The Sweetest Scent Part 27

They played all kinds of musical pieces, from cla.s.sical concertos to popular songs. When it was time for one of them to perform solo and shine in their particular musical genre, the partygoers always seemed to halt and listen. And then they would clap for a while to show their appreciation, and immediately after start mingling and chatting again until the next solo.

Lacey had agreed to do a violin sonata with Parker accompanying her on the piano. She had already performed her piece, Matthew Davidson's Bergamasques Bergamasques for solo violin. It was a modern piece with some interesting pa.s.sages. They had decided beforehand they would focus on newer compositions, rather than the older cla.s.sics. for solo violin. It was a modern piece with some interesting pa.s.sages. They had decided beforehand they would focus on newer compositions, rather than the older cla.s.sics.

But now, with Parker, they were going to play Meditations Meditations by Thais to bring the rowdy mood back down a bit, since the Sat.u.r.day night was still relatively young at 9:00 p.m. by Thais to bring the rowdy mood back down a bit, since the Sat.u.r.day night was still relatively young at 9:00 p.m.

As they began and the sublime notes echoed through the halls, people stopped what they were doing and stood there, listening. Though some appeared bored, most frowned in concentration, and a few were obviously moved-their jaws quivered and they blinked hard. The mournful piece was one of Lacey's favorites, but she rarely had anyone to play it with since she couldn't play the piano, and even if she could, she only had two hands. The soulful tune sounded simple, but it was technically difficult to coax the right mood out of the instrument. Every single nuance of the phrasing demanded emotional presence from the musician, and thankfully, this was a lesson Lacey had already learned. In the end, it sounded as if the violin was weeping in her hands, and the audience felt it.

As they finished, silence filled the house for a blink of an eye. Then a shudder seemed to run through the crowd, like a wave, and an awakening occurred. The applause that followed was thunderous and eager. Lacey couldn't keep the smile off her face as she bowed.

It was time for their break between the hour-and-a-half sets.

Recorded jazz music started to play from speakers throughout the mansion as soon as the musicians stepped off stage.

They stepped into the shadows of the hallway reserved for performers and servers, and Parker laughed and hugged Lacey so enthusiastically he lifted her off her feet. "Wow. We totally owned the room. We rocked."

Lacey beamed. She agreed. They had played remarkably well. It was official: her first formal performance was a raving success. "We definitely did." She took deep breaths to calm her frayed nerves. She'd been so nervous in the beginning, but as time had gone by she had grown more relaxed. "Oh, Parker, you were brilliant. Your interpretation of Liebermann's sonata for piano and flute, only with Spenser's sax instead, was incredibly masterful. Amazing."

Parker actually blushed. "Thank you kindly, dear lady." He glanced over his shoulder at the stage. "Pianoforte is not my specialty, but yes, I think I did rather well." He used his most posh voice and raised his chin in an imitation of sn.o.bbery, but his lips, twitching with pent-up laughter, gave him away.

Lacey chuckled and nodded her agreement. "You did indeed, kind sir."

Parker seemed ridiculously pleased, and he bowed his whole upper body. "Oh, milady, I knew I'd win you over eventually." Then he winked. "I'd love to play some Dvorak with you."

Lacey smiled. "Me too. Sounds heavenly."

"Oh, how come I only ever hear those words from your sweet lips when we're talking about wretched music, my dear, and never about s.e.x?" Parker pouted dramatically, his exaggerated expression downright despondent.

Lacey chuckled and bussed his cheek. "Because we're friends, not lovers."

"Ah, I suppose that's true," Parker said wistfully.

"All right, I'm going to the bathroom. We're on in fifteen again, right?"

"Twenty."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lacey saw Deacon hovering close by, obviously having eavesdropped on them because the moment their gazes connected, Deacon flushed red and hung his head to hide it. Lacey didn't know what the guy's problem was now, so she headed for the bathroom to get some relief.

Once she was done with her business, she unlocked and opened the door, only to find Professor Marchand standing on the other side, perhaps waiting to get in. Strange. Surely the man had other bathrooms in his own place.

"Professor," she said congenially and offered a polite smile. "Thanks again for having us here tonight. It's been wonderful to play in front of people."

Professor Marchand chuckled lowly and then leaned forward a bit, as if taking Lacey into his confidence. "Even if all these people are here to be seen, to mingle, and to drink, not to listen to the finest musicians of the decade?"

