Chapter Text
When they had hired Druvis, they whispered, in voices laden with sighs and fatigue, “this is it.”
And she had known what they meant. She was neither an idiot nor too full of herself to assume this concerned her skill. What she was, though, was confident enough to know that her discipline in the field was worth the candidates they might’ve usually considered. But above all, she was a realist and a realist knew that no woman, let alone an immigrant with a training background in the classics, would be hired to play at Epoch Echelon, a club dead in the heart of Chicago, the melting pot of jazz and all.
Unless a woman was exactly what they needed.
And why they needed a woman all went back to Lilya.
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Rumors circulated about how exactly Epoch Echelon’s Back Room had to keep on replacing their pianist within weeks under the reins of their lead vocalist Lilya.
The first and most prevalent was cooked by the guys: Lilya broke the heart of any man behind the keys, a tale spread probably so that ‘taming’ the blondie sheba would catapult him way further up their ranks than bagging a pretty bird might typically do. And of course, these dandies were also the sort to bet and waste more money they couldn’t already make on who’d do the bagging. You’d call bull, but if you’re still here to judge you definitely don’t speak delusional loafs, so what else can you say?
Another rumor actually claimed the opposite: Lilya was the one doing the falling, and the upstanding gentlemen were forced to quit after every fit of the singer’s jealous rage, inevitable after far too many cups of hooch that got her through the nights. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine it was the gals who were on board with this one.
But Regulus had told her upon passing their interview that it had nothing whatsoever to do with gender and everything to do with how well the pianist could use their fingers. Not even in the dirty way – though that, too, was a rumor – but in the very stark meaning of how well they could actually put on a show. Lilya kept demanding new talents and the Back Room kept providing, but none of them had quite lived up to the sky-high standards of the acclaimed singer. Witch, one would call her. Bitch, said another.
Also according to Regulus, Lilya was something of a cocky, impatient brat. And Regulus was the sort of broad who would tell you that, word for word.
Still, Druvis had reckoned at least one of the two rumors should be likelier than the last.
Or rather, she hoped it was, since she could surely deal with either.
Because a hot shot like Lilya certainly wouldn’t be doing any messing with her heart, and a new, unremarkable face in such a landmark city like Druvis wouldn’t cause her to do any falling. But dealing with Regulus’s image of a diva… that was a whole other can of worms. And Druvis needed this job more than she tried not to care about.
💐🍷
Druvis was wrong.
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In fact, Druvis was wrong for more reasons than the mistletoes adorning her headpiece.
The most unfortunate was that Regulus had been pretty spot on about Lilya.
“I am here to sing and you are here to play. If you can’t manage that, our contract’s over. I care not how handsome you think you are, or how charming other ladies find you; if you can’t keep up with me, you’re useless. Should you make one joke about how skilled your fingers are outside of the piano, I can and will snap them. Also…”
Lilya sweeps into the room like a whirlwind; all sky-splitting winds and destruction in red flashes. Apparently no looking back, either, because she didn’t notice the sort of pianist her club had hired for her this round until Druvis cut in with a tone probably too firm for her first day.
“You won’t have to worry about that with me. None of it.”
And not like Lilya needed any more credit, but Druvis would hand it to her; when she did turn to stare the pianist down, her face cooled immediately along with her rant. Hardly even a blink for the woman sitting at the bench, fingers already on the keys.
“They hired a woman.” And that was pretty much it. Perhaps a head tilt, like it’d help in the appraisal of her new coworker in this dim of the lights, but other than that, nothing. “Fine, but you ain’t boutta think this means I’ll take it easy on you. Rules are rules: no flirting, no innuendos, no falling behind, and no crying.”
The remark was on Druvis’s tongue to ask what blunders Lilya had gotten the folks formerly in her place into that warranted the last warning, but she recalled what game she had signed up for and kept her head in it; for now preferring the silence that rang the length of its own tune. At least Lilya didn’t discriminate. That was something.
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Well, there were plenty of somethings involved in working with Lilya.
For Druvis, most of those included her patience being at stake.
“That’s not right!” A thick Russian accent gave its owner away before she could materialize.
Druvis groaned. It was a far more gentle expulsion of aggravation than most people who’ve spent hours practicing the same four sheets of music would’ve normally gone for. Fortunately, a childhood composure Druvis had nurtured to stand a chance against her iller tempered parents stuck all the way into adulthood. Her patience was at stake working with Lilya. But there were more things at stake if she couldn’t help herself to secure a place here, a refuge far away from her old life.
