Page 10

Together we will live, and we will die together.

Julie finished the accompaniment with a grand flourish. Trent’s eyes were locked on Oscar’s. Neither had moved since they’d ended their final notes. Trent couldn’t deny that this duet brought out something magical in both of their voices, Trent’s agile baritone blending with Oscar’s big but lyrical tenor.

No one in the room spoke, as if they didn’t want to break the spell the music had cast. Ultimately, though, Anthony’s voice cut through.

“This is going to be quite something.”

Trent wrenched his gaze away from Oscar, and his common sense reengaged. He remembered where he was. And that Oscar was an annoying jackass.

“That being said, you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Anthony continued. “There are some phrasing issues, and we need to work the whole recitative. Verdi was drifting intoverismohere. There’s a lot to talk about stylistically.”

Trent nodded, not saying anything. Anthony’s eyes went to the clock on the wall, a cheap standard-issue black-and-white plastic timepiece.

“I’m going to wrap up early and give you two a few minutes to figure out some things. Discuss the song. The characterrelationship. Find some times to meet and sing through it together.”

Oscar nodded tentatively. He looked confused. Hell, Trent was confused too. It wasn’t usual for Anthony to end a lesson early.

Anthony slipped out the door, leaving Trent and Oscar standing in Anthony’s studio. This was weird. Trent didn’t look at Oscar. Instead, he scanned the sheet music of the aria they’d just sung, scribbling notes in the margins. Anything to avoid having some kind of conversation with the trust fund baby.

“Okay, you two, that’s enough.”

Shit. Trent had forgotten that Julie was still there. And she was pissed.

“What?” Trent widened his eyes naively. He hoped it was convincing.

“Stop that.” Julie crossed her arms and leaned over the keyboard of the grand piano. “You have to work together, so start talking.”

Oscar sighed, pulling out a red notebook with gold lettering on the front. It was a planner. Who the hell uses a paper planner? No wonder he was so late.

“What time this week are you able to rehearse?” Oscar asked.

Trent grabbed his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his calendar. “Friday afternoon is free right now.”

“Fine. Let’s do Friday at one.”

“That’ll work,” Trent said, putting the event in his calendar and popping the phone back in his pocket. “Assuming you can get there on time.”

“Trent—” Julie started from the piano, but Oscar cut her off.

“No, no, let the man speak. He clearly has something to say.” Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Trent.

“Some of us care about being rude.”

“Are you kidding?” Oscar turned to Julie. “Is he kidding? I’m supposed to account for my tardiness to Mr. GoFundMe over there?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Trent’s jaw clenched in anger, but more than that, he was confused.

“You want to tell him?” Oscar smirked, leaning against the side of the piano.

Julie froze.

“Jules.” Trent’s voice dropped down into a low, even tone. “Tell me what he meant.”

“It’s just…” Julie paused for a moment, then launched in. “It’s something that some of the guys called you. They’re assholes, you know, the two other straight guys, Seth and Garrett. It’s just that once they said it, it kind of, well, stuck.”

“Tell me.” Trent gripped his pencil in his hand like a vise.

“They, um, they call you GoFundMe because they said that you would need to start crowdfunding to pay for your surgery.”