“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Hawthorne,” the lead recording tech called out from the massive table of monitors and equipment at one end of the room. “Sir Antonio,” he added, nodding to the august man.
“Mr. Hawthorne?” Sir Antonio asked.
Nally nodded, moving to sit at the amazing grand piano in front of the full orchestra, still unable to believe he was the captain of this particular ship.
The piece they were recording was for an album of new material, much of which had been composed withTo Serve Himin mind, but which hadn’t made it to the final cut of the film. Silver Productions had made the arrangements ages ago and was footing the bill, and ultimately, they and the LSO would collect the lion’s share of the profits from the recording. Nally was happy with the agreement, as it would help his star to rise even more and because he truly loved the pieces he’d composed and wanted the world to hear them.
It was surreal to hear one of the best orchestras in the world play something that had started life in his heart. It was even headier when his piano joined in with the strings and woodwinds. But wildest of all was when they reached the bit with his piano solo.
Something happened to Nally when he slipped into the zone of his music. He wasn’t himself anymore, at least not the everyday version of himself. He was something purer and higher. The piece that he played as the rest of the orchestra softened to a whisper had come straight from his heart. It was tender and romantic, an expression of his soul.
He blocked everything else out and just played. His fears of success, and of failure, vanished. His worry that if things changed, they would change for the worst disappeared. The only thing that remained in his heart and mind were the strains of the song…and Jude.
He smiled and let go of all the restraints he’d imposed on himself as he played. He never would have admitted it before, but he’d composed that heart-wrenching, powerful piece with Jude as his sole focus. It was everything he felt for his friend, every joy Jude gave him and every bit of warmth and affection he had for him. It wasn’t a song about two mates goofing off or being typical twenty-somethings. It was rich and pure and so much deeper than anything else he’d ever composed.
It was love, and there was no way he could run from it or the destruction it might bring anymore.
The solo gave way to another swell of sound as the orchestra joined back in. The musicians were amazing, and under Sir Antonio’s direction, they captured exactly the feel Nally had had in mind when he’d composed the piece. By the time they finished, the entire church was filled with an intangible buzz of emotional excitement.
As soon as the tech gave the signal that they were no longer recording, the musicians lowered their instruments, and several burst into applause for Nally. “That was amazing,” the concert master, who sat closest to Nally, congratulated him. “You are exceptionally talented.”
Nally burst into a smile and immediately turned to look for Jude. Jude was applauding along with the rest of them, his face a canvas of emotion, his blue eyes electric with affection.
That was it. There was no getting around it anymore. Nally and Jude weren’t just friends. They’d run as long as they could, but Nally had spilled the truth of his heart in song, and he saw the answer to his musical offering in the affection that radiated from Jude. They were going to have to deal with the fallout, and if it ended them, it would probably kill Nally.
“Bravo! That was amazing! Bravo!”
The manic shout from the back corner of the church shocked Nally out of his maelstrom of emotions. He glanced beyond Jude to find Quentin applauding loudly and striding forward. The shock of seeing him was so sharp that Nally stood abruptly, nearly knocking the piano bench over as he did.
“Who is he?” Sir Antonio asked, offended by the interruption. “How did he get in here?”
“No, no, you can’t be here,” Jude said, flying to his feet and moving to intercept Quentin as he charged straight for Nally.
Someone shouted, “Get security!”
Someone else asked, “How did he even get in here? This is a closed session.”
Quentin kept moving forward, and when he attempted to shove Jude out of the way, Nally surged forward with, “Don’t touch him!”
“Nally,” Quentin gasped, ignoring everything but Nally, even though Jude still blocked his way. “I have to speak to you. We can’t go on like this any longer.”
“Do you know this man?” a burly man in black trousers and a t-shirt with the word “Security” on the back asked, rushing to join Jude’s efforts to keep Quentin from Nally.
“No. Not really,” Nally answered, panic rising up in him and making him feel sick.
“Of course you know me,” Quentin insisted. “We’re in love,” he told the security guard.
The orchestra members had all risen from their seats and now looked on in confusion. Too many of them stared at Nally. It was exactly the sort of attention that he didn’t want and all the reasons why fame had felt like too much. “Go away,” he told Quentin, sounding and feeling like he was half his age. None of this could be happening.
“Nally, I love you,” Quentin insisted, struggling against the men who held him. “Why did you stop answering my messages? What do you mean that we should keep things professional?”
“I…I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nally said, edging to the side, like he could maybe put the piano between him and Quentin.
“You do know, you do!” Quentin insisted. He told the security guard, “Nally and I write to each other all the time. He knows who I am. We were meant to be together.”
“I’ve never written anything to you,” Nally insisted.
He glanced to Jude, who had stepped back when a second security guard moved in to handle Quentin. Instead of sending Nally a look of reassurance, Jude looked as guilty as hell.