“And just what isn’t right about it?”
“It’s too…” Lilya’s foot tapped against the stage floor thrice, drawing Druvis’s attention up to the rather (un)pleasant sight of the singer (and her pursed lips). “You aren’t following what’s written on your sheets.”
“I saw its potential to sound good. Perhaps if we…”
The pursed lips dipped further down. “I already warned you – if you aren’t able to play what is so clearly in front of you, we’ll find us a replacement.”
“I can play it. The texture is just as dull as dishwater and the tempo is slower than fern unfurling. You don’t have to play these same old tunes, you know. One inspiration from this decade won’t spoil any setlist. You got a voice that could pull off – if not set – the new trends, too.”
No harm in flattering the singer a bit, Druvis mused. Especially when she didn’t have to lie in the process. Especially when Lilya brushed a hand over her mouth as if to hide the ghost of a smile.
“Look, I’m just sayin’…”
And there it went; one second the corners of her mouth seemed to twitch, the next they flattened out again. Druvis couldn’t figure how Lilya could’ve possibly found so much annoyance worth ten more years her age to bottle up. It felt almost like Druvis wasn’t the sole receiver of her frustration, but everything here; as if Lilya was already under house arrest in between their three – not even four, that’s the patrons – walls.
“I don’t pick my songs, Miss Weyerhauser. The higher up does. Now, if you don’t mind.”
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Point being: if Druvis had to play A Bird in a Gilded Cage another time, she would need more alcohol than Lilya to live through it.
💐🍷
The next practice featured no alcohol, but tonight Lilya was probably tipsier than recommended by 8PM and off playing hooky somewhere, so that, at least, gave the latter some one-on-one time with the ‘ol black-and-whites. Her piano back home was a dear, mind you – what it lacked in keys and pedals, it tried to make up by a petal and a half; but, of course, getting to play on a distinguished club’s budget was a big boon, even if Druvis often had to waste it on stuffs like A Bird in a Gilded Cage.
What was the harm in indulging herself a little?
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So said Dumb Dora before setting her career on fire.
She got two minutes in, before “What are you doing ?” – though Lilya’s almost conversational tone almost betrayed the venom her sentence could’ve spiked.
Druvis’s fingers paused on the keys. ‘Paused’ was the polite way of putting it, though, and the pianist liked to think she could typically keep her cool. But alright, perhaps it was more like her fingers jerked to a halt, twitching like ‘lil guppies gasping on their last breath. The toxin of A Bird in a Gilded Cage already in the air.
“Playing.”
“Playing,” Lilya echoed, totally enunciated and above all, snooty. “Playin’ what?”
“Just a little something I–”
“Never mind.” The cut came harsh and fast per everything Lilya, though less like an attempt to stop the thorny looks from sprawling across Druvis’s face and more like from Lilya’s own; intrigue too strong for their brief knowing-each-other, but questions too long for their time of the night together. “It matters not. Let us begin.”
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Druvis was gonna have to start sneaking in that bootleg juice. She was sure of it.
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Except that Lilya ran late again, a second day in a row.
It had stopped looking like an excuse on her part.
And started to look like a miracle on Druvis’s, that is.
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Well, maybe not.
Because five minutes later and Lilya still wasn’t there, but the eyes on Druvis’s back were.
Though if it meant avoiding songs from the 1800s for another five minutes, she wasn’t about to say anything.
💐🍷
She got those five. Plus two.
Then:
“What are you playing?” It was one verb up in Druvis’s favor.
“Just a little something I wrote.” And she also got to finish her sentence this time around.
So that was another something.
Something new.
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The fifth time Lilya was late, the novelty wore off.
“I know you’re listening. I’d rather you come in and crash my show already; the familiarity may just be politer than eavesdropping.”
Lilya wasn’t a woman to look ashamed, and she certainly didn’t look so when she walked in, but even a people skill as poor as Druvis’s could still tell she looked a tad put out, if nothing else.
“What were you playing?” She repeated.
“Just a little something I wrote.”
Druvis got a huff in reply, but if it were the usual bite Lilya aimed for, her precision seen on the dailies didn’t carry over. And the shift in tone would’ve startled her, if it weren’t satisfying.
“Are you ever gonna say anything else?”
“Not until you ask any other question.”
The way Lilya’s mouth snapped shut at that was pretty satisfying, too. If Druvis were to be fired over this, at least she could ‘count’ that towards her goal of making a new name for herself.