Stunned, Lacey didn't know which part to respond to first, the curious compliment or the disparagement of his own friends and colleagues. "Um...."

But the dashing man merely smiled, waving a hand about. "No need to answer. I'm just on my-" He frowned, contemplating the drink in his hand. "- fifth drink of the evening, and I do believe the good stuff is really good tonight." He winked.

Lacey smiled again, though the gesture was forced. She smelled alcohol on his breath, and since her father was a recovering alcoholic with h.o.m.ophobia and violence issues, the odor was enough to bring forth bad memories. "Yes, of course." She peeked past him to the empty, dimly lit hallway and tried to plan her escape from the company of her drunken idol.

But then Professor Marchand said admiringly, "Your performance tonight, Lacey, was spectacular. More than I could've hoped for."

Lacey's gaze flew to him, eyes widening. That was so great to hear. "Really?"

"Oh yes." The man nodded, smiling. "You moved so beautifully, so fluidly. Your bow hand, your body. It was like you embodied music. Like you became one with your instrument. And you were emotionally present, all the time. Your stage presence was so natural. You have a real gift for performance."

Lacey beamed. "Thank you."

"I mean, I could feel your pa.s.sion for the notes, the harmonies, the phrasing, all of it." He sounded so impressed with her Lacey was all but bouncing with glee. "The way you cajoled and seduced the music from the violin, oh, it was as if you were making love to your violin."

That remark made Lacey blush. No one had ever characterized her playing in such a way. "Um, thank you...." I think I think.

"No, thank you." Professor Marchand leaned closer again, and his tone dropped lower as he went on. "Watching you play was so d.a.m.n close to a s.e.x act with music I almost felt like I was watching a live p.o.r.n show at a strip joint."

"What...?" Lacey wasn't smiling anymore. The high she'd been on was gone. This wasn't good at all. This was something darker, dirtier, cheapening his previous compliments.

Professor Marchand sounded excited about his interpretation-and then his hand came up to wrap around Lacey's wrist, and his fingers slowly inched up her arm, bare up to the elbow. "I'd love to have a private performance. And perhaps, who knows, we could make some music of our own. Together. Tonight. After the guests leave. What do you say?"

Bile rose up in Lacey's throat at the thought of being crushed under the heavy weight of a drunken man wanting to f.u.c.k her. Her first reaction was to run, hide, and cry.

But then nausea gave way to anger, and her second reaction was part girl power, part entirely male. Dressed as a girl she sometimes forgot how much strength she had within his his manly physique and mentality. Now she used it and shoved him off hard to put distance between them. "Get off me." manly physique and mentality. Now she used it and shoved him off hard to put distance between them. "Get off me."

As he stumbled backward a few steps, Professor Marchand spilled some of his drink on his expensive black tie. "What the f.u.c.k?" The shock of rejection indicated this was obviously not what he'd expected from this encounter.

As he was wiping the front of his jacket with his napkin, Lacey growled out, "Don't you ever touch me again, or I'll rip your b.a.l.l.s off. I can't believe I used to believe that because you were the most amazing musician in the world, you'd be an honorable person too. I can't believe I looked up to you. I'll go to the dean about this."

Still busy cleaning himself from his spillage, Professor Marchand nonetheless let out a breathless laugh. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm a famous composer, and you're a little first-year student with no name. You can say what you want, but I'll spin the story until it appears I gave you a bad grade, or something, and you're lashing out in jealousy, envy, and revenge. No one's going to believe you."

Lacey swallowed hard, so angry she was shaking. What he said was probably true. Those in power who had the right connections banded together and got away with everything. Still, she wasn't going to be a victim ever again.

"My name is Lacey Adair. And if you so much as brush up against me, by the time we're done you will remember my name."

Undeterred, Professor Marchand grunted, chuckling even. "Whatever. Your second set's about to start. Better hurry." Dismissing Lacey with an impatient wave, Professor Marchand continued his cleaning in between sips of what was left of his drink.

Lacey felt physically sick, and her arm was itching where he had touched it. Without another word, she rushed off, wanting to get away, not just to get a breath of fresh air, but so she wouldn't kick the man in the groin so hard his nuts would become internal organs.

She was still shaking when she reached the low podium serving as a stage.

