Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

I placed the case on the ground and gave a quick glance to the audience. Jean-Pierre studied the case and then his gaze moved to my legs. My body hummed.

Breathe. Focus on Eros.

I calmed my nerves and lifted the violin out of the case on the floor.

Do your thing, Eros.

The violin was an odd contraption of magic. Hollowed wood and sheep intestines. Still, the sound came out lush and melodious. And Eros had harmonics like a flute—thin and sensual. The sort that incited visions of sex in my head as I played.

Shakespeare’s character Benedick observed in Much Ado About Nothing: “Is it not strange that sheep’s guts should bale souls out of men’s bodies?”

Never mind that. Shakespeare can’t pay your rent this month. Focus on Eros.

I straightened my back and shifted into position, raising the violin to me like I would embrace a lover. I used my right hand to draw the bow, making sure my arm was in the right angle. I’d tuned Eros before leaving my apartment. There was no time to waste in a room packed with people who had not come to hear me play, but to fuck.

Conversation and giggling continued. Clearing my throat, I placed the bow on the string. And although I shouldn’t have, I gazed off into the crowd. Everyone carried on doing what the brothel name suggested. Discovering the sweetness of pleasure. Talking. Eating. Drinking. No one focused on me, except…Jean-Pierre.

He watched me with an intense gaze.

Fuck.

My body warmed and shivered from his attention. It had been a minute since a sexy man had studied me. How odd that lust swam inside my core. It craved to burst from me. But pleasure had to wait for another day.

Ignore him.

I slid the bow across one of the strings, right near the bridge. The string vibrated with sound.

Everyone quieted around me.

Before playing a song, I loved to do a display of the instrument’s power and grab the audience’s attention. I started with the G string. It came out dark and sonorous. As always, it was a rough note, but expressive and full of soul. Next was the D string. It bellowed with full sound like the deep pitch of a human voice. Then I went to A more mellow than the D string, but nonetheless haunting. Last, I slipped the bow along E. It was my favorite of them all—lustrous and metallic, bright and full sounding.

The table of bachelors returned to their conversation, while the others gazed my way.

“Come on!” One of the rowdy guys rose and lowered his thumbs. “Is this the opera or a palace of pussy?!”

Aunt Celina had told me to play no matter what, so I ignored him.

Don’t worry, Eros. We’ll win him over.

Violins were the most well-known instrument. Musicians had been using the violin for thousands of years. I’d find some modern song to please the guy.

For now, let’s get a feel of the audience.

I went into Bizet’s, Gypsy Song. It was a tune that took the listener on a musical journey. We began in Spain where flirty flamenco dancers twirled and lured hungry men. It was fitting for a brothel. I’d found the song from a blog list called “Fifty Shades of Classical Music.” It broke down the sexiest violin songs to make love to.

Here we go.

The melody began fine. I knew it by heart like the others I’d planned to play, so I gazed around the audience searching for a reaction. My nerves flared, when I realized I had everyone’s attention. Especially, Jean-Pierre.

He watched me.

Warmth hit my body, delivering shivers along my skin.

Damn. He’s gorgeous.

I slipped the bow along Eros. The instrument moaned in harmony.

“Really?!” The rowdy guy rose from his table. “What’s this? And why does she have clothes on?”

A waitress hurried over and whispered something to him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he yelled back to her. “We’ve paid close to twenty thousand in this shit hole. I can’t pick the music in here?”

I didn’t miss a note, even though the guy was blowing my concentration.

The man’s voice rose higher.

I tuned him out.

Jean-Pierre leaned his head toward one of the men next to him and whispered something. I wondered what he said as I tried my best to concentrate on him, instead of the rowdy guy.

A few seconds later, the man next to Jean-Pierre rose. And he was a giant with ugly scars on his neck and a gun in his hand.

O-kay. What’s going on?

“This is bullshit!” The rowdy guy yelled from the back at the waitress. “Fuck her! Fuck you! And fuck that violin!”

Some of the guys at his table hurried to calm him down.

“No! Fuck that! My money is good! I want my respect!”

Dude, it’s not that serious. Have a beer and chill out.

However, the man that had been with Jean-Pierre stomped over to the rowdy guy. Everyone’s attention turned that way. I still didn’t stop playing, but I was beyond interested in what would happen next.