Fortunately, it didn’t look like Druvis was getting thrown out. Not today, at least.
“Play it again for me.” She took a long swig from her canteen as if any pint of sobriety left would leave room for doubts. “Anything to shatter the boredom.”
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And in a future Druvis swore to work toward, she would look back on that very first change of Lilya’s heart and declare them The Start.
But on the night of November 1926 that didn’t want to end and neither did it want anything else to start – they were just A start.
💐🍷
“Lilya, I also wrote some words.”
A week later and the ten minutes of every practice had become, without any official ceremony, freestyle time, wherein Druvis was allowed to play whatever should strike her fancy, while Lilya listened. In return, Druvis reckoned it was only fair that she not heave too heavy a sigh when she had to switch over to songs written by people who were now a bunch of dirt and bones and gunk.
But enough was enough. Lilya was talented beyond measure, but from the way she performed, she might as well be a robot – acting in line now, but who’d know when enough is enough and she snapped? And Druvis had seen R.U.R. in the theater a few months ago, she would know.
“Congrats, Ms. Weyerhauser. You’re literate.”
Alright, so perhaps she wouldn’t know. Apparently, Lilya was capable of A different smirk away from her usual taunting ones that Druvis might’ve labeled teasing. Testing the currents (not like the singer herself ever needed or was patient enough for any cue, so Druvis might as well go along with the headwind.) And since Lilya could if not already prime to take off with their scheme, yes, Druvis could take it.
“Words for a song, I mean.”
Her fingers moved on the keys into position, with caution, ghosting over a few bars as she watched Lilya for any further hint of interest. (Unlike her, Druvis could be patient – could play the long game, soak up the length of her own song.)
She didn’t have to hold her breath for long. There they were, right away; a head tilt, and it pleased Druvis to know she was the cause of fondness behind the same old gesture, no longer weighed down by so much disdain. And, as Lilya stepped down from the stage and came to a rest directly in front of the piano, came a simple question:
“Will you sing it for me?”
Not even a masked command; and so it was expected among all the unexpected and exactly what Druvis had been waiting for. However heavy Lilya’s intent gaze might’ve felt, pressing the pianist’s fingers down onto the keys, she made it up with a fond smile – and, if it weren’t already reassuring enough, “На второй взгляд, will you sing it with me?”, she offered.
All that was left for Druvis was to take a deep breath. And sing.
💐🍷
There were plenty of somethings involved in working with Lilya.
Druvis was aware, but not until that morning when Lilya strode into the bar with a smile brighter than the strobelights on stage that she witnessed their culmination – and Lilya was just everything. Everywhere.
“I spoke with Vertin!”
The blink she received clearly was too underwhelming for what she had expected, so Druvis got an eye roll in return.
“Vertin, the Timekeeper. It’s a nickname, she is actually in charge of setlist rotations and menu schedules and all that good stuff. To phrase it in your language, I spoke with my immediate supervisor about us playing your song.”
There were plenty of somethings involved in working with Lilya and yet there were still way too many new things her sentence entails that it took Druvis a couple seconds to process. The fact that Lilya, lead singer extraordinaire, had gone to the trouble. The ‘us’. The ‘your’.
And her smile.
The smile that had been replacing her default taunting smirk more and more with every day. Still, it too was melting with more eye rolling.
“Oh, Nothing? Not even a ‘thank you’?”
“No, I…”
The smile was fast on her face again, which gave Lilya away that it had had no real intention to leave.
“Lilya, that is…thank you.”
The stuttering was probably uncalled for on Druvis’s part who could otherwise come up with more words to say what she wanted to say, and as Lilya’s eyebrows rose higher than the notes she could crack, so too did a wave of something akin to fluster within Druvis’s throat. But the million watt smile didn’t lie to anyone when it didn’t go anywhere, and the warmth pushed back the panic as quickly as it had surfaced in the first place.
“You’re welcome.” There was a pause and…something. A look. One that was maybe significant. One that required effort – as if Lilya were up high, off elsewhere, unfamiliar with the ways, the terrains, squinting to take Druvis all in, nail her reaction down in a second or two before it passed her by. “...Druvis.”
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Hearing Lilya soloing her song was…something, too. Another kind of something.
