Page 7 of Play Me

Chapter Four

SEBASTIAN

“What time is it?” I get up from my seat for the fifth time in the last two minutes.

“Add about thirty-six seconds to what I told you the last time you asked.” Brad answers from his spot on the beanbag, arms and legs spread out like an octopus, his violin bow see-sawing up and down, balancing on top of his forehead.

“I wasn’t listening.” I tell him honestly. I turn to the greenroom door and wrench it open, peering down the hallway at the crew rushing around, doing their jobs. Which includes ignoring me.

“Ask me again in thirty seconds.” Brad offers.

“Gah, just fucking tell me already.” I slam the door shut and sit back down on the couch, pushing Jez’s hand away when he puts in on my knee to stop the incessant jiggling.

“Chill, man, it’s 6:30, we’re on in an hour.” Brad relents.

I don’t think I can last an hour. My adrenaline’s peaked and it needs to act now. My fingers are twitching, they’ve played every chord progression of the first few songs over and over against my leg and they were itching to wrap around my cello.

“Can’t we just go on now?” I ask them seriously, my leg jiggling so much the water in the jug on the coffee table builds up momentum and threatens to spill over the rim.

“No. Not if you want anyone to be there to listen, man.” Jez answers, his voice trying to stay calm but ending up somewhere between amused and over it.

“Since when did we care if anyone was listening?” I’m getting desperate now. I stand back up and start to pace, drumming my fingers against my leg and biting the fingers on my left hand.

“Since we started charging them seventy dollars a pop to show up and listen.” Marius calls out from his yoga stance in the corner. I feel like pushing him over and shoving his bow somewhere downward on his dog.

I can feel their eyes on me as I pace the room. Walking back and forth, corner to corner, around the chaises with no pattern in mind, muttering to myself, reminding myself of the set list, of opening and closing comments, crowd pleasers.

“Man, he hasn’t been this bad in a long time.” I vaguely hear Marius say.

“Maybe since Amsterdam.” Jez chuckles.

“Yeah?”

“Well, remember what happened in Amsterdam.”

“No, I don’t, dear Jeremy. Why don’t you remind me?” Brad says to Jez, calling him by his full name.

“Why, Bradley, one might remember that one Mr. Sebastian had a visitor one night there in Amsterdam.”

“Oh yes, one does remember. A rather loud visitor, if one does remember correctly.”

“Oh yes, one does remember correctly indeed.”

“It seems one’s visitor helped wonders with Mr. Sebastian’s preperformance jitters. Perhaps it is time one Mr. Sebastian has another visitor?”

“Isn’t that Dennis’ job?” Marius agrees.

“It bloody hell isn’t.” The voice comes booming through the intercom interrupting the banter.

“Aw fuck, who turned that on?” Jez growls at the baby monitor Dennis uses as an intercom to spy on us.

“Well, it wasn’t me.” Brad says defensively.

“No one’s thinking it was you, Brad. When’s the last time you turned anything on?” Marius quips, grinning at Jez and high fiving him.

“Hey!”

“I turned it on before you dickheads went in there.” Dennis’ voice booms through the tiny speaker. “Now shut the fuck up and leave Sebastian alone. And Sebastian, stop fucking pacing, sit down and chill the fuck out. Remember the breathing lessons Hailey gave you.”