I reviewed my packing one last time. Instrument cleaned and ready, mouthpiece, valve oil, music -- check. Dinner jacket and dress shirt, bow tie -- check. Shoes polished -- all good. I was looking forward to this gig -- I'd been playing with this local orchestra for a couple of seasons, and this programme was a good one for me -- Wagner's Siegfried Idyll, which has a nice and not too difficult trumpet solo, the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto, with a soloist from the local pro orchestra, and Shostakovitch's mighty Fifth Symphony -- an epic work and lots for the trumpets to do. I left my flat, locked up, loaded up the car and drove to the rehearsal.
The venue was the concert hall at the local university, and the afternoon rehearsal went well; the orchestra felt really fired up and I felt good about the concert. Shame the rest of my life was only just ticking along. I had a decent job, working in the lab for a big civil engineering firm, and although the work was interesting, it didn't really fire me up in the way that music did. I'd been playing trumpet since I was eleven, and played in my county youth orchestra as well as lots of local groups, but I'd opted to take the sensible career path, doing a degree in Chemistry and keeping music as a hobby.
However, increasingly I was wondering if I'd made the right choice. It didn't help that my sex life was non-existent. I'd always found myself shy around women; it was ages since I'd been out with a girl, and I was feeling seriously frustrated in that department. I had thrown myself into my music-making though, and got more satisfaction out of that than from my day job, but somehow that didn't seem to be helping my dating opportunities. Anyway, I told myself, this concert should be enjoyable; just focus on the positives.
After the rehearsal, there was a bit of down time -- I grabbed a sandwich and had a last look over my music for the upcoming pieces. As the time for the concert got closer, I changed into my concert gear -- dinner jacket, white dress shirt and black bow tie, black shoes. Did I look good in a tux? I really didn't know, but I knew I was going to play my best that evening.
The first half went smoothly. I played the solo in the Wagner well, my part rising out of the string texture and driving the piece forward. The concerto also went well, the violin soloist plying brilliantly and the orchestra accompanying strongly.
At the interval, I went backstage and put my trumpet away, then wandered out front. The audience was milling about in the foyer. I was idly looking around for anyone I knew, when a voice behind me said,
"Oh, you're the trumpeter, right?"
I turned round, and saw a cute girl smiling up at me. Short, cropped blonde hair, and laughing eyes that were a dark blue, almost violet.
"I love that Wagner piece," she said. "So romantic, that he wrote it for Cosima and secretly organised an orchestra to play it for her on Christmas morning! You played the trumpet solo wonderfully, by the way."
I was blown away. Girls don't, as a rule, come and start chatting me up, and here was this little hottie giving every indication of being interested in me. She was dressed smartly, in a dark, business-like jacket with a white blouse underneath, a short pencil skirt, and black high heels. Her body was slim, and her long legs were clad in sheer black - tights? Stockings?
"Oh, er, I'm glad you liked it," I stammered. "It's a great piece, isn't it?"
Had she seen me ogling her legs? She was still smiling, so I hadn't blown it yet.
"Did you like the Mendelssohn?" I asked.
"Yeah, it was was good," she smiled. It's a bit overplayed, but still a great piece. Such a great finish, a real race to the end."
My mind was racing. Do I know this girl? Have we met before? This just doesn't happen to me!
"You look kind of familiar - have we met before?" I asked, feeling it was a slightly lame thing to say.
She grinned at me.
"No, I don't think so. But you're doing great, by the way".
She's was definitely coming on to me! I was desperate to be cool, not to screw it up.
"So, um, are you here by yourself?" I asked.
She looked over her shoulder.
"I'm with someone, actually".
Damn. Suddenly, I felt like the rug had been pulled from under my feet.
"Oh, er, that's a shame," I blurted out.
She laughed.
"Why do you say that?"
She was giving me direct, teasing look. Those eyes!
"I just thought that... well...".
"Yes?" She raised one eyebrow.
"Well, you seem really great. I hoped I might be able to see you again."
She put her hand on my arm, and stood on tiptoe to whisper in my ear...
The interval bell rang, shattering the moment. She looked a little flustered.
"You'd better go. Have a good Shostakovitch!"