Druvis was running out of words to describe Lilya, which was ironic, given she just wrote all that lyrics and because at first, she would’ve been able to frame the singer in just the one. But Lilya giving her song the one shot on the one night – voice reaching into the notes Druvis had scrawled onto a blank staff and might as well reach to pluck at her heartstrings, too – that went beyond the limits of her vocabulary. Not like Lilya had ever respected limits, true that.
But when the Back Room’s door slammed open to a girl whose serious frown demanded even more attention than her brilliantly orange hair, well, Druvis had a word for that. Too bad it was drowned out by said girl’s panic mounting within five seconds of intruding on the usual lull of the place after a show.
“Lilya! What is–this is–what’s been happening here?”
Another significant look from Lilya kept Druvis from responding with the obvious, but only just. She knew Lilya wasn’t big on people slowing her down, and that included interrupting their rehearsal (she’d once actually used the word ‘discharged’ to refer to a barkeep who had dropped a glass during warm-up scales), let alone barging in like an unkempt storm late into the night.
So when Lilya stepped off stage with more courtesy than she’d otherwise spare (with all due respect, since she had none – a woman to assume her position must’ve had been lectured on the meaning of the word since day one), Druvis might’ve grinned – looking forward to Lilya’s display and whatnot, now that she wasn’t the receiving end of her sass anymore.
Except. Except.
“Sonetto,” Lilya began, uncharacteristically calm, “Fancy seeing you here.”
That definitely wasn’t the phrase Druvis would’ve used, but what did she know? For starters, she knew she’d had her fair share of exchanging courtesies in life to recognize if someone else was simply doing it for show. Well, not like Lilya often stopped – in every sense of the word – but right now, she seemed to really have slipped off her stage presence; no muscles in her jaw to bite, no bones in her limbs to fight. And, Druvis was fast taken by surprise, whose intrigue over the ginger stranger was mounting by the second.
“Lilya, what is this I’m hearing about a set change?”
“Oh, yes! Isn’t it wonderful? Your partner said we can give the crowd a bit of surprise! Okay, I did propose it, but don’t you see? The vision.”
It was strange, seeing this genuinely enthused, not snarky, side of Lilya. Druvis wasn’t sure about a lot of things regarding the singer these days, but she could have this one, and it was a far cry from the woman who had uttered no more than ten different words during their first several sessions together.
Then again, Druvis, too, was a far cry from everything Lilya was: whether or not her theatrics were throwing shots at charm and ease and warmth, there still existed the flow of her hair more unpredictable than her own patience and too ‘radical’ eyeliner, in shorts and boots and an oversized, rolled up oxford… Druvis, on the other hand, all perfectly bleached hair and perfectly pressed dress and perfectly tilted hat and perfectly angled headpiece.
It was one of those fun reminders that Lilya was somehow very far away, very far off from the world people their profession typically lived in.
But also a reminder that Lilya – who was now explaining to this ‘Sonetto’ how Vertin had given her the green light to spice things up with a newly rekindled fire in her voice, and not otherwise from alcohol – deserved to keep it up, too, if her potential had any say in their career. And Druvis was determined to stand up for a cause, as she had learnt it the hard way to stand up for her own tomorrow.
Even if it’d taken them a while to bring Lilya back here. And it’d take another while to get there.
Not that they were really anywhere, apparently.
“I thought we went over this, Lilya.” Because Sonetto’s frown had etched deeper into a face laden with concerns. Not like she was out for Lilya, more like she wanted to be in for their careers.
“Hey, but–”
“Lilya.” But this time Sonetto came out less of an accusation, more like resignation. “The Timekeeper was notorious for her rebel streaks in her early days, too, but I’ve been around for just as long to know. These songs make people happy. We give the public what they want. In turn, we give the management what they want. That is our job. They, the people, are here to sing along with the songs you know and they, the higher ups, are there to know the songs you sing.”
“I hear you well, but she’s better than songs,” came the interjection.
And it took Druvis a second to register that the interjection had actually come from her.
That, and she hadn’t realized just how committed she’d felt about it until the conviction left her mouth in the shape of her will.
Because sure. She was still talking.
“She’s gifted far above the range of those songs. They’re holding her back. If you can’t trust me on any but one thing, trust me on this – I know what being held back feels like. I didn’t believe I could have a life outside of business – the roots my step-father has laid – until I did. The faster his lumber stocks rose, the louder his pitches became, and it silenced my music.” She took a deep breath, and felt it lift her off the piano bench, upright like her most beloved forest. “What I did, branching out here, a continent away, was the equivalence of tossing our genogram back home into the fire. But, I could only do it, because it was my life, never theirs. And, I could only manage it with hope, with talents like Lilya to make my humble pursuit worthwhile. All fires burn once out of hand; but a drive, the very essence of us creatives, had to be fueled somewhere.”