Deacon saw her first, and immediately he came up to her, frowning with worry. "Hey, you okay?"

Mulling over how much to share, since Deacon would probably storm off and beat the guy to a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp, Lacey made a decision and put on her best casual expression, even smiling a bit. "I'm fine. Just indigestion, or something. I'm good. Are we on?"

"Yeah." Deacon didn't look convinced, but he nodded and walked back to the drums.

Parker, however, was standing close by, and his worried look differed from Deacon's protective one. Parker's look was darker, more suspicious, and definitely not gullible. "What's wrong, Lacey?"

"Nothing. Let's just do the set. I'm getting tired, is all. Been a long week." Excuses flowed out of her mouth. No, not excuses. Lies. It was surprisingly easy. But she was determined not to be pitied simply because a mentor and an idol had busy hands and got fresh with her when no one was looking. She wasn't a victim anymore. Her father may have hated and even hit his gay son, but no one else was ever going to see her that weak and vulnerable.

Except maybe Bro. He understood. He was safe for her to share secrets with. G.o.d, Bro, I miss you so much right now G.o.d, Bro, I miss you so much right now.

Then Parker's sharp, knowledgeable gaze veered past Lacey's shoulder, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Professor Marchand appear from the dark corridor, slightly disheveled, still smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes.

Lacey felt the tremors of pent-up rage again, and her face went stony as her hands fisted hard. How could he just stroll along as if nothing had happened?

But the arrogant professor's award-winning smile was firmly in place and actually amped up in wattage as he pa.s.sed them. This was the face of a man who believed he had asked for no more than his due. Devil's due, more like Devil's due, more like. Lacey wanted to scream.

"Nothing wrong, eh?" Parker watched the man as he walked by and then looked at Lacey with perceptive eyes. "I see."

Swallowing down her disappointment, Lacey ignored Parker's insinuations. Instead, she picked herself up, took her violin from the dresser, stepped onto the stage, and gave the second set her full and undivided attention. She was going to shine even if her heart was swamped by the filthy darkness of an unwanted touch.

Still, she couldn't wait to get out of there.

Chapter 25.

"COME on, brother. Just one more." Eddy's teasing was starting to irk Bro. on, brother. Just one more." Eddy's teasing was starting to irk Bro.

Nonetheless, he allowed his plain plastic cup to be refilled from the keg until it overflowed and foam ran down over his fingers. "f.u.c.k!" he cursed. He grabbed a napkin and dried his hand. Then his accusatory gaze landed on his friend. "If you or anyone starts chanting 'chug, chug, chug,' I'm gonna chuck something hard and heavy at you."

Eddy chuckled and lifted his hands, palms up in a surrendering gesture. "Sorry." But he didn't look apologetic at all, just mischievous.

Bro took another sip of his beer-yuck, warm!-and looked around the crowd. They were at a noisy kegger at Carver Hall, Eddy's all-male dorm, where Eddy had lured Bro when he was feeling melancholy at losing a perfectly good Sat.u.r.day with his girl while Lacey was performing at her cla.s.sy soiree. After Eddy discovered the cause of Bro's bad mood, he had been insistent that Bro come with him to the party. Though open to all races, Howard University was a historically black college, so the crowd was predominantly African-American.

Unfortunately, Bro knew next to no one there.

At least, not until he spotted Bradley and Audrey, as well as a couple of his teammates, in the crowd. He hailed them with his drink.

Bradley noticed him and gave him a comradely chin lift as he approached. "Hey, you. I thought you were staying in tonight."

They b.u.mped knuckles. "Yeah, I was supposed to, but this d.i.c.kwad wouldn't leave me alone." He aimed a thumb at Eddy, who had followed him over and smirked at the insult.

"How's Lace?" Audrey asked sweetly, her gaze flickering to Eddy briefly. From the flash in her eyes, Bro could have sworn Audrey didn't think much of the guy.

"We spoke just before she left. She wasn't overly fond of having to spend her free day at some G.o.d-awful party, either. I texted her when I came here, but she hasn't texted me back." He rechecked his cell as he spoke. Nothing. No texts or missed calls. He shrugged but felt unhappy. "Guess she's still busy."

Audrey patted his shoulder. "It's only eleven. She'll be fine. She's a great violinist."

