The Tchaikovsky Affair (4 page)

Despite the fact that they still had not relieved the sexual tension Gallo had so accurately and tactlessly pointed out, their duet rehearsals were progressing much mor
e steadily. Not that they weren’t still distracted by each other. Knowing that there was a mutual attraction, however, made it much easier to focus on the task at hand.

That Friday,
Jackie and Shannon found themselves once again in that same windowless, claustrophobic room with Mulroney sitting quietly in the corner and Gallo waving his arms frenetically, trying in vain to get his desired result.

“There’s just no magic,” Gallo sighed, finally brining his arms to a resting place by his hips.

Jackie smirked to herself, staring at Shannon.
From where I’m sitting, it looks pretty damn magical.

“Technically the solo works,” Gallo continued, “but you’re still not working as a cohesive unit. I’m grateful that you’re no longer missing cues, but there’s no spark. For this to work, you two need to be able to read each other and play into each other’s emotions. It should tell a story.”

Neither Shannon nor Jackie was sure if they should add their opinions, so they stayed silent, knowing Gallo always had more to say.

“You two are too wrapped up in your own sections of the duet. This is not
Jackie and Shannon playing their instruments with technical perfection. You are here to serve the music.”

Shannon
nodded in understanding, but was frustrated. She wasn’t sure how to achieve what he was asking, and Lord knows she had already been putting in a hell of a lot of work.

“What do you propose we do?”
Shannon asked, no malice in her voice, just curiosity.

“
Shannon, you play your part close to perfectly when it comes to notes and tempo.” Shannon grinned – as confident as she was in her abilities, validation never hurt. “But I can tell that because you’ve practiced so hard that you’re letting your muscles take over. There’s no passion, no soul when you play. Jackie, you, on the other hand, have an abundance of passion.”

“No kidding,”
Shannon muttered under her breath. The other two looked at her, bemused. Gallo continued anyway, “Everyone can tell that you’re feeling the music, but you’re missing the precision. Shannon is talented enough and very quick on her feet. She can follow you, but the rest of the orchestra may have trouble dealing with your irregularities.

“You each have what the other needs. I want you two to help each other reach true perfection. Only then will you be in tune with each other. Only then will we achieve magic.”

“Does either of you know the story behind this work?” Michael piped up from his corner, where he had been overseeing their process.

The women shook their heads.

“I was inspired to arrange this solo as a duet having heard the story of how Tchaikovsky came to write it. As I’m sure you both know, Tchaikovsky wasn’t a violinist, yet in this piece, he managed to write one of the best violin solos ever known. Obviously, he must have had help.”

“Oh, perfect! This is a great story! I can’t believe I’d forgotten it!” Gallo exclaimed, while gleefully clapping his hands.

Ever patient, Michael continued with the story, “After divorcing his wife of only three weeks, Tchaikovsky took his composition pupil Iosif Kotek to Switzerland to recover from a bout of severe depression. There the two played violin and piano duets constantly. It was these duets and Kotek’s companionship that inspired his Violin Concerto in D. As Kotek was the superior violinist, Tchaikovsky sought out Kotek’s advice on the solo, and together, they completed the work. Tchaikovsky respected Kotek’s work greatly and is known to have written to his brother, saying that he couldn’t have done it without Kotek. When it came time to debut his work, Tchaikovsky wanted nothing more than to dedicate the concerto to his young pupil, but didn’t out of fear of revealing the true nature of their relationship.”

At this point in the story, Michael had the three others in the room looking on in rapt attention, waiting to hear how
Kotek and Tchaikovsky’s relationship would play out in the music.

“You see, the two were lovers, but Tchaikovsky always took great measures to hide his homosexuality from the public. Hence his three-week marriage to a woman he had no interest in. The rest of the story is not as well known as that part. What we do know is that Kotek refused to play the solo at the debut. Some say it was simply because he believed the concerto would not be well received and did not want to ruin his promising career. Others say that it was because he felt spurned and betrayed by his lover and mentor. Either way, the two never saw each other again, and Tchaikovsky had to find a replacement soloist.”

