Chapter 4

How do you walk up to a conductor and tell him that you just disabled one of his soloists? That was going to be my task. We walked out of the little restaurant and headed back to the hotel.

"Is your leg going to be alright? I could go back and get your car," Jo said.

"No way you're walking back by yourself, Jo. And I'll be just fine."

"I won't have to worry about David accosting me for the rest of the day, Stoney. Thank you."

"Thank me for what?"

"For standing up for me."

"Jo, I'd be a sad individual if I wouldn't stand up for my friend."

I felt her hand touch mine as we walked, then almost shyly hold on. I turned to see her face. Shyness there too.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Not in the least. Been a long time since a girl held my hand out in public."

"I wish I understood people, Stoney," she said.

"Nothing to understand, little redheaded girl. I'm not physically attractive. I can see in the mirror."

"Doesn't bother me in the least."

"You're my only fan."

"I doubt that. And after tonight, you'll have plenty more."

I felt like I was twelve, with my first hand-holding little girlfriend. As we neared the hotel, we ran into a couple of the other members of the orchestra. Curious looks. Every one of them gave us a curious look. Jo just smiled placidly.

We walked into the lobby to find Bob pacing. He saw me and Jo and hurried over, cellphone in hand. "Shit, Stoney! Shit! You punched out my trumpet soloist."

Jo jumped in. "Doctor Bob, it was self-defense. Stoney and I were at a restaurant minding our own business. David and his buds walked in and David grabbed me. Stoney told him to stop and go away, and David swung at Stoney three times before Stoney fought back."

Bob shook his head. "I know. I got the story. Stevie and Carson called when they left the police station. David's still at the hospital. I guess I have to go get him." He looked at me. "You punched his face in?"

"He was drunk. High. Both. And his buddies ... I tried to get them to take him away."

"He's out of it." He looked at Jo. "I know you're good with your solo tonight, but that Mozart piece. We've done it a time or two. That was going to be the Christmas concert. Are you up to it?"

I saw Jo straighten her back like she was drawing up an extra measure of resolve. "I can do it."

"We have this evening's rehearsal to tighten it up," Bob said.

"Bob," I said, "I'm really sorry about David. I tried..."

"Boy's had it coming for a long time. Don't know where he got that rockstar, prima donna attitude, but he's been pushing it. And I've tried to counsel him about the drinking, but you know how it is when you're young. Invulnerable."

I fingered my scar. "Yeah. I know."

Bob returned a sort of sheepish half-smile. "Not what I meant, Stoney. Sorry. These kids ... They're not anything like that. If he didn't play trumpet, David would be absolutely useless."

"It's okay, Bob. I know what you meant." As I finished that statement, Jo bumped against me.

"I'm gonna go to my room. I'll call you later." She left me standing in the lobby as she joined a couple of other female orchestra members heading up the hall.

I started to turn that way myself, but Bob spoke my name.

"Stoney," he said, "You might get some comments about David. Just so you know MY version, I have no doubt that he had it coming. The fact that he's getting booked at the police station sort of confirms that, but law aside, the boy's been cruising for a bruising for a while."

"Thanks, Bob," I said, "but still..."

"Waste your time worrying about something else, son. And Jo's been chomping at the bit over that Mozart piece. I've been reining her in because we wanted to showcase David. You did her more than one favor today."

"She played some of that Mozart piece for me on the way up here. And that Mozart Concerto for Flute and Harp. You need to find a competent harpist."

"Maybe we can do that for Christmas," he said. "By the way ... holding hands? You and Jo?"

"Started BEFORE I punched out your musician," I said. "I need a friend. So does she."

He smiled. "You already got ONE of my musicians, buddy."

I went back to my room and stretched out again. I was contemplating the process of getting up and driving to the concert hall to set up when the room phone rang.

"This is Stoney," I said.

"Hi, Stoney. Can you give your girlfriend a ride?"

"Sure," I laughed. "That's a boyfriend's job."

Giggle. "Meet me in the lobby?"

"Sure," I said. "I'm putting my shoes on." Click.

I slid into my loafers and headed out the door. In the lobby, Jo was conversing with several of the other players. I walked up, recognized the guy in the group as one of the percussionists, Jefferson. Yeah, black guy. And we had, on occasion shared a laugh over stereotypes. "White guy engineer, Black dude playin' drums." And all sorts of other musical hardware that you got sounds from by beating it with a stick.

"Whoa, Mister Stoney," he said, "You punched David in the mouth?"

I looked at Jo. "News gets around fast."

"Stevie and Carson just got back," she said. "Their story is, shall we say, 'embellished'. They're not particularly artful at lying. Neither of 'em will talk to me."