So her speech (was) delivered, sowing the first seed of doubts onto Sonetto’s face in the form of ever more complicated, but at least, neutral, expression and its ensuing silence. Okay, it might’ve worked too well, as Lilya’s mouth also clamped shut in her defense. Sonetto didn’t look away from Druvis, not after a moment both too long for the pianist’s sudden bout of courage not to wane and too short for Sonetto’s mind to change. Because as she turned away to sigh at their very dear lead vocalist, “This seems to me a mistake, Lilya. I’d love to be wrong, but I do wish to act in our club’s best interest just as much as you,” –
It was clear she wasn’t just talking about performing a new song.
💐🍷
“So,” Druvis began, a while after Sonetto walked out and the air between them could finally release the breath it was holding. “Who is Ms. Worrywart?”
Lilya snorted.
It sounded off like relief, or maybe that was Druvis projecting. Not that she was afraid of Sonetto, but she was glad the mirth could make its way back into Lilya’s eyes in her absence, anyway. Like a pebble tossed on a deep blue pond, its ripples easy and contagious.
“It’s just Sonetto, she’s Vertin’s partner. Not just in the club’s menial chores, but like, partner partner. We’re plenty close ourselves; she started out helping me rein in my manners.”
“Oh,” Druvis was dumbfounded at the revelation, and a tad scandalized. She was curious as to how a rogue like Lilya could settle her differences with such a modest Sonetto, but moreso about – let’s not deny it – how her supervisors could be so open about their relationship, given that they’re both women. Particularly when Lilya also seemed unbothered, if not even intrigued from the funny phrasing at the mention of the pair.
Though, “Huh? No wonder you started out a straight arrow, you’re following in Sonetto’s footsteps,” Druvis just chose to deflect it with dry humor. The AMs couldn’t handle this sort of complications.
“Miss Weyerhauser!” An aghast look was quick on Lilya’s face, but so was her wit. “I may be an arrow with how precisely I’m hitting all my notes, but jury’s still out on the straight part. Actually, jury’s still out on lots of things in my life.”
“Well, from what I’ve seen –,” Druvis raised an eyebrow at the remark; fuck too late for complications, she would exploit anything for conversation unless Lilya could hear the gears turning in her head, “I don’t know. It’s like…there are multiple of you’s trapped in a single body. Lilya: the songbird. Then there’s Epoch Echelon’s project: Lilya. And…there’s just the you who sings. When you sing what you want. That’s someone else, too. I just – I want to hear her more often.”
Silence followed – aw, shucks, they were just able to relax as soon as Sonetto left, and Druvis just had to go ruin it for them – until, until…
“I… I wanted to be an opera singer,” Lilya confessed.
“When I was a child, I mean. Alright, I got a big head, and I’d wanted to shoot for the sky. My parents also saw the talent in me. Counseled me in the art and brought me the finest tutors in Moscow. I was well on my way to make it big by the time I turned eighteen. Except, I was sent here first for experiences and to be introduced to the city that should make me its star.”
There was a halt in the story, a breath put on hold, a smile in place of words. Druvis couldn’t determine the cause for it, but she could admit to her curiosity.
“So… What changed?”
“I fell in love.” Lilya smirked at Druvis’s shock, just shy of laughter. “Don’t pull such a face! It wasn’t with a person. It was with…this.”
Lilya made a sweeping gesture, which Druvis’s eyes followed, but the meaning was lost on her mind. It was a speakeasy. A nicer one, sure, but it was just a club. One that was just as likely as any other to be shut down at any moment, during these times.
Druvis viewed it for what it was – a job first, and a stepping stone second. She shrugged, and it prompted Lilya to continue her train of thought.
“With the City, I mean. The real world. I fell in love with the lights and the smoke and the wine and the life. Would I change my mind back someday? Probably. But now, I want to be part of this.”
That wasn’t what Druvis had been expecting.
“You could say I was lucky. I met Sonetto at one of my early lowkey street performances. She was impressed, and I found out she was involved with Vertin, whose guardians ran this place, and were looking for a new act. When she heard I was thinking of perhaps diving into new avenues, she invited me to Vertin’s audition.”