Silence descended upon the room as the two women processed the story. They stole glances at each other, both comprehending the weight their performance had the potential to carry.

“This is what it’s about,” Gallo broke the silence, a glint in his eye. He simply loved a tragic love story. “Michael has so cleverly adapted this solo into a duet to mirror this story. Without the audience ever having heard this love story, you two need to convey to them the dueling emotions Tchaikovsky must have felt while composing.”

*              *              *

For the purposes of their homework, Jackie and Shannon had set up a dinner date at Jackie’s apartment (“All the way on Long Island!” Shannon had grumbled). Obviously, it was purely about their assignment. Whatever excuse the two used to justify it to themselves, they were both extremely excited to see each other outside of rehearsal for the first time since their date at O’Leary’s.

Shannon
was uncharacteristically nervous as she knocked on the door to Jackie’s apartment. She clutched her violin case in her left hand, her knuckles white and palms sweating. There was something about Jackie that completely unnerved her. It was both thrilling and terrifying.

Jackie
opened the door and flashed her a brilliant, wide smile.

“Come in!”
Jackie said, exuberantly. As Jackie opened the door wider, Shannon stepped through and her eyes widened. She barely noticed Jackie pulling off her coat and taking her violin as she surveyed the gigantic apartment.

“Holy crap! This place is amazing!”
Jackie shrugged as Shannon took in the full apartment. To her left was Jackie’s spacious kitchen, fully decked out with the latest appliances and covered with elegant black granite. In front of her was a large lounge, with mostly white walls and a burgundy accent wall behind an enormous TV and sound system. At the far end of the lounge was a bay window, with plush cushions lining the sill and a table, which Jackie had set and decorated with candles. Behind the black leather sectional was a wrought iron staircase leading to a cozy overhanging balcony, where Jackie had an antique bookcase set up, filled mostly with albums and CDs. Jackie’s cello lay on its side next to a set of opaque double doors that presumably led to Jackie’s bathroom.

“How the hell can you afford this place?”
Shannon asked, knowing that a musician’s salary before they made it big could scarcely pay for a quarter of the space.

Jackie
shrugged uncomfortably. “My dad bought it for me when he heard I’d made it into the Philharmonic. I wanted to look for my own place in Manhattan, but haven’t gotten around to it with our busy schedules.”

Shannon
nodded and smiled. Sensing Jackie’s discomfort, she decided to change the subject. “God, that smells delicious. What are you making?”

“Chicken
marsala,” Jackie replied, leading Shannon to the kitchen. “It’s my specialty.”

Shannon
hummed as she breathed in deeply, taking in the enchanting aroma. “Can I help?”

“Are you good in the kitchen?”

“Well, no, but I’m an excellent taste-tester!” Shannon grinned and nodded, pleased with herself.

Jackie
laughed a breathy laugh, more focused on Shannon’s dimples and glistening blue eyes than anything else. The two gazed at each other, neither knowing what to say, but enjoying being able to simply stop and appreciate each other’s beauty for the first time in a week. At some point, though, the staring became awkward and Jackie knew she needed to occupy herself with something else or she would get lost in Shannon completely.

“Wine!” she exclaimed suddenly. “I have a Chardonnay and a Merlot, because I wasn’t sure what you preferred. I pegged you for a Chardonnay kind of girl, though.”

Shannon laughed at Jackie’s flustered behavior. “You guessed right.”

Jackie
poured Shannon a healthy serving of the white and with her free hand reached behind the blonde to grab a coaster. The proximity of Jackie’s body made Shannon’s head swirl. Looking up she watched Jackie lick her plush lips. Before either of them knew what they were doing, Shannon pulled Jackie into her by the lapel of her leather jacket and pressed her lips firmly against Jackie’s. Almost instantly, Jackie slid her tongue along Shannon’s bottom lip, requesting entrance. The blonde parted her lips and Jackie’s tongue slipped past the barrier with a ferocity that surprised both of them. Their tongues dueled, explored, sucked for several delightful moments, before Jackie pulled back at the sound of the oven timer.

