’s No. 47 at age fourteen. Sibelius. You think that happens everyday? That kind of talent…it’s a miracle.”

“A miracle? Do you even feel the weight of what you’re throwing on me?” I hefted my armful of clothing. “I’m doing my best, Mel. That’s all anyone can do, right?”

Melanie dropped her hands to her side. “Charlotte, you’ve been through some serious shit. With Chris and then Keith, King of the Douchebags. You got knocked on your ass, and then that prick kicked you when you were down. So you took some time off and if you need to take more, you should. But if you’re considering giving it up, I think that would be a tragedy.”

“Do you know how hard it is to practice every day and feel nothing? And I do, Mel. I practice every day now at the townhouse, and every day I feel nothing. I’m just making noise.”

“You have to go there. You have to dig in. If it’s not rising up like it used to then you have to go prospecting for it.”

“I’m trying, Mel. I really am.”

“So audition for the Philharmonic. You have plenty of time to prepare. Get your Mendelssohn in shape, and then get over there and kill it.”

“Melanie, I just signed a year lease to work as Noah’s assistant.”

“Leases can be broken.” Melanie quirked an eyebrow. “Are you trying or are you not?”

I sighed. “I’ll think about. But don’t be surprised if I crash and burn, because I sure as hell won’t be.”

“Ah, there’s that optimism!” Melanie hugged me. “I’m proud of you. And you’ll thank me someday. When you’re rich and famous and stealing all of Hilary Hahn’s gigs.”