Tying the Knot - Ch. 2 (Sunny Hill Extra Story, Patreon Exclusive)) (Patreon)

Chapter One 

Chapter Two – The Longest Road

Rusty took in the elegant lettering on the frontispiece, mumbling the words to himself, as if he wanted to convince himself that he was in the right place. The Intimate Arias Theater was his destination all right, and the hip neighborhood filled to the brim with small eateries and shops selling handmade items shouldn’t have impressed on him that it was natural to experience any jitters. Nonetheless, despite the warm colors of the façade, he was getting a bit of a case of cold feet. While Matty had offered repeatedly to accompany him, Rusty had proven particularly stubborn to exercise his right to experience his first real failure or success by himself, so that he could go back to his fiancé like a hero having escaped the trenches with plenty of stories to tell. Good and bad alike. He wouldn’t keep anything hidden from Matty, without a doubt.

After much deliberation, he had chosen this small operation for his first foray into the world of the gainfully employed – and in the career of his choosing, nonetheless. The real question now was: would they choose him back? The assistant’s voice over the phone had been warm and welcoming, ensuring him that the lack of both prior professional exposure in the field and ten plus years of formal musical education wouldn’t stand in his way, since the sample he had already sent was convincing enough to secure him an audition.

Still, this was the real thing. Sink or swim. Francine had no idea about it, and Rusty had sworn Jonathan to secrecy, knowing full well that she would want to make it easier for him, open a few doors and shoo him through them. Although she was obviously well intended, he believed that he was indebted to her plenty already.

He took in the posters for the current productions in passing as he entered the lobby. The cozy atmosphere made his nerves calm a little, and a nice lady walked over to him, one arm extended. Her manner reminded him of Mrs. May, and her hand was smooth and warm.

“Rusty, right? Come in, come in. I’m Abigail. We talked over the phone. They’re ready for you.” She gestured for him to follow, while she walked as fast as her oxford shoes allowed, which was pretty fast.

Rusty felt his jitters from earlier returning in full force. “Am I late?” To make sure he wouldn’t make a fool of himself from the get-go, he had organized his time so that he would be there at least fifteen minutes early.

“Not at all. Only that we’re getting ready for a special show, which I hope you’ll join, and everyone’s running around like a headless chicken.” She opened the door toward the stage area as she turned to give him a beaming smile. “Go knock them off their feet,” she added. “And then come see me to sign your contract.”

She seemed confident he’d make a favorable impression on the audition panel, but whatever calm he must have found in himself before was now gone completely. He said a weak ‘hello’ as the three members of the panel turned to look at him as he walked in, and then, to make matters worse, he added a second hello, way too forcefully this time.

The man in the middle waved for him to hurry up. He had to be Augustus Cooper, the director of production and Abigail’s direct boss, as far as he could tell. At a bit over forty, he was the type of energetic figure that made things happen. Flanking him to the left, Rusty noticed Sophia Martinez, the artistic director, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties with a beautiful mess of a head of dark hair, while Emile Davis, the music director was sitting to the director of production’s right. From the little he gleaned as he inspected the three people turned to watch him with curiosity as he made his way to the stage, he could tell that Mr. Davis, who appeared quite taciturn and tight-lipped from the expression on his face had to be the guy to impress. And he obviously seemed to be the toughest cookie of the group. As the music director, he was the one to tip the balance as his choice of the right singers weighed the most. Even if the director of production liked him, and Mrs. Martinez found his voice adequate, if Mr. Davis shook his head once during his audition, he’d be out the door sooner than he could count to three. Which wasn’t a bad idea to start doing as his nerves were stretched rather badly in anticipation of this audition.

“Rusty Parker,” Mr. Cooper said in a no-nonsense manner that made Rusty believe that he might have read the man wrong and he was just as hard as the music director. “Since you have little to show in terms of formal musical education and experience, I believe that we’re ready to hear you perform.”

“And see you perform,” Mrs. Martinez added and offered him an encouraging smile.

“As the name above the entrance tells you, we’re into a certain sort of performance,” Mr. Cooper added after a courteous nod to the artistic director, to show his approval of her intervention.

As expected, Mr. Davis remained silent, his arms crossed over his chest, while his keen eyes inspected Rusty’s every move.

“Intimate arias, yes,” Rusty said quickly. Something was definitely wrong with his voice. It was either going too high or too low in places. Was he dooming this first audition from the start? That would be a bummer.

“What do you believe we mean by that?” Mrs. Martinez asked. Her fond smile was an anchor he very much needed under the circumstances.

“Soulful. Emotional.” He could barely string two words together. And he hoped to impress these people with his singing.

Mrs. Martinez nodded. “Not only. We are looking for the cheerful and uplifting, too. We are a small operation, as you can easily see. That means that we’re not shy about wanting to go viral with snippets of our artists’ performances on occasion.”

