Chapter 3 Rosalie’s New Groupie

Julius

The breeze through the open windows surrounding the grand ballroom flows through Rosalie’s hair and cape? as she walks passed the symphony players. They stand in acknowledgement and respect as she passes and nods to them. I’ve been to the symphony enough to know my mother has made a grave mistake in assuming she is an amateur. The organ player/conductor is on his feet to meet her and bows to kiss her hand while looking a little to deeply into her eyes. He’s a young tall man with his dark hair pulled back in a man bun. I hate him.

“Why doesn’t she date him? He’s obviously in love with her.” Becca chimes in and the blonde with the purple lipstick named Violet shakes her head while drinking her champagne. I think she arrived with Rosalie.

“Are you kidding me? She would chew him up and spit him out. She needs a manly man.” One of the twins says and I couldn’t agree more but I’m to busy staring at the wonder on stage to acknowledge that fact.

She takes her seat. Long legs wrapped around her cello. Displaying a gold chain around her thigh. Her bare feet arched as though she were on her tip toes. Flawlessness and power radiating from her. She lifts her bow in a command for the players to begin. She tilts her head back and slowly shuts her eyes.

“It’s begins” her proud father tell us.

They start the intro to the phantom of the opera. With her eyes still closed she feels for her strings and positions her bow at the ready.  When the bow makes contact with her strings everyone is on edge gripping their seats. To my total astonishment she opens her eyes and looks directly into mine as she plays the haunting melody. The music was beautiful before, but now it’s on a whole new level.

“Amazing” Ben says with his arms wrapped around a smiling Becca.

“Yeah but why is she staring at your brother Ben?” The twin Christopher states but I don’t care to say anything. My eyes are staring into hers and no fucking way am I breaking eye contact.

Watching her steady breathing, her pouty red slips parting slightly, the rise and fall of her breast. Lord I’m as bad as a teenager at a Justin Bieber concert. Mesmerized by my brothers soon to be sister in law. This doesn’t happen to me. I’m the one with the fan club not the other way around. I haven’t had to pick up a girl since.... forever it seems. Now I’m acting like a crazed groupie. I’ve got to pull my shit together.

She breaks our eye contact and finishes her part as the music builds. She slowly raises her bow, I’m feeling a solo must be coming. She looks up waiting for the moment, bow still in the air.

“Chaos” her father says knowingly.

As if on cue with nature, she reaches low on her cello and extends a painful note with her bow as a strong gust of wind blows out the candles on the table and her cape and hair flow all around her. The crowd gasps. Though I don’t recall hearing a solo on this song, it is pure, angry, haunting, and powerful. I can’t say I’ve ever in all our years of going to the symphony with our father heard anyone play like this. She is an original. She is the phantom of the opera. A masterpiece. I sound so fucking cheesy.

She goes two rounds back into the original melody and ends. Everyone is on their feet applauding with hoots and hollers from our table. She stands and bows then holds her arms out acknowledging the other players. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My heart pounding in my chest. Feeling light headed and breathless. Contemplating whether I need a doctor. I’m fucked.