The ride back to Richmond was mostly quiet, until we hit Ashland, half an hour from home. I was nervous both from driving his expensive car, and from his hand which only loosened its grip on mine when I had to shift gears.
“So what did you think of Turandot?”
I was afraid Serge would ask me that, because while I could tell him my opinions of the first half of the production, the last half was a memory wrapped in a foggy blanket of desire.
“The guy you told me to watch, what was his name again?” I asked.
“Ricardo Dominici.”
“Yeah, him. He has a great voice, but I thought his acting was kind of wooden, like he was following the stage directions to the letter, but nothing more. Now, the singer who played Princess Turandot, that’s who I’d try to get for next season.”
“She’d require twice