Apparently, Druvis wasn’t sure what she had expected at all, but this wasn’t it. There had to be a catch.
“You see, I owe the pair a great deal. They were my conduit to this life. It’s…freer than I ever imagined it would be, and it sates my guilty pleasure of vodka as opposed to signing with a theater. But, if you had asked –” Lilya smiled again, somewhat crookedly. “You must’ve noticed. It came with new restrictions. Not unfair ones, but – well. There’s always a role to play. Not Lilya: the Big Cheese who can do whatever she wants whenever.”
Her last few words (her smile) were sobering. It occurred to Druvis that perhaps she couldn’t figure out Lilya because Lilya herself didn’t know who she was, or who she was allowed to be. So, for the second time in the span of half an hour, a surge of determination welled up in her. For a woman so golden it’s like the world owes her just for living. And she’d likely have it, if only she reached for it.
“Not for me.” Druvis reached for her ale they indulged in after a show, looking out of the window to a light drizzle that drummed its own tune on the glass. “I know you haven’t quite figured this life out, but I feel like I’ve known you in another as I listened to you. Where you don’t grovel for anyone’s heart, but that doesn’t make your admirers any less.” She paused. “Is it strange? Like the rain this time of the year? What I’m saying is – you don’t have to play any role for me.”
When she dared to steal a look back at Lilya, Lilya’s gaze was already on her, and it made her swallow the gulp of liquor in her mouth, hard.
“It sure is, but what stranger is…I also believe you. When I look at you – when I watched you stand up for me earlier – I’ve also seen a woman who was fiercer in what she wants than you let on in the same few songs and fewer words. Maybe, just maybe, I don’t need another life, we can will this one to our image together.” The singer punctuated her sentence with sips from own glass of vodka, and gestured for a toast, “Or, we’re just wasted, and you’re stirring me up. We may as well be discussing if the rain outdoors could fall from the ground up. Cheers?”
Druvis complied, clinking their glasses together, and the look she received after Lilya finished her drink was another…something. Gentle and generous and grateful. And that kind of look, on a woman like Lilya… it could do numbers on a person. Especially when accompanied by words just above a whisper that Druvis had to lean forward to catch them.
“Спасибо – I mean, thank you, Druvis.”
Again there was her name on Lilya’s lips, too.
She had to swallow.
Again.
💐🍷
“So…we are still playing it tonight? The Saturday night?”
Lilya looked up, her expression almost amused. “Your song? Yes. Did you think something had changed since yesterday?”
“Uh…I don’t know,” Druvis shrugged, “I was thinking –”
“Oh, you shouldn’t do that. I never do that and I’m winging just fine.”
“I was thinking,” she continued with an eye roll, “That – see – you could get in trouble for this. So could I, right? And, since – you know – you told me your history yesterday, I was just thinking –”
“It’ll be fine, Druvis.” But Lilya did look a bit appreciative. Surprised, actually. “You do think your composition is good, don’t you?”
“I believe so?”
“Plus, I am the woman to sing it?”
“Fine, absolutely.” And Druvis meant it, even if her eyes dipped down to the keys her fingers automatically spread on to avoid eye contact.
“Then, there you are. I don’t think there’s anything further to muse over. We’ll play your song on tonight’s grand show. Which will be a resounding success.”
Lilya had stepped off the stage by this point, coming to rest her forearms on the top of piano, posture sparing the pianist no other chance to look away. And Druvis hadn’t realized just how intently the singer was staring at her until she glanced up to agree. A breath caught in her throat.
It was times like that – times where something in Druvis’s chest fluttered like grass in the wind – each moment no different than the one prior, until you turn around and find them already sprouting into a sea of green. Times where everything eased in Lilya’s eyes like the sky after rain, the perfect weather to take off to new heights, but where exactly, Druvis wasn’t sure.
But that was always how it had been with Lilya, wasn’t it? From their first day of rehearsal, there had already existed something undefined, or at the very least, masked; a gravity center that, despite her gown and heels, Druvis just wanted to dive in headfirst and discover.
“Well, now!” She replied, opting for enthusiasm. “We’re going to be great, right? Want to go through everything once more?”
Lilya leaned back, pushing herself off the piano and inhaling a breath in thought.
“No.”
“No?”
But Druvis couldn’t feel too displeased by the outcome, when the outcome was Lilya letting out a laugh. “Play me something instead.”
