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CastawayChapter 19 free porn video
I admit I was pretty on edge Sunday morning. I'd set the alarm for 6:30 to give myself plenty of time to wake up and get the vocal cords working, but I actually was awake at 5:30 and by 6:00 I gave up all efforts at sleeping and got myself in gear. I was doing exercises by 8:00, trying to loosen up as much as I could. A little after 9:00 I was ready to leave; no unexpected traffic jam was going to make me late for this.
Asmedogh had been riding my shoulder most of the morning, which gave me some needed confidence; it had been his doing, I constantly remembered, that I'd found my voice. Before he jumped down—he was jumping now, almost all the vestiges of his condition had left him—he had something to say to me.
"This day is very important to you," he said. "It will go better if you are not nervous as you are. I give you ease. Then you must only sing as you know how." And I actually felt his calming influence filter its way into my mind. Sure, I knew it was him, not me, but that didn't change the effect. I felt a great deal better as I walked out the door.
Some of the nerves came back as I drove in, but he'd given me a crutch and I leaned on it heavily. I wasn't Marullo any more, I was Ford, I was Scarpia, I was every major baritone role ever written, and yes, I could do this. I'd sing the way I'd been taught, I'd sing all out, I'd give them their money's worth and then some.
My nerves gave me another quick nip as I got to the stage door, but I ignored them and walked in like I owned the place. The guard, poring over the Sunday paper, looked up briefly, nodded and waved me toward the stage. "Morning, Nick," he said. "They're waiting."
Except for the piano and the leftover Turandot set the stage was empty when I walked on. But only the overhead lights were on, no spots, and I could see out into the house where Camilla was talking to three guys in suits. She waved me out, and I went round by the side where I could walk down.
She introduced me around, and we all shook hands, but I could tell it was pretty perfunctory on their part; they weren't, obviously, expecting much. Well, time would tell about that, it didn't worry me unduly. They were here, which was what counted. I had absolutely no idea what their names were; Camilla said them but they didn't register, my nerves were back with a will. One of them got up—he'd do the piano—and the two of us trooped back up the steps to the stage again.
I gave the guy the music I'd brought and settled in near the piano. In a minute I heard him start the introduction, and I focused my mind on producing the best version of Ford's aria that they'd ever heard, and I was thinking about it so fervently that the accompanist got to where I was supposed to come in and just went on right past it. And I hadn't sung a note!
For some reason it struck me funny; I just burst out laughing, and waved vaguely at the pianist to stop him. "Sorry," I said, still chuckling. "Can we try that again?"
Nobody else was laughing, but I didn't care. The unexpected glitch had taken all my nerves away, now I was just charged up. And this time when my musical cue arrived I came in precisely on the beat, softly at first the way the aria dictates, but then straight into my first run-up at full voice.
I didn't look at Camilla or the two suits even once; I knew I was nailing it. And when we got to the end, where it flows up to a high G, I brought it off the same way that for so many years I'd been hearing only in my mind, and I finished that way, too.
Nothing but silence. Well, auditions are like that, you sing your ass off and then you expect to hear people clapping their own asses off, but you get no more reaction than if you'd just picked up a sack of potatoes. Even when you know it's coming it's kind of a let-down.
"Thank you," said one of the suits. But his voice seemed a little less blasé than when we'd been introduced. "Now, if you don't mind, we need some Tosca. Camilla, if you would? The Act I duet, please. From the Sacristan's exit."
She walked up on stage, gave me a brief smile, but then immediately looked away. I knew what was up; she was settling into her character before we started. I slid a bit to one side; Scarpia's hiding at that moment, Tosca doesn't know he's there. The pianist waited for her nod, she gave it to him, and she started to sing in that lovely, flowing voice.
And I made my "entrance," actually taking a couple of steps toward her, and did my own introductory lines, pretty much straightforward. And she answered, just two words—"Grazie, signor", "Thank you, sir"—but with such contempt dripping down them that I was briefly taken aback. Had I pissed her off somehow? Upset her?
It was only a flash, though, before I understood. This wasn't Camilla singing to Nick, it was Floria Tosca to Scarpia, and Tosca thought Scarpia was lower than a snake's belly. Well, I was Scarpia, the most powerful man in Rome, and I didn't have to take that shit from anybody. So when I kept going I made sure to get it into my own voice that I'd heard her tone but was above that sort of thing myself and would remain ironically civil.
Actually the whole duet plays it Scarpia's way. He sows seeds of jealousy in Tosca about her boyfriend, the tenor, even waves around another woman's kerchief he says he found nearby (he's a liar) to fan the flames, and then gloats in stage asides when she bites. She keeps trying to maintain her composure and treat him like dirt, but eventually she snaps and goes rushing off to catch her lover in the act. He finishes up laughing at her.
So I gave it back to her as good as I was getting, and she got even stronger and so did I, and finally off she went.
"Va, Tosca," I sang—"Go, Tosca," the idea being that she's going off exactly as I, Scarpia, intended. It goes on from there, and I was ready to keep singing, but suddenly I realized there was no more accompaniment; the pianist was simply sitting there clapping.
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