Rusty nodded. Viral. Of course. He had seen the shorts the company put up on occasion, and he had loved the vibe. “It’s about having fun,” he said and stopped abruptly. “Regardless of the feeling,” he added as Mrs. Martinez’s smile grew broader. “It doesn’t have to be romantic only.”

He realized he was wringing his hands one moment too late. The music director’s frown was enough indication that he wasn’t scoring points in terms of stage presence.

Mr. Cooper intervened. “Performing with us requires more than a pleasant voice.” Mr. Davis quirked an eyebrow at the director of production’s last words. What? Didn’t he even have a pleasant voice? Rusty could feel the sweat pouring down his back. He was thankful to Matty for suggesting he wear a black dress shirt. Blood and sweat didn’t show on black fabric, right? The number one reason ninjas wore black.

“Let’s allow Rusty to give us his best performance,” Mrs. Martinez said. “We tend to do things a bit differently around here, as we want to gauge as much of a performer’s ability to adapt, as well as knowledge of music during our interview. So, we’ll throw several pieces at you, and you’ll show us what you’ve got. I’ll cue the music,” she said, lifting one hand. “Ready?”

Rusty nodded. He should have taken a moment, because the first aria hit him right in his nerves. The instrumentals were barely two beats in, and he had to open his mouth.

The Italian words flew from his mouth, seemingly without his control.

“Non più andrai, farfallone amoroso…”

How right Mrs. May had been to drill into him that conditioning in singing was just as important as in sports. Some of the lessons from his basketball coach came back to him in a heartbeat. Even if his anxious mind was still struggling to keep up, the muscles of his face and throat moved in synch while his vocal cords performed as they had been trained to let the beautiful music out.

With each word pouring off his tongue, he regained his confidence. He moved from his spot and began berating an invisible Adonis of love with ample moves. This was one great choice for his style, and Rusty could just picture himself as Figaro admonishing a young Cherubino about his wayward ways with the ladies. He was getting so into character he felt a mustache growing in real time.

“And cut, and change,” Mrs. Martinez said with enthusiasm.

This time, at least, he had some time to transition from one character to another, and what was more challenging, from one language to another. “Oui, les Toreros, peuvent s'entendre…” French wasn’t his strongest suit, but he soldiered on, as performances of great baritones he had studied flashed through his mind. The rich dark tones of the music guided his steps as he stepped into the bullring of his imagination.

It took him a few moments to realize that the background instrumentals had faded away and Mrs. Martinez was on her feet, applauding frenetically. By her side, Mr. Cooper was grinning and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with what seemed a pleased expression on his face. Still, Mr. Davis remained unmoved, the same frown on his face, the same crossed arms. Rusty was starting to suspect the man of having become a statue sometime during his lively performance.

“Just one more,” Mrs. Martinez said, “since I noticed your voice to be quite interesting in its range. Don’t worry, it’s just as lively as the others.”

Rusty grinned as he realized he was being pushed toward the more familiar Italian again. The well-known Rigoletto aria was fun to execute and indeed, a way to showcase his abilities as a tenor, as well, in case that was what they were searching for instead of a baritone.

At the end of his performance, Mrs. Martinez fell back into her chair and fanned herself with one hand. “Augustus, I believe we have found our guy,” she said to the director of production. He’ll look great on the poster. Such an amazing stage presence! Tell me we can have him.”

Rusty still felt his attention drawn to the taciturn music director, who hadn’t showed one tidbit of interest or emotion. How had they chosen that guy for being part of a company that clearly went for the emotional side of things and music, in particular? No, he couldn’t think that way. Intimate Arias Theater looked and felt like a small-scale operation, but they didn’t cut corners. He was pretty sure he must have lost at least one pound of sweat as they put him through the wringer.

Finally, Mr. Cooper turned toward Mr. Davis. It was now or never. Sink or swim.

“Emile, what do you think?”

Mr. Davis leaned forward while giving Rusty a long stare. “How about being a bird-catcher?” His voice was incredible. It stunned Rusty for a moment, with its dark, velvety inflections. It seemed so incongruous coming from that stern man, or maybe the contrast was what made it so particularly special. “Without background instrumentals. Can you do it?”

Rusty nodded briefly. After all, he was here to prove himself. His German was not the brightest, but he could channel Papageno in his sleep. To help focus on the effort at hand, he closed his eyes for a moment.

He barely had time to sing the first lines.

“Stop,” Mr. Davis said.

Rusty braved the stern look, his hopes no longer so important. Even if this man said ‘no’, in the end, he’d leave this place knowing that he could sing.

“Well, Emile?” Mrs. Martinez asked impatiently.

“I’m with Sophia,” Mr. Cooper intervened. “Stop keeping us on tenterhooks. Just say it.”

Mr. Davis stood, buttoned his jacket in front, threw Rusty one last look, and then said one word. “Yes.”

Rusty had no idea if he was still standing or if he was pouring himself onto the stage. Mr. Davis was still frowning, but his last word was law. He heard as though from under water as Mrs. Martinez began congratulating him.

