Club Vinyl

by BlazzingInferno

Little Pony Steps

Tonight’s rehearsal was almost too calm. Two days had gone by since the whole orchestra walked out on Perfect Note, an event whose repercussions were still being felt. Late night marathon rehearsals were a thing of the past, as were the screaming fits and public shaming of orchestra members. Tonight’s rehearsal was everything Octavia expected of her profession, although only half of what she wanted.

The other half would come in thirty seconds when Perfect Note would utter the now familiar phrase that never failed to make her smile. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Her sheet music was folded and packed before he could set down the baton. She forced herself to slow down and look professional while he made a few closing remarks.

“Our charity concert is just two days away, which also happens to be our last performance for two months. I’ll have the material for our next concert series mailed to you well before then, but be sure to take some for yourselves and your families as well. Enjoy your time off, you’ve all earned it.”

Somehow she’d been expecting him to cut all of their pay and burst into maniacal laughter. Was this really the same pony who’d thrown her out for yawning?

Concerto tapped her on the shoulder. “Ready?”

“Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”

Perfect Note was packing up his things when she approached him. He didn’t seem to notice her until she cleared her throat.

He didn’t bother looking up. “Yes, Mrs. Melody?”

“Sorry to bother you, Sir. I just… well I wanted to apologize for things getting out of hoof the other night.”

“The error was mine. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Well… be that as it may I still–”

At last he looked at her, and the lone tear in his eye stopped her mid sentence. “Do you have any foals, Mrs. Melody?”

“I don’t, Sir.”

“I have two, one of which will be starting school in the fall. I’m gravely concerned, Mrs. Melody, about the lack of music appreciation in Canterlot’s school curriculum. Please understand that I’ve been pushing all of you so hard for their sakes, not my own. I want this charity concert to do more than raise a few bits for a noble cause; I want to help future generations of musicians find their talents and for every pony to have a respect for the artistry of classical music.”

Her mouth hung open. “I… I understand, Sir. I’ll do my best to make that a reality.”

He smiled, more out of relief than joy. “A conductor could ask for nothing more. Have a good night, Mrs. Melody.”

Concerto was waiting by the door with both of their instruments packed and ready to go. “You’re smiling. We still have jobs, right?”

In response she kissed him. “Yes. Are you ready for our nightly date?”

“Always; especially if it ends like the last few have.”

She blushed and tried to hide a smile. “Let’s just get through the, shall we say, public portion of our performance first.”

They ran all the way to the club, or at least as close to a run as their heavy instruments would let them. The line at the club’s door stretched around the block. Fortunately they no longer had to wait in line, or even use the front entrance. A small key, freshly liberated from the now-evicted LP, opened a door on the side of the building that led directly to a staircase. One flight later they were in Vinyl’s apartment, basking in its perpetual stench that, Octavia had to admit, wasn’t so bad once she got used to it.

She opened the fridge and looked over their stockpile of groceries. “What would you like for dinner, Con?”

His reply from the next room was barely audible. She crossed the kitchen and poked her head into what had become their home away from home, or at least the place where they slept off their late night performances.

She snuck up behind Concerto and hugged him. “Dinner time, Con. What do you want? Just name a dish and I’ll find a way to ruin it.”

“What if I cook tonight?”

She arched an eyebrow. “I do believe you said my cooking isn’t that bad.”

“I just thought you’d like a break, a chance to put up your hooves and let your lazy husband do some work.”

“Says the pony who carries my cello more often than I do.”

He winked. “How about this: let me spoil you a little. I’m trying to be romantic here.”

“Why don’t we make dinner together? That way it’s both of our faults when it doesn’t turn out.”

“Sounds great.”

He walked past her towards the kitchen, but she hesitated. Her conversation with Perfect Note, and the implication it carried, was still on her mind. “Con?”

“Yes, Tavi?”

“When do you think we should start a family?”

He turned back stared at her with wide eyes. “I… uh… I don’t know. I mean we both work so much just to make ends meet…”

“…but you do still want one, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Why are you bring this up n–”

She kissed him, long and slow. “Whenever it happens, we’ll make it work.”

The apartment’s door flew open and Vinyl galloped in. “Tav? You guys are here, right?”

“We’re in here. Is everything okay?”

Vinyl was at the room door next, and her huge smile said it all. “We’ve gotta get down there; the crowd’s totally pumped. I think somepony saw you guys walking in.”

“We’ll be down as soon as we eat. It’s only twelve thirty; we’re not scheduled to go on until one.”

“Just grab an apple or something and get moving, this is Club Vinyl’s biggest night ever!”

Five minutes later, four more than Vinyl would’ve liked, they were downstairs and on stage. From their elevated vantage point they should’ve been able to see the club’s entire ground floor. Instead they could see only one thing: ponies. The place was jam-packed with ponies, and all of them were cheering in anticipation of what they knew was coming.

Octavia glanced at Concerto and grinned. Inside of a week they’d become rock stars. “Ready to make some music?”

---

Time was irrelevant, and sheet music was merely a suggestion. Octavia played to Concerto, Concerto played to Octavia, and Vinyl supercharged the result. Their first night’s performance had only lasted ten minutes, whereas this one closed in on an hour. The last note, a long and deep purr from all three instruments, had every member of the crowd screaming for more.

Vinyl moved the spotlights out over the crowd, and then pulled them back to her friends on stage. Concerto accidentally looked up into the lights and did his best to smile through through the pain and temporary blindness. To him the crowd was invisible, and his wife was merely a shadow. A shadow that, strangely enough, was at the edge of the stage on two hooves brandishing her bow overhead.

Octavia’s voice, amplified by the microphones placed around their instruments, echoed through the club. “Respect the arts!”

She retreated to his side a moment later. “I can’t believe I just… I mean I didn’t think the microphones would–”

The crowd responded before he could, and they were chanting in unison. “Art! Art! Art!”

He grinned and kissed her on the forehead. “Nice.”

“But… why are they…”

“I think you just became a club icon.” He could almost feel her blushing. “Shall we make our exit?”

“Yes, before I faint.”