A Study in Music Theory (Wesper AU)

Nine: The Night Club

Wylan nervously chewed at his thumb as he watched Jesper open the letter in front of him. It was sealed with a metallic purple wax that smelled strangely like fresh orchid. Jesper was tempted to pocket the seal as a weird keepsake.

"What does it say?" Wylan asked.

"Don't know yet," said Jesper. "Give me some time to open it first."

"Right. Sorry."

Jesper had come into the workday not entirely sure what to expect. The night before — the party — it all felt like some strange dream. He still vividly remembered the blue rose bush and Wylan's flute solo in the middle of the crowded room. He remembered how cold the night air was on his cheeks and the dim streetlights that led his way back to the mansion.

These were the types of things he tried to focus on when he thought about last night. Jesper certainly didn't think of the soft crinkle in Wylan's jacket when they hugged for the first time, or the way he smelled as clean as fresh laundry. And he certainly didn't spend the rest of his night thinking about how confident Wylan sounded when he called Jesper attractive, his eyes shining and his smile practically glowing. That most definitely didn't play over and over in his head as adrenaline made laps through his stomach. And that definitely didn't result in him wanting to cringe every time he thought about the stupid jokes he made all night.

No, he definitely did not think about Wylan at all.

Jesper had nearly turned around and left when he saw Wylan in the study this morning. He didn't want to act like everything was normal after Wylan had openly flirted with him. How was anyone supposed to act normal after that?

He would have left, too, if he didn't see how nervous Wylan looked. He was practically green from fear, clutching a tiny little envelope in his hands. Jesper had asked him what was wrong and Wylan shoved the letter at him in response.

"Read it," he had said.

So that was what Jesper intended to do. He slipped the letter out as carefully as he could and unfolded it. The letter was short in a clean hand. Jesper cleared his throat.

"'Mr. Wylan Van Eck,'" Jesper read. "'My name is Lillia Theoppe. We had met briefly yesterday when we had made a bet on Vach. As promised, I had sacked my best performer, completing my side of the deal. Unfortunately, that has also left me without my best flutist.
"I know I may have acted in a manner that may have seemed insincere, and I apologize for that. However, you and your partner had left before I could have even thanked you for your performance. It warmed my heart to see someone as young as yourself performing with such love and attentativeness to Vach. And to perform it as beautifully as you did was such a gift.
"To make a long story short, I have another proposition for you. I know you must work for your father — as is common for boys your age — but I now have an opening for a solo act. You'd play at my Fifth Avenue Clubhouse, a fine and highly-praised establishment. I could offer you 100 kruge per performance every Friday night. You would be allowed to play whatever you desire (so long as it is appropriate) for a one-hour long performance (short minute breaks will be allowed). We may also negotiate hours if you accept. At least come by the club tonight. You and your partner may dine for free; my treat.
"Yours,
"Lillia A. Theoppe'"

Wylan was as white as a sheet — a ghost in the daylight. "Is that really what it says?"

"Really." Jesper set the letter down and leaned back in his chair. "So?"

"So what?"

"Are you going to take it?"

"I mean, I don't need the money," Wylan said bluntly.

Jesper rolled his eyes. "I know that, but just think about it! This could be your chance to get into the music industry!"

Wylan nodded, but he didn't seem convinced. His lips were pursed in a way that could only mean he was processing information. After a second, his face dropped and he turned back to Jesper. "But that means we can't go to the university tomorrow night."