~Declan.

As I made my way to the office for the musician's guild that afternoon, I enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the breeze coming from the sea. Silverport was a lovely town full of opportunities and wonderful people. I'd only been there for just about a month, but I could already draw that conclusion with certainty.

I shifted my weighty saxophone case to my other hand as I waited at a crosswalk. I'd called the office before heading out, and they'd told me to bring my instrument along for an audition of sorts. As long as they didn't call for me to play something overly technical, and as long as I didn't happen to pull out a squeaky reed, I thought I had a good chance of getting accepted into the guild.

Though most people I passed on the sidewalk gave me pleasant smiles and dipped their heads in acknowledgement, I couldn't help but notice those who differed. A few wearing fancy clothes and expensive jewelry eyed me with disdain, as if I didn't deserve to walk the same streets as they did. After all, I was a Candorian man in Lymar country, and my people had lost the recent war. And my people had been the instigators, so I could understand to some extent, but not all Candorians were responsible for what had happened.

At any rate, I finally found myself before the handsome double doors to the musician guild's office. I took in a deep breath, straightened the collar of my polo shirt, and pushed my way in with my elbow.

The balding man at the front desk craned his neck forward when I entered, and a smile pulled at his lips. He adjusted his comically small glasses to sit farther back on his large nose and cleared his throat.

"Good afternoon, sir, what can I do for you?" the man asked kindly.

I set my saxophone case down and blinked. "I'm interested in joining the guild."

"Is that so? You're a striking young man; I can see you doing just fine as a freelancer."

"I tried that, sir." I said with a nervous laugh, "Yeah ... I need help building roots in this town."

"Well, then the guild is at your service." the man replied while gathering a few scattered papers on his desk. He stacked them together neatly and handed them to me with a pen while pointing leftward to a warmly lit lounge area I hadn't noticed before. "Fill out as much as you can of that application, and then hand it back to me. Don't worry if you can't answer everything; I can't remember the last time somebody could."

I smiled. "Alright, thank you, sir."

So I settled down on an armchair in the vacant lounge room and worked away at filling out the empty spaces in the application I could. Obviously, the basic information such as my name, address, telephone number, instrument, and so on was easy to put down. Where I found myself beginning to get nervous was when questions began to be asked about references, and about my past work history.

I considered mentioning the fact I'd played in Nuri Justice's band for a short time, but that fact carried as much negativity as it added in my favor. There was no telling if the guild would take greater notice of the fact he'd noticed me, or the fact he'd fired me. After some consideration, I opted not to say anything of my past and simply let my present skills speak for themselves, for better or worse.

After I finished filling out what I could, I headed back over and handed the papers to the kind man at the front desk. He peered at the information over his tiny glasses and nodded vigorously the whole time. Then he smiled, rose to his full height, and ushered me to a back room where he explained auditions were held.

The man left me in a waiting area with five other men who held various instruments in their hands and quietly warmed up. Three of them practiced dazzling trumpet lines that wove through the whole ranges of their horns, while another quietly strummed a guitar. The last acknowledged me with a pleasant nod as he adjusted the strap around his neck. He also played saxophone, but his was the smaller alto.

With a shrug, I set my case down and opened it to reveal my tenor. The handsome horn had its scratches, especially on the tubing leading up to the bell, and even a minor dent, but it'd served me well for all the years I'd had it. My family had never been well to do, but they'd saved to get me not just any saxophone, but the best they could find. That was just the sort of folks they were—didn't have much to give, but when they did, they gave the best.

I carefully put the horn together, placed a reed on the mouthpiece, and clamped it down. Though the others paid me no mind, I couldn't help but notice the alto saxophonist stared intently my way, no doubt waiting to hear what sort of tone came out the bell of my horn. I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and blew.

Nothing but a brief quack came out. I sighed and readjusted the reed before trying again. This time, I got the tone I wanted, a pretty full low D to which I added vibrato for color. A brief glance in the alto player's direction, and I saw a surprised smirk on his lips.

After that, I just played some slow warmup phrases with long tones and melodic sequences. I could've sworn the guitarist shifted his tune to accompany me, but he strummed too quietly for me to be sure.

Finally, a door opened in the back of the waiting room, and a fuming clarinetist stomped out. Behind him was a robust man with a thick beard and graying hair. I knew I was only assuming, but he sure looked like a bass player. He eyed one of the trumpeters and beckoned him forward.

"I see you're back again, Benjamin." he said in a deep voice fitting his size.

"I'm never gonna give up." the trumpeter said with conviction. "I want in."

The big man sighed deeply while smoothing his beard with his hand. "Let's see what you've learned in three weeks."

With that, the two of them disappeared into the back room, and I shortly heard shrill, sour tones peaking at high notes only the most skilled trumpeters could play and make them sound good. Even when he played lower, his fingering sounded faulty. Sure, he could articulate fast and get the general outline of a phrase, but he played many notes out of order. I'd be a hypocrite to critique someone's technique, given my own struggles, but at least I wasn't trying to show off goods I didn't have.