***

“How did it go?” Matty asked the moment he picked his phone up. He had been waiting for that phone call all day, not that he didn’t know precisely what time Rusty’s audition was.

“Matty, I’m wrung dry,” Rusty said in a weary, yet cheerful voice. “I had no idea auditions could be so intense.”

“Rusty, how did it go?” Matty insisted, feeling energized just hearing his guy’s voice.

“Totally, completely, utterly awesome!” Rusty shouted so loudly Matty had to quickly pull the phone away from his ear. “I’m getting only a small stipend as you would expect, and I told them I can’t make it during a certain weekend in September, but otherwise, it’s all said and done! I can barely wait to tell you everything. Also, I offered to work until fall as part of their stage crew. I had credentials for that, as I worked the summer before senior year as that, along with Maddie and Johnny boy. Trust me, that experience came in handy.”

“Excellent news, Rusty. And I didn’t sit idle while waiting for your phone call. I already found a cute studio apartment for the two of us that’s close enough to your theater.”

“For real? But Matty, you have your own goals,” Rusty moaned, his guilt easy to feel even through the phone.

“It’s only until fall, right? And then we will establish our base of operations based on where we both find work. Consider it an advance wedding gift from my folks. And there’s always the chance that I might consider striking out on my own.”

“What do you mean? Like freelancing?” Rusty seemed to be all ears. “I’m all ears,” he confirmed Matty’s guess right away. “I thought product designers had to work for large companies.”

“Are you even from this century?” Matty joked. “I’ll try my hand at it, maybe find a few projects with small clients I can handle alone before I seek employment in the corporate world like most people. Seeing how my future husband might be on the road a lot, I believe that having flexible work I can take with me anywhere is the way to go.”

“Wow,” Rusty whispered, “you’ve really thought of everything, Matty. Good. ‘Cause I’ll always be the scatterbrain in this family.”

“I don’t mind that. You’re the artist, after all. I’m the nuts and bolts guy,” Matty joked. Rusty snickered like a schoolboy, which prompted him to ask, “What?”

“You said nuts,” Rusty replied and guffawed in his usual easy manner.

Matty rolled his eyes. “Just hurry home. When do you start?”

“On Monday. I suppose it’ll take some time to rent that cozy studio apartment you were talking about.”

“I already signed the lease. Get here quickly. We have to pack.”

“What?! Confident much?”

“In your ability to charm any music people in the world?” Matty asked and snickered, too. “Complete confidence. Do you get it, Rusty? We’re going to live together.”

“Yep. Out of wedlock, in complete sin. Don’t worry, I plan on teasing Maddie and Johnny boy about it, as well.”

“I’m counting on it. Let’s get ready for our sinful life together.”

Matty let out a long exhalation after he finished his conversation with Rusty. For the moment, they were living with his parents, and they were in on the whole audition thing. Deciding that he couldn’t wait a moment longer to break the good news, he hurried out his bedroom door and down the stairs.

“He got it!” he shouted, making both his parents hurry to the foot of the stairs, with stars in their eyes.

“I haven’t doubted it for a moment,” his mom said.

“Neither have I,” his dad added. “That means that congratulations and a bit of a celebration are in order.”

Matty ended up in his parents’ arms, as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Thank you,” he said profusely. “I just want to let you know that we will have to pack and leave this weekend. Rusty starts on Monday.”

“So soon?” his mom exclaimed. “But you two need so many things!”

“Mom, we’re not going to be there for more than a couple of months. Don’t make it difficult for us to pack when we leave there.”

“Who knows?” his mom insisted. “Maybe they’ll fall in love with Rusty so deeply that they won’t let him go. And then, your temporary base will become a bit more permanent than you think.”

“Even if that’s the case,” his dad rushed to the rescue, taking his mom aside and kissing her cheek, “the boys will have to find a bigger place to call home. Let’s cross that bridge when we get there.”

His mom didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she was willing to make a concession for now. Matty couldn’t have been more grateful for his parents if he tried.

***

“And,” Rusty continued, “the music director, this is the guy who basically says if your voice and stage presence and all fit with everyone else, he seemed to be brooding the whole time. And later, I found out from Abigail that he was actually very impressed with me. So naturally, I asked about his perma-frown.”

Matty’s mom continued to fill his plate with food while listening with rapt attention.

“What about it?” Matty’s dad asked.

Rusty felt quite elated to recount every little tidbit of his experience. “It just means that he was already thinking of where to make the best use of me and my vocal abilities.” Abigail had also told him that Mr. Davis was an esteemed vocal coach in the community and that he had asked her for details about Mrs. May with the intention, the same gossipy assistant had assured him, of ‘stealing’ him for the foreseeable future.

He still didn’t know what to think about that. He’d have to talk it out with Mrs. May, who would surely give him the best advice. In the meantime, he could enjoy his success while taking in the beautiful faces at the table.

His family.

TBC