The High Note

by FlashFoward

Favors

It’s been a while since you been in the home you grew up in, as a kid. The house was white and glossy, this was Canterlot, and had two floors. Not much changed over the years, except the old tire swing you put on the front yard was long gone. True, that old tire was an eyesore standing close to the lavish house. However, this didn’t mean that old tire held some sentimental value for you. Dad would force you to practice until he felt you had enough, meaning until dawn to dusk. He would allow you a short break, which you would use to play on the tire swing. Mom had helped you set it up and even pushed it for you, while your dad sat fuming at the sight of you being happy from within the house.

These floods of memories were just one of the reasons why you didn’t like to come here. There was too much in the past for you, things that you wanted to stay away from at any cost. You hesitantly knock on the front door, hoping that there wouldn’t be an answer. The metallic clicking behind from the door told you otherwise. A mares head poked through the small amount of room she had opened the room. Calling her a beauty was being too nice, she looked rather grumpy and that took away from her looks.

“Who are you?” The mare demanded impatiently.

“I’m here to talk to Oscar.” You try to remain as neutral as possible.

She leans closer to you, the smell of alcohol emitting from her very fur. “Oscar you say? He’s busy right now.”

“Doing what?” You knew you weren’t going to like the answer.

“It’s not a question of doing what. Doing who is a better question.” She hints mischievously.

Yep, that answer didn’t sit well. “Of course he is. If you can, tell him that I’m-.”

Your old man pushed open the door to its full extent. “What are you doing here?”

“I need your autograph for a friend.” You mutter bitterly, seeing your dad’s face made you sick to your stomach.

“That must be a good friend for you to come over here.” Dad mused. “Fine, I’ll do it, under one condition.”

“I’ll play along. What do you want?” Keeping the bitter anger from your tone was getting harder by the second.

“Is it true that you are auditioning for the piano in that show in Note Theater soon?” For once he looked at you with interest, rather than criticism.

“That I am.” You confirm slowly.

“Ha, Melody will blow you out of the water within seconds.” Dad snickered evilly. Of course he had nothing positive to say, for you anyway.

“We’ll see about that.” You reply, finally letting all the bitter resentment flow into your tone.

Dad grabs an old picture of himself, when he used to play as a cellist, and signed it. He shoves the portrait in your grasp and slams the door in front of your face. The frame for the picture was rather fancy and so was the suit he wore in the picture. Seeing this picture of your dad’s golden days, only reminded you of the part and that you needed a suit for it. Not wanting to ask your father for anything more, you head to a local tailor to get something nice to wear.

Getting the suit isn’t what bothered you; the finished product is what you found rather magnificent. No, it was the tiresome process of getting a suit made for your exact size and so on. A suit was a suit, not some complicated science around fabrics and measurements. You couldn’t complain though, the mare who tailored your new suit was surprisingly fast. Yet she liked to pick on the smallest flaws of it. Not wanting to sit through a lecture about silk, you pay the price for the suit and head back home to get ready for the party.

Once you walked into the comforts of your home, you knew it was time to get moving. Dad’s signed portrait was hidden in the bag that came with your suit. Not wanting to look at it, you keep the picture facing flat on the ground as you tried on the suit. For some reason suits always gave you the feel of being rather limited, running in something like this was impossible. It was a black suit, might as well stick true to the classics. After giving yourself a brief inspection, you nod to your own reflection in approval. That mare really did wonders with this suit.

Dad’s portrait grabbed your eye again as you passed by the living room to the front door. You had ditched the picture on the coffee table when you first came home. Part of you still wandered how could Octavia like your dad’s skill; then again she wasn't aware of what kind of pony he was in the house. As you grab your dad’s signed portrait, you hope the effort into getting this autograph will pay off. If not, pictures better be easily flammable.

The invitation said that the dinner party will take place in a restaurant, called Grace. Apparently, Grace was situated a few blocks away from Note Theater. A rather silly thought kept popping in your head as you trotted through the streets of Canterlot. Would Octavia have tricked you? Last time she had ‘invited’ you, it was mainly for you to fill in as the pianist. There had to a catch.

All your thinking made you oblivious to your surroundings. Soon you collide right into a stallion, which looked awfully familiar.

