Ruby got to rehearsal just in time, weaving between Jonathan and Ethan’s chairs and waving at Steve in a silent “hello.” She took off her hat and wet coat and shivered, chattering her teeth for effect.
“I hate February.”
“You might like it more if you got a decent coat,” said Jonathan, as Ethan offered her his sweater, still warm from his body heat. “Something that’s actually weatherproof. Your violin is more protected than you are.”
“Because my violin is more valuable than I am.”
Jonathan tsked and thumped her on the head. “That’s not true.”
“Anyway, my violin always has a weatherproof case. I have to remember to pick up the right coat on my way out the door. I knew it was cold, but I didn’t realize it was rainy.”
“You’re a mess,” said Steve.
She stuck out her tongue at him and collapsed in her chair, and pulled Ethan’s sweater over her head before taking out her violin. She tightened her bow while the other guys settled into their seats and readied their instruments. Soon the sound of bowing and tuning filled their rehearsal space.
“What are we playing today?” asked Ethan, once the din settled down.
Steve passed around some bound portfolios, marked with their various parts—violin 1, violin 2, viola, and his own part, cello. “I’ve got this new—old—music, in case you don’t still have it in your folders.”
“How old?” Ethan groaned.
“It’s the Schoenberg Concerto,” said Ruby, flipping it open. She leafed through the first few pages, then hugged it to her chest. “Oh, Schoeny, I’ve missed you. We haven’t done this in forever.”
“We haven’t done this since the Banff Competition three years ago,” said Ethan. “Why are we revisiting it now?”
“Because we have to perfect it.” Jonathan, too, flipped through the pages. “The entire damn thing, because we’re going to be playing it for a guest appearance.”
Ruby and Ethan both turned to Steve, who arranged their bookings.
“Remember when I sent a recording of us to the Berlin Philharmonic?” he said. “The recording from our Los Angeles Symphony collaboration last fall? Turns out they fucking loved it. They want us to perform with them during their spring festival.”
“No way,” said Ruby, shocked. “No way. This isn’t real.”
“It is real, and we’re getting the celebrity treatment—first class plane tickets, swanky hotel, limos, and all the room service we can eat.”
Ruby looked down at the violin she held, and saw her fingers shaking a little. The Berlin Philharmonic was the top symphony in the world, and if they esteemed them enough to give them the “celebrity treatment,” then…
“Holy crap, you guys, this means we’ve made it. Really made it. I guess we’ve broken into the top tier.”
“Kiddo, we are the top tier,” said Steve. “At least we will be after this Berlin appearance.”
“And it’s not an accident,” said Jonathan, cutting in. “We’ve worked for this. This is what comes of all these rehearsals and discussions—”
“And arguments,” Steve added. “And practicing and collaborating together—”
“And respecting each other,” said Ethan, his blue eyes thoughtful. “We couldn’t have done any of this individually. This is all…” He stopped and made an inclusive motion to all of them. “This is us working as a team.”
What a huge moment. An exciting moment, and Ruby didn’t intend for her mind to turn to the idea of sex, but when he said “working as a team,” it went there right away. She’d developed sexual relationships with all the guys in the quartet over the past few months, and that was a kind of teamwork. Naughty, filthy, wonderful teamwork.
Focus, Rube, this isn’t the time.
“Holy shit,” said Steve. “The whole Schoenberg Concerto for String Quartet, played with the Berlin Philharmonic. We accomplished this in six years.”
“When’s the concert?” asked Ethan.
“Yeah, and are we going to plan a big trip around it?” Ruby clasped her hands under her chin. “Maybe we could make some other appearances. Italy or France…”
“We just found out about this, guys,” said Jonathan. “I’m open to a discussion, but do we want to focus on the one appearance, or muddy up our schedule with other stuff?”
“I guess we know your opinion,” said Steve.
“I agree with Jonathan.” Ethan shrugged and pushed back his unruly hair. “Let’s not overextend ourselves.”
Something was pinging at Ruby’s brain, demanding her attention. She finally remembered—her Las Vegas trip, also scheduled for spring. Three of her closest friends were taking her there for her birthday in April, to gamble, drink, and ogle strippers. They’d been planning it since they’d met up the previous summer.
