7
Théâtre Bohème, 2 December 1870
Johann found himself in the role of concertmaster, conductor and cat herder during the rehearsal. Every time he suggested something, Frederic would argue with him about it, and by the end of the first hour, he was sure he’d lost clumps of hair due to pulling on it in frustration. Even worse, Frederic was his stand-mate, which put the Frenchman in an even better position to sabotage him.
“Let’s try that passage again,” he said and willed his jaw to unclench. He wouldn’t show the little snot how much he’d allowed him to bother him.
He lifted his arm, but an ear-splitting scream punctuated the air before he could draw his bow across the strings.
“What the hell was that?”
“It’s a theatre, you idiot.” Frederic’s accent didn’t make his insult any more char