“Mind paying attention?” Roast turned over to glare at you and cringed once he realized who you were.

“Sorry about that, Roast.” You try to sound as genuine as possible, for that would not be enough.

“Eh, it’s fine, I wasn’t carrying anything.” Roast dusted off himself as he regained his composure.

“What do you mean by that? Shouldn’t the café be closed?” It was unnatural for Roast to remain open late. He deemed that ponies were not meant to rot in front of a coffee maker.

“Oh, it is. Grace was a little low on beverages, so we cut a deal.” Roast gestured to a large barrel, that a stallion trotted off with and carried to Grace.

“Hey, mind helping me get to Grace?”

“You should really walk around town some more. I can’t be your tour guide forever.” Roast teased.

If you had rolled your eyes anymore, they would have popped out of their sockets. “Can you get me there or not? I need to be there early.”

“What’s the rush?” Roast looked rather surprised to see you so uptight with time.

“Well, remember Octavia?”

“That I do. What happen back at Note Theater anyway?”

“I’m trying out for the pianist spot. Anyway, she invited me to Grace for a dinner party the members of the orchestra and some other musicians are holding.” You answer.

“That’s why Grace needed all these drinks.” Roast mutter more to him then you. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

If the orchestra and famous musicians were eating at Grace, you figured the place was to be very luxurious. With just looking at the front entrance of the restaurant, the princesses themselves might have been eating there. Instead of the usual all white glossy marble that were used to make buildings in Canterlot, gold plating and some hints of cherry wood were evident. Roast gestures you to walk up the staircase to the entrance, but doesn’t follow.

“There are still some barrels that need to be brought here. After I’m done, I’ll try to find you.” Roast turns on his heel and trots back to the café.

You push open the door and the luxury inside was similar to the ones outside. Gold plating, cheery wood, and some Persian carpet were in the restaurant. What really caught your attention though was the enormous chandelier that hung above the room. How a thing of its huge size didn’t collapse to the ground blew your mind.

“Oh, it’s you again.”

Sure enough Greg was trotting up to you, looking less then pleased with your presence. As to why Greg chose to be a jerk to you was none of your concern, however if you were to become the pianist for his orchestra this will only become a bigger problem. To cut the tension you return a smile, which only further enraged Greg.

“Who were you expecting?” You try to keep the conversation casual.

“I invited Melody.” Greg looked over your shoulder, hoping that she would come through the doors.

“Well, you have fun with that. Mind telling me where to dinner party is?”

“Just ask a waiter to get you there. Who gave you the invite anyway?” Greg snapped coldly.

“Octavia invited me.” You flash your invite at Greg to justify yourself.

“How odd, I thought somepony already asked her.” Greg muttered to himself.

Somepony already invited her? Your mind was racing for an answer to Octavia’s desire for you to be here. Again, Greg’s attitude was getting on your nerves. You trot past Greg, who stared hawkeyed at the front entrance, and call over a waitress.
She looked like a fairly nice mare, hopefully having a better attitude then Greg.

“Whatcha need?” The mare asked in a bubbly voice.

“Know where the musicians from Note Theater are playing?”

“Of course I do! They reserved a whole room in this place to themselves.” The mare answered promptly, gesturing you to follow her.

The mare takes you to a rather large section of Grace. A small band was playing on a stage in the corner of the place while the ponies sat in seats in the middle, sometimes standing up to dance or mingle. There was no sign of Octavia and you weren't crazy about carrying around dad’s autographed picture.

“So, who’s your partner?” The waitress asked.

“Wait, what?” Your jaw goes slightly slack.

“It is Heart’s and Hooves Day you know? Have to get couples in.” The waitress explained.

“Right, um, Octavia invited me.” You stammered.

“Oh, she’s been saying something about keeping an eye out for a stallion.” The waitress interest instantly increased. “I must tell you, she sounded very anxious for you to get here. Poor thing started to drink to calm down.”

“I’ll check on her. Thanks for the information.”

“Just make sure she isn’t doing anything silly. Last time I saw her, she had a whole bottle of wine with her.” The waitress informed before attending to a table.