"Yeah, she is," Eddy cut in, chuckling, and Audrey's smile vanished as she frowned. "I heard her play at Shenandoah. f.u.c.king amazing." He sounded sincere enough to Bro, but Audrey did have a knack for detecting bulls.h.i.t artists. "Want another beer?" he asked Bro, his eager smile as wide as ever.

Bro shook his head. "Nah. I'm good."

Eddy nodded, watching Bro and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"I could use one," Audrey said cutely, smiling.

"I'll get-oomph!" Bradley started to say when Audrey punched him in the ribs with her elbow, and he grabbed his side, grumbling.

"No, no. Eddy can get it for me, right?" She batted her eyelashes.

Befuddled but amused, Eddy nodded. "Sure. Be right back." He waded through the crowd, disappearing into the sea of bodies.

"What the h.e.l.l was that about?" Bradley insisted, growling.

Audrey didn't pay any attention to her boyfriend. Her eyes sharpened like knives as she directed them at Bro, who took an instinctive step back. "What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?"

"What do you mean?" He lifted his half-filled cup of beer. "Having a drink?"

Audrey slapped him on arm, hard enough to sting. "You stupid idiot. That guy's got the hots for you. He wants in your pants. Are you that blind?"

Rubbing his arm, Bro leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I know that, okay? I know. He told me. But I told him I'm with Lacey. He's fine with it. We agreed to us being just friends. That's all."

Audrey looked pained. "Oh my G.o.d. Guys are so stupid sometimes," she huffed out, brushing her forehead, obviously taking great pains to stay in control. "As he keeps shoving beer down your throat, how long do you think it's gonna take before he quietly escorts you upstairs to sleep it off and then...?"

"Jesus, Dree. You're being freakishly paranoid." Bro was doing his best to keep his own voice low and not shout at his friend. "Eddy's a nice guy. He wouldn't do anything like that."

Audrey grabbed his arm, but Bro shook it off, snarling. "Mark my words," she said. "He's gonna make a play for you tonight. You'll see." She had that mixed look of hurt and disappointment women sometimes got when they looked at a man.

That made Bro grit his teeth. He refused to believe his instincts about Eddy could be so wrong. "You're being ridiculous."

Audrey drew a sharp breath as if she had more to say, but then she huffed and shook her head. "Fine," she said and stomped off, cursing and steaming as she went.

Bro watched her go and couldn't avoid the nausea rising. He felt uncomfortable, and he didn't want to lose a friend over a quarrel. "No offense, man, but your girl's insane."

Bradley didn't say anything at first, not until Bro looked at him. Bradley was always the composed one, his deep voice serene. "I don't know. Eddy does give you the weirdest looks sometimes."

Bro blushed. "Look, Eddy may have the teeniest crush on me. But that's it. And you know I would never cheat on Lacey. I love her, man."

Bradley glanced at the half-empty cup in Bro's hand. "With enough booze-"

"I'm not gonna get wasted," Bro interjected defensively, a bit hurt. He couldn't fathom why his friends were ganging up on him. Didn't they trust his judgment or self-restraint?

Bradley shrugged and then downed his own single cup of beer in one, grimacing as he swallowed. "Eww, this s.h.i.t's warm." He studied Bro quietly for a moment. "Look, man. I don't doubt your love for Lacey. You've got it bad for her. But I see Eddy looking at you, and I can't help but see exactly what Dree sees. I don't think it's impossible to reason the guy tempted you here to make a move on you. Now, I'm not gonna claim you'll succ.u.mb. Just saying... watch your back."

Bro stared at his best friend. Only once had he ever seen Bradley lose his self-control, and that had been when Lacey's father had attacked Lacey and Audrey at their high school football field. Even now he was cool as cuc.u.mber. And Bro did trust him. Because of his placidity Bradley had an eye for people's true natures. Kind of like Audrey's living lie detector mode.

Hadn't Bro already had this talk with Eddy? What more was there to say? Did they have to sever their friendship entirely to ensure nothing happened between them? Because Bro did not want to start any s.h.i.t with Eddy. Sure, the guy was hot and into him.

But Bro wanted Lacey, and only Lacey.

"Hey, where's Audrey? I brought her drink." Eddy stepped to Bro's side, his confused gaze searching the ma.s.ses for Audrey.

Bro started to say, "She went to get some fresh air-"

At the exact same time as Bradley said, "She saw a friend and went to talk-"