Played to Death by Meg Perry Page B

when Liz stuck her head in the door. “What’s going on with Kevin and Kristen?”
    “Nothing, as far as I know.”
    She wiggled her eyebrows. “I think they’d be perfect together.”
    Liz had a habit of matchmaking that sometimes ended well and sometimes didn’t. I said, “They might be, but they need to figure that out for themselves. No input from the cheering section.”
    She huffed in indignation. “Fine.”
    “Do you know Jon’s coming here this morning?”
    “Yes, and so is Scott. It’s like old home week. I haven’t seen Scott since you and he broke up.”
    I laughed. “I’ll send him over when we’re done.”
    Scott arrived first, looking unhappy. I said, “Oh, cheer up. It won’t be that bad.”
    He grunted. “It’s just that I had an incredible weekend. This is depressing me.”
    “Incredible, huh?”
    “Yeah, I went to -”
    Kevin appeared in the doorway. “Good, you’re both here.”
    I said, “Hello to you too. We’re fine, thank you.”
    He glowered. “Stuff it. Let’s get started.”
    It occurred to me that Kevin needed to get laid. Jon stuck his head in the door, his usual smiling self, Donna right behind him. “Room for two more?”
    I opened my bookmarked web pages and let Scott sit behind my computer to read through them. He discarded the first few. “This one’s a fan site. This one’s not specific to cellists. This one’s more about musicians who have died of AIDS than about cellists.” He flipped through a couple more. “Hm - no.” He stopped at one and studied the screen, then leaned forward, chin resting on his hand, and began scrolling.
    Jon said, “A candidate?”
    “Maybe. Let me look.”
    Kevin and Donna looked over his shoulder, waiting. Finally Scott looked up. “This is the one I’d choose. It’s for serious cello connoisseurs only, but it’s not all musicians. Looks like there are several patrons of the arts here too. And there are people posting nearly every hour.”
    Jon asked, “Do you have to identify yourself by name?”
    “No. They’re using screen names.”
    “What do you have to do to join?”
    Scott clicked a couple of times. “Looks like you just join.” He read for a minute. “Here’s the code of conduct. Anyone can join, but if you post something the admin deems inappropriate, you get booted.”
    “Fair enough.” Kevin waved his hand at my computer. “Go ahead.”
    “I have to give an email address. I don’t want to use my real one.”
    I said, “Set up a separate email account just for this.”
    Scott set up a quick account - [email protected] - then joined the site using juilliardgrad as his screen name. “Okay, I’m in.”
    Donna said, “Post something. Introduce yourself without identifying yourself.”
    Scott thought for a few seconds, then typed.
    Hello,
    New member here, cellist with west coast orchestra. Off for the summer, looking for people to chat with about cello music. Hope this is the right spot.
    Donna nodded in satisfaction. “Perfect.”
    Scott said, “Let me write down this web address.”
    “Here.” I handed him a sticky note and a pen.
    He neatly printed the URL. “How often do you want me to check this?”
    Jon said, “A couple of times a day should be plenty. Don’t look too eager.”
    “No, I… Hey, I’ve got a response already.”
    We crowded around the monitor.
    Welcome, juilliardgrad. You have come to the right place. Feel free to join any of our discussions, but the forum on music for cello is probably the one you’d prefer. Just curious, when were you at Juilliard?
    “Ack. What do I tell him?”
    Kevin said, “Don’t make anything up. It’ll be hard to remember what you said if it’s not the truth.”
    Scott sighed. “Okay.” He typed, 1996-2000.
    There was a pause, then a reply popped up. Ah. Know several grads, but all were there earlier .
    “Good.” Jon rubbed his hands together. “An older crowd. More likely to know someone with the money to be a rare music