You seriously hoped that Octavia can hold her liquor. Hearts and Hooves Day…Octavia, yet again, kept the total truth from you. As to why she couldn’t trust you with full details were something you couldn’t figure out. Had she told you though, you would have jumped at the opportunity. The room was pretty packed and finding Octavia in the mess was going to take some effort. You had to try though, there was a good chance she was drunk and that was begging for problems.

“I finally found you.” A seductive voice whispered in your ear.

When you turn around, it was Melody. Great, the last pony you wanted to see was one of the first. “Oh hey, I thought you were with Greg.” You attempt to back away from her, but she only keeps getting closer.

“He’s running around to fetch me a cup of wine.” Melody whispered. “That doesn’t matter now though. Mind dancing with me?”

She had been making you back into the dance floor. “Well, you see, I need to meet with a friend here.” You try to steer away from the dancing, but Melody had more leverage.

“This will be quick.” Melody whispered in your ear, her lips rubbing against your earlobe.

Due to you not wanting to dance, you allowed Melody to steer while you tried to figure out a way to slip out of this mess. Even if you had wanted to dance with Melody though, her vise grip was horrifyingly strong and she liked to dominate the movement a lot. As she leaned backwards, you had no choice but to support her from falling. Taking advantage of your hold, she quickly steadies herself and her face gets extremely close to yours.

Relying on instinct, you bend your head back a bit to avoid Melody’s attempt for the kiss. There was a look of impatience on her face; you were determined to avoid her at all cost. This didn’t stop her pace, if anything, she went faster. While you two twirled, she was bring her face closer to yours again. All the twirling was forcing gravity to push you into her, instead of apart. Another dancing couple got close and you knew you had to be quick.

You manage to slip from Melody’s vise grip and take the other mares hand while her stallion took your place. It didn’t take long for the mare to realize what you had just done.

“Where is Storm?” The mare demanded, looking infuriated by the trick you played on her.

“Over there.” You point in a random direction. She looks over to the direction to where you pointed and you slipped away from the dance floor without anypony’s notice.

---

After your escape from dance floor, you found that you had slipped out near where the musicians had been playing on the stage. There were a few tables around and, to your delight; Octavia had been present in one of them. Issue was that she was covering her head with her hoofs and there were about two empty bottles close to her. One looked like wine while another looked a little different. Either suffering from a bad hangover or the liquor was starting to get a firm grip on her; you decide it was best to find out yourself.

“Octavia, are you alright?” You try to sound as nice and casual as possible.

Octavia raised her head and you notice how dazed her eyes were. “Sure I am. Glad you made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You pick up one of the bottles that were on the table. “I see you’ve been drinking."

Octavia let out a nervous giggle, accompanied with a hiccup. “Only a little bit.”

“Maybe I should take you home?” You offer nicely.

“What? No, I’m fine.” Octavia speech was getting slurred but she couldn’t be reasoned with.

“It was just a thought.” You quickly amend, not wanting to have Octavia get angry.

Octavia’s gaze drifted off the band on the stage. “Can you play me a song?”

“Well…” Octavia’s lower lip started to tremble and you quickly change your tone. “Sure, what song will it be, Octavia?”

“The first song I asked you to play. Just call me Tavi, almost everypony does.” Octavia dreamily whispered, her lips forming a lovely smile now.

“Ave Maria, you got it Tavi.” You reply before trotting up to the stage.

The musicians looked rather surprised by your presence. “What are you doing up here?” One of the violinist mares asked.

“I’m wondering if you need a pianist and, if we could, play Ave Maria.” You inform happily.

“Sure, sit down over there.” The violinist mare pointed to the piano, stationed near Octavia’s table.

Octavia took notice of the autograph picture of your dad on the table on squealed in joy at the sight of it. A silly grin ran across your face as you saw Octavia clutch the picture close to her chest.

"I got it for you." you mutter sheepishly.

Your heart skips a beat when Octavia blows you a kiss. Even if she was a little tipsy, you couldn't help but feel hopeful.

Comments

[DavetheZombieSlayer]

Two chapters? Bad ass!

[FlashFoward]

1067935
Let's see if my mind can agree with three...

[WildStallion]

Why am I getting a bad feeling now Anyways good story

[CBM8]

1067966 I shall slowly coax your subconscious into writing a third one.... :P