“So,” he said, somewhat aggressively this time, “von Ritter?”
“I haven’t worked with him myself,” said Vanessa, “but I have a friend in San Diego Philharmonic who has. Apparently, he has a nickname there. Herr Trigger.”
“Herr Trigger?” Ben snorted. “He’s got a bit of a temper then?”
“So I gather,” said Vanessa.
“That’s interesting,” said Milan, finishing the rest of his drink.
“Why?” Lydia felt a flutter of anxiety cross her heart.
“No reason. Anybody want another drink?”
“Milan…”
“Oh, relax. It’s the last time!”
Tactfully, making it look natural, the rest of the group found reasons why they couldn’t stay for another drink.
/> Lydia was so grateful to them it nearly brought tears to her eyes, especially when Vanessa bent to kiss her cheek and whispered, “You aren’t responsible for him, darling. Call me if you need to.”
Lydia watched her leave, wondering again whether there was something going on between Vanessa and Ben. No. Surely she’d have mentioned it.
“We could go home,” she said to Milan. “You’ll need to be up early tomorrow—so much practicing to fit in!”
“This is true.” He looked, with mild regret, at his empty brandy glass, then picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “And I have champagne in the fridge.”
Lydia scampered after him, wanting to remonstrate, but, before she could speak, Milan had collided with a glamorous blonde woman in the doorway, causing her to spill the bottle of slimline tonic she was carrying.
“Shit, forgive me… Sarah, right?” said Milan. “Let me get you another.”
“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry,” said the harpist, smiling in a way that caused Lydia’s hackles to rise. “I don’t like too much tonic in my gin anyway.”
He twitched his lips. Lydia knew what that meant. I know you fancy me and I’m going to play up to it.
“You’re sure?”
“Quite sure. And congratulations, by the way. You so deserve a shot at a solo career.”
“Thank you.”
Lydia cleared her throat.
“I’ll see you at rehearsal,” he said, moving on again.
Lydia tried to say nothing about it, steeling her resolve not to snipe and make digs like a bitter, jealous person would.
“She is a good player,” said Milan. “You are not friends?”
“We haven’t really spoken.”
“Why don’t you talk to her? She is new. You could be friends.”
Lydia took a breath and stopped the words that sprang into her head from reaching her throat. If you think you can get me to agree to a ménage setup with her, think again.
“You can’t force it,” she said neutrally.
“I guess.”