"Said you put 'is ass down with one punch," Jefferson said.

"I didn't punch im. I pushed on 'is face with my hand."

"David swung at Stoney three times before Stoney pushed him," Jo said. "Asked Stevie and Carson to take David away before things got bad."

"That's what Stevie said. Said David didn't think you'd swing on 'im because you was, you know, older an' all that."

I shook my head. "First, he laid his hands on Jo and didn't stop when she asked him. Second, he swung THREE times. I asked Stevie and Carson to take him away. They didn't. And he got dumber. So I pushed 'im to make 'im stop."

"Dude," one of the other guys said. "Broke 'is NOSE. Busted both lips. Knocked a tooth out."

"I didn't know about the tooth," I said.

"You, like, one a'them black ops dudes?"

"Nope. I am just like you. I went to college. Got a degree. ROTC paid for some of it, so I owed 'em. I was just an engineer lieutenant, that's all. No special nuthin'." I glanced at my watch. "Don't y'all have some music to play somewhere?"

Jo tugged my sleeve. "Come on, Stoney. They'll follow. They react well to leadership."

"Yeah," Jefferson said, laughing. "'Specially after you beat the shit outta one a'us."

Twenty minutes later they were trooping into the concert hall after the leased bus parked. After reviewing the layout, I started setting up my system, trying to stay out of the way of a roomful of young musicians.

Bob ascended the podium. "Can I have your attention?" he said loudly. The room silenced.

"I'm sure you all heard that we lost the use of David's trumpet this evening, so we're going to change up the program."

"Program's already printed," came an anonymous comment.

"Yeah, I know," Bob replied. "We're going to announce that David has medical issues and cannot play."

"Muhfuh can freakin' hum," came another comment. Sounded suspiciously like Jefferson and was followed by general tittering.

"Okay, okay," Bob said. "Let's go ahead and get it out. Who all knows what happened to David?"

Carson and Stevie hung their heads.

"Carson? Stevie?" Neither volunteered a story. Bob continued. "According to the police department, David walked up to Jo, grabbed 'er, and Mister Stoney came to her defense."

"Hit 'im ONCE!" Stevie volunteered. "David swung three times. And then Mister Stoney did one punch. Caved 'is face in."

"Okay," Bob said. "That's the story. Here's the plan for tonight. We're going to make one change to the solo performances. Obviously, David can't get a note out his trumpet..."

"He could blow it out 'is ass," came another Jeffersonian comment.

"Mister Jefferson, if you please, there are people of civilized demeanor present."

"And dey be laughin', too. But I'll shut up now." Jefferson played the dialect for effect. I know his dad was an executive for a big company in Houston.

"Okay, now that the Jarvis Jefferson comedy tour is over, here's what's next. In place of David doing the Haydn Trumpet Concerto, we're going to double up on Miss Jo and do that Mozart piece instead, K .314. I think we're all there on that. Unless you want to do that oboe piece, Miss Keshia."

"I'll make a deal with you, Doctor Bob," Keshia said. "You give my pale princess friend two tonight an' if Mister David still can't play in December, I'll do mine then."

I was still weaving in and out amongst the players, connecting, positioning, measuring, making sure that I replicated the geometry of my equipment as closely as possible to the setups we'd used back home. I was near Keshia. She whispered, "I hope you busted that jerk up good."

I guess I might've done a universal favor.

I returned to my console. It was set up discretely off-stage. I didn't really need to be in actual view of the orchestra, but it was pleasing vantage point. Bob turned to me and I gave him a 'thumbs up' sign. By the end of the practice session, I had my equipment dialed in. I ran through each sensor station in turn, comparing levels against the master level display and then I settled back, letting the equipment do its job. It wasn't quite a supercomputer, but this bit of processing power could monitor complex industrial processes 24/7. Catching a bit of music was a walk in the park.

Pulled up one channel and make it the center of the screen. Jo. Got her again when she ran through the solo pieces. Eddie's right. She can't help but smile when she plays.

At the end of practice, Bob laid out the schedule for the next day. "Rehearsal at one PM. Two hours. Then the bus leaves the hotel at five for the concert." He glanced at me as I was closing up my console. "And if you're gonna do something stupid, PLEASE don't do it around Mister Stoney."

"Geez, Bob," I said.

The group broke up, putting instruments into cases and filing out to the waiting bus. I gathered a smiling redhead. And her equally smiling oboist friend.

"You don't mind if I ride with you, Mister Stoney?"

"Just 'Stoney', and no, I don't mind."

"Well, somebody said they saw you an' Jo holdin' hands walkin' down the street today. I don't wanna be in the way."