“What kind of something?” She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been asking the same question for anything else Lilya all along. She then plucked at the keys, eyes searching Lilya’s for some sort of explanation to the sudden glint she found there.
“Whatever kind of something you’d fancy.” Lilya paused, taking a stride around the piano. “The kind of something that will make me fall in love with this all over again. Care to give me that?” And Druvis couldn’t help but wonder if that was Lilya’s answer, but not to the question at hand.
She felt the air vacating from her lungs.
Lilya’s eyes were so bright it was a fire, drawing her oxygen away.
“That’s – that’s a tall order, Ms. Lilya.”
“Oh, not really.” She commented while uncapping her canteen.
She wasn’t sure how Lilya could sound so casual, let alone taking a swig of alcohol that’d make her even less serious. Not when she was giving Druvis that look.
“That’s rather how your music always makes me feel.”
There wasn’t really any proper response to that.
So Druvis relinquished and tickled the ivories, letting her piano do the talking instead.
Lilya swayed alongside it and closed her eyes and Druvis could only play.
And played.
And apparently, that was something.
That something.
💐🍷
“Oh, you can’t be nervous.”
The voice came from behind her, but Druvis didn’t have to turn away from applying her makeup to identify its owner, seemingly a constant over the past few months.
“Is that so mind-boggling?”
She did turn then, only to be greeted by the trademarked crooked smile.
“It is, actually. I thought surely a woman who dared to write songs and played them during her first week hire couldn’t have the skills to match.”
The backstage was quiet. Outside, though, the bustling of the crowd on a weekend night was drumming against Druvis’s ears, a steady murmur that made her a bit claustrophobic under her suddenly too tight choker.
“I am socially anxious, Lilya… But now?”
Druvis had only taken her eyes off of Lilya for a second, attention paid briefly on the sounds from the other side of the door. But when she turned around to face the singer, she was closer. A lot closer. It didn’t help with the creeping tightness in her throat.
“Now that confidence simply seems… an acknowledgement of obvious talent.”
The compliment was out of nowhere, but perhaps exactly what Druvis needed.
“Oh, –”
Not that she knew how to respond to it.
“– Thanks,” she finished unsatisfactorily.
“You have no reason to be nervous. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
There was that chuckle again and was Lilya even closer now? Druvis was suddenly aware of the wall at her back. Of the narrowness of the hallway. Of the likelihood of someone opening the door before them at any moment. (Not that she knew why that last one would matter, still…)
The air was warm and her head felt light (from catching the whiff of alcohol from Lilya’s breath? she wouldn’t know) and words were hard. Besides, Lilya was already moving on, shaking her head and flashing Druvis a smile that didn’t help her current predicament.
“You’re ready for this, Druvis. Trust me.”
“I do.”
Words were hard, but those two, at least, came easy.
Fast and ready, like they’d been waiting on her tongue for quite some time now.
“Let’s go put on a show!”
Druvis nodded, hand reaching for the doorknob, but as she started to turn, she felt a tug on her free wrist – a soft whispered wait – and then she turned around and Lilya was impossibly closer (close enough to breathe in but too close to see) and there was the brush of something warm over her lips and it took a moment – of those moments, again – a moment where Lilya pulled back and grinned at her – for Druvis to realize that the something warm had been Lilya’s lips.
“For luck,” Lilya exclaimed, throwing in a wink as though what had transpired had been nothing, nothing at all.
As though Druvis’s system wasn’t in an overdrive processing the whole thing.
As though she couldn’t still taste a hint of zubrowka unfamiliar on her lips.
(But should. Or could. Or… it wasn’t unwelcomed, certainly. Which was – was she still thinking right now? Lilya was right, she shouldn’t ever do that, again.)
Druvis blinked.
“Uh, luck. Good luck.”
But Lilya was already gone – brushing past Druvis to enter the joint – cheers flooding Druvis’s ears, even after the door swung shut. And Druvis was left in the hallway, trying to piece together the most eventful few seconds of her life.
Had Lilya thought that would help?
Had she thought that would calm her nerves?
Had she thought Druvis would be able to play even two notes after that?
(Had Lilya ever thought of anything at all like she said?)
She blinked again.
Perhaps that did it – hit some kind of reset button – because then she was pushing the door open and walking to the piano and her hands were finding the keys and her eyes were finding Lilya’s own and she was somehow playing, but –
Good god.
💐🍷
And Druvis had thought a hot shot like Lilya wouldn’t be doing any messing with her heart.
Funny, that.