“It’s not the weekend of my birthday, is it?” she asked. “The weekend I’m going to Vegas?”
The other three guys went still. “What are the dates again?” Jonathan asked Steve.
Steve checked his notes. “April 9th through the 16th, including travel time, two rehearsals, and three performances.” He looked back up at Ruby. “Damn. Your birthday’s the 10th, yeah?”
“The 11th,” said Ethan, as Ruby processed the disappointment. Her Vegas trip was right in the middle of the Berlin dates.
“Could you reschedule your trip, Rube?” Jonathan asked. “Did you buy refundable tickets?”
“No, but that doesn’t matter. The tickets were cheap. The problem is finding another time when everyone can meet up and come. Joanie and Sasha are working in New York now, and Celia’s pregnant… We started planning this ages ago.” She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “But it doesn’t matter. We can’t pass this up, can we?”
They didn’t say anything. She’d been so excited when she booked the trip with her friends, she’d blabbed through an entire rehearsal about it. They must know how much it meant to her.
“Maybe we could get a sub,” said Ethan, without much enthusiasm.
“What, we’re going to go play in Berlin with a sub? Think the Philharmonic would like that?” Jonathan snapped.
Ruby’s eyes were welling, which was stupid, because she really wanted to go on the trip to Berlin and get the top-tier celebrity treatment. But she also dreaded telling her friends their Vegas trip was off. Well, her friends could still go, but she wouldn’t be there.
“We’ll just start planning again for some time in the future,” she said, putting on a brave face. “We’ll find some other time. Vegas is always going to be there, right? It’s not going away.”
“You sure this is okay?” asked Steve. “We might be able to…”
His voice trailed off. Ask the Philharmonic to reschedule their spring festival on their account? So their second violinist could meet some friends in Vegas, and drink and gamble? And perv over strippers?
Vegas strippers were probably cheesy anyway. Her quartet lovers were gorgeous, and she could perv over them whenever she wanted.
“I’m sure we should go to Berlin,” she said, and she meant it this time. “This is a huge opportunity for us. And it’s going to be fun, right? First class flight, sexy hotel—”
Jesus, she’d meant to say swanky hotel, not sexy hotel. The guys all gave her that look—the sexy look. They could bang in Berlin. She could sleep over with Ethan if she felt like artful rope and soulful fucking, or Jonathan if she wanted bondage and strict orders. She could bed down with Steve if she wanted fun, nasty, athletic, rough sex. Maybe she could sleep with a different guy every night while they were there.
Or…
Or what, Ruby? All of them together, at the same time, ganging up on you the way they do during rehearsal arguments sometimes?
Ruby had never said the word “ménage” out loud. Never asked for it, never hinted at it. What did you even call a ménage with more than three people? A gang bang? That wasn’t what she wanted. A ménage à quatre, because there would be four?
A ménage à quartet?
“We should go,” she said, glad the guys couldn’t hear the kinds of thoughts running through her head. “Don’t even think about my birthday getting cancelled or anything. Don’t even mention it again.”
“We can celebrate your birthday over there,” said Ethan. “We’ll be in Europe, in Berlin. There’s tons to do there.”
“Yeah, for sure,” said Steve. “We’ll plan something fun.”
Ménage à quartet, her unruly mind whispered.
“We can talk about this later,” said Jonathan, going into boss mode. “Ruby, thanks for your flexibility. If we’re in agreement that we’re headed to Berlin, then we need to dive into this concerto and start practicing the hell out of it. Let’s run through and see what we remember.”
Ruby lifted her violin and placed it beneath her chin, watching for Jonathan’s down bow. Thank God he was forcing her to focus on the music rather than the raunchy—and unrealistic—fantasies tumbling through her brain.
Like they’d even be able to share her. They were way too different for that.
“Earth to Ruby,” Jonathan said, lifting his bow after she made her second error in as many measures. “Should we start again?”
She nodded, squelching the urge to say “Yes, Sir” in front of the others. She bit her lip, steeled herself, and gave the Schoenberg piece on her music stand the attention it deserved.