It wasn't all that long before the door opened, and the trumpeter exited with his head held high. He looked back at the big man with a confident smile. "I'll be back, you know. I want in."

"I know you will be. Keep practicing, young man." He glanced over the rest of us sitting around before singling me out and beckoning me over.

My heart raced as I rose up and headed toward the back room. It took conscious effort to keep my breaths deep and relaxed as they'd need to be for a good tenor sound. When the door clicked shut behind us, I prepared myself for whatever was ahead.

"Alright, young man, what's your name?" the bearded man asked.

"Declan, sir. Declan Otto."

"From Candor?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"What brings you here, then?'

I stammered for a moment, not expecting the audition to involve more than simply my playing. "Job opportunities, I guess. Nobody has extra money back home to be able to pay for concerts."

"Well, that's understandable. Let me hear a low C."

I readily obliged, setting my fingers in place and blowing the note with as full a sound as I could muster. But he immediately put up a hand to halt me and shook his head.

"I said low C."

"But ... I thought that was low C." I said, confused.

"Not in concert pitch. Too low. Go up a whole step."

With a nod, I fingered a low D and blew. He didn't stop me then, and in fact, a slight smile tugged at his lips at hearing my sound. To my surprise, he didn't stop me at any point, but waited for my breath to run out.

"You have a nice sound." he said, "Full and steady, I like it. Now play me a chromatic scale, from lowest note to the highest you can go, and back down."

Once again, I obliged without difficulty. My upper range was something I planned to work on extending in the future, but I made all the half-step transitions smoothly, and he nodded in approval when I finished.

"Nice." The man reached over to a nearby desk and put a piece of sheet music on the music stand in front of me. "Now play that as accurately as you can, but don't stop or go back if you mess up."

I gulped. "I ... sorry, I can't really read music."

At this, he crossed his arms. "In that case ... I'm sorry, but we can't take you on. The guild's main income is from staffing big bands, and they always require you can read. You have a good sound, don't get me wrong. But you need to learn to read, and probably get your speed up as well. Come back here when you've worked that out, alright?"

I brought my chin up and offered him a tight smile. "Thanks, I will."

He ushered me out the door, and I headed back out to the waiting area to pack up my tenor. I did give the alto player a reassuring smile as he headed back for his own audition, which he appeared to appreciate. When I snapped the last buckle closed on my case, I heard his first notes from the back room, and my eyes widened. The man had a sound sweeter than candy.

When I exited earshot, melancholy descended back over me, however. So many obstacles stood in my way if I wanted to make my way as a freelancer, but then the guild also rejected me. I could work on my reading skills, sure, but that wouldn't pay my rent in the meantime. Maybe I shouldn't have made the bold move to Silverport to begin with.

As I headed out the office's doors, I'd inadvertently had my head down, so I bumped into someone's shoulder and caused her to drop her open handbag on the floor. The diverse contents that spilled out included several coins, a stick of chapstick, some makeup supplies, and other things. I swiftly set my case down and began sweeping the contents of the bag back inside.

I fixed my mistake before the lady could even bend down to help me, and I handed her bag back to her with an apologetic smile. When I met her beautiful brown eyes, I only felt more nervous. She was a stunning young lady, standing about a head shorter than I, with a shapely, sun-kissed face peppered with even darker freckles and full lips. Her thick black hair was fairly short, but not in an unfeminine way. Rather, it curled upward and complimented the rest of her features from above.

"Well ... sorry about that." I muttered, my smile faltering, "Should've been looking where I was going."

A hint of amusement crossed the lady's eyes. "All is forgiven. You were decent enough to pick up your mess, after all."

"Yeah." I laughed nervously as a lean man with fishing equipment in his arms strolled in behind the lady and eyed me skeptically. "Anyway, have a nice day, ma'am."

"You too."

All too eager to exit the awkward situation, I picked up my case and headed out the double doors. A hint of gloom did still linger in my head about my unsuccessful audition, but the chance to interact with such a fine lady brightened my mood somewhat, even despite the embarrassing circumstances.

* * * * *

A/N: Oh well...even though the guild won't take our boy either, at least now he knows some specific things to work on. I'm sure we'll be along with him on the road to success soon. And hey, even though not too much came of it, he got to bump into Tahlia in the process, so I'd count that as half a win right there. 😂  

Anyways, if you enjoyed the chapter, do vote and comment, blah blah blah, you either know the drill, or you're rebellious. 😝

While we're here, how are you liking the musical angle of this story so far? I feel like not too many romance novels around here dive into the arts in any depth like this, lol. Sometimes, I'll see a female lead who paints for fun, but it's not usually a key part of her character like music is here. Anyway, hope that's been enjoyable and not boring so far? 

And for our random question, what music are you listening to right now? Or alternatively, what last played? 

(For me, I'm listening to an instrumental cover of "Over the Rainbow" by saxophonist Art Pepper. Second take, to be exact. 😂) 

That'd be my cue to leave; hope you have an awesome week, and I'll see you in the next update!