“Dinner’s ready,” she whispered breathlessly. They wordlessly grabbed plates and doled out their food, before sitting opposite from each other in the bay window, their knees barely touching under the table.

“Mmm, Jacinta, this is absolutely delicious,” Shannon intoned, after taking her first bite.

“I’m a woman of many talents,”
Jackie flirted.

As they ate, conversation flowed easily. They told each other a bit about their families.
Shannon explained her Army brat upbringing, and Jackie described life in Miami. They bantered about their favorite composers, and delighted in each other’s embarrassing moments on stage. Shannon disclosed all of the gossip at the Philharmonic, who had slept with whom, who was most prone to having a temper tantrum and walking out of rehearsal.

Nearly two hours had passed without either of them realizing.
Shannon sighed into her wine glass, “I guess we should get to practicing, huh?”

“I know something more interesting we could be doing,”
Jackie said in a low voice, as she began to circle her finger around Shannon’s knee.

Shannon
shivered, but tried to keep her ground. “We need to work on this duet, Jacinta.”

“Fine,”
Jackie replied, affecting her voice with an ambivalent air. Shannon instantly wished she hadn’t said anything, when Jackie removed her hand and left the table with her plate to clear up. Reeling from the loss of Jackie’s simple touch, Shannon scrambled up from the table to follow Jackie. When Shannon entered the kitchen, she gasped at the sight of Jackie leaning over to fill the dishwasher. She placed her plate on the counter, before touching Jackie’s hip gently. As Jackie stood and turned, Shannon skimmed her hand around Jackie’s body and slid her body into the taller woman’s. Jackie grabbed the blonde’s shoulders firmly and pushed her back against the island in the middle of the kitchen. Covering Shannon’s body with her own, Jackie began to assault Shannon’s lips, probing, and sucking, and nipping at the blonde’s bottom lip. Shannon snaked her hand around Jackie’s neck, bringing their bodies even closer, as she slipped her thigh in between Jackie’s strong legs.

When
Jackie felt Shannon’s deft fingers slip under the hem of her shirt, she moaned, and asked apprehensively, “Bedroom?”

Shannon
nodded numbly, all thoughts of practicing far from her mind. The two stumbled through to the lounge and eventually through the doors leading to Jackie’s bedroom, shedding their offensive clothes along the way. When they reached the bed, both clad only in underwear, Jackie pushed Shannon gently back and crawled over her. They continued to battle for dominance, trying to touch as much of each other’s precious exposed skin as possible, eventually ridding each other of all of their clothes.

Jackie
hovered over Shannon and rolled her hips into the smaller woman’s, applying pressure where they both desperately needed it. It was at that inopportune moment that Shannon’s rational half of her brain decided to reenter her body.

“I can’t,” she breathed into
Jackie’s lips. “I’m sorry…I just…can’t.” Jackie cocked her head in inquisition, wondering what had caused the sudden change in the blonde’s demeanor. “It’s too much, too soon,” Shannon tried to offer as an explanation. The terror had overwhelmed the thrill of this experience.

Jackie
rolled off of her, but kept their legs intertwined. She said nothing, but lightly stroked Shannon’s golden locks, hoping she would offer an explanation.

“I’m sorry,
Jacinta,” Shannon whispered again. She bit her lip and Jackie could see that she was thinking hard about her next move. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” she continued. “But I just can’t let myself do this again.”

“Again?”
Jackie pressed gently.

Shannon
sighed and began her story, “When I was a sophomore at Juilliard, I fell so hard for this girl, Stella. She was a violist, I should have known better,” she smiled wryly. “I couldn’t get enough of her and after only three months I thought I was in love. I had this whole elaborate way of telling her. Of course the day before I was going to implement my plan, I walked in on her engaging in some heavy making out with one of our professors.”