I stepped out of the room, but not soon enough. I ran directly into Mr. and Mrs. Dae, led by Chagny.
“Chagny,” I said flatly.
“What’s this?” He gestured to Kim.
I didn’t respond to him. My focus went to her parents who shared similar looks of worry. “She’s dehydrated.”
“Oh my, she’s so pale,” Mrs. Dae said to her husband.
Chagny stepped forward. “She didn’t say she was unwell. Quick. Take her to my car. The hospital is only a few miles away.”
Again, I ignored him and spoke to the parents. “The hospital wait time will be hours. Dr. Thurston lives near me and can be at my house by the time I arrive home.”
“To your house?” Mr. Dae frowned.
“You’re welcome to follow me,” I said and tried to step around Chagny.
“I’ll go with him, honey. You meet the guests,” Mrs. Dae said to her husband. Then turning to me she added, “We’re hosting a small soiree tonight. I’ll make sure she’s okay and then bring her home.”
“This is crazy. You can’t take her to—”
“I have many spare rooms,” I cut the dirtbag off. “She’s more than welcome to stay at my home until the morning when I can return her safely.”
“It will be very loud at our house and she needs rest. Today was such a big day,” Mrs. Dae said. “Honestly, if this wasn’t fairly common for her, I’d be more worried. Most likely she just needs to eat and sleep.”
Kim shifted in my arms with a soft moan. Her parents exchanged another worried look.
“You’re right.” Mr. Dae glanced at his watch. “Okay. What about the car? How will you get home?”
“Oh shoot.” She frowned. “I didn’t think about that.”
“I’ll drive you, Mrs. Dae,” Chagny insisted. “I have much I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Oh, that would be lovely, thank you, Roderick.”
I glared. “Not necessary.”
“I insist.” He smiled with all his teeth at me.
“No—”
“Excellent. So it’s settled,” Chagny spoke over me. “Let’s go. Devlin must be getting tired, holding Kim like that.”
Mr. Dae kissed his wife goodbye and headed out. The rest of us started toward the exit.
After I gave my address, I walked away from the group, not waiting to ensure they would follow. When I was a few feet away, Chagny said, “How unfortunate for Carla that she missed tonight.”
“Oh yes. But good for our girl,” Mrs. Dae replied.
“Somebody mentioned rehearsal had been intense today. The Maestro is very stern with the musicians. Maybe she just needed a night off,” Chagny said with saccharine sweetness.
I kept my focus on breathing and not punching him in the face.
What game was he playing at? I put more distance between us. Wes’s car sat idling waiting for us. A minivan wasn’t my vehicle of choice, but my brother had it ready and waiting.
“Is she okay?” Wes asked.
“She will be. Help me get her in,” I responded.
He opened the passenger door for me. I placed her in the seat, leaning it all the way back so she could get comfortable. She curled up, still more out of it than anybody should be after just a little bit of champagne. She mumbled incoherently—something about food and notes.
Once she was situated, Wes cleared his throat. “I’m not aiding and abetting criminal activity, am I?”
I shot him a look.
“Don’t answer that. Just give me the keys to the bike and we can pretend this never happened.”
I tossed him the keys and he caught them happily.
“I’ll see you back at my house,” I said.
Once in the driver’s seat, I finally smoothed the loose strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind the soft shell of her ear. Electricity shot through me.
I balled my fist and pulled it away.
Kim could help me with my music. Nothing more. I wouldn’t let old feelings get in the way of new goals.
“It’s not kidnapping,” I said to Wes. Wear a mask and people automatically paint you as the bad guy.
“You keep saying that like it’s true.” My brother closed the door behind him as he came into the front hallway to whisper-yell at me.
Kim was still asleep in the guest bedroom upstairs. I didn’t think Beethoven’s Fifth would wake her right now. Though I did keep my hat and mask on just in case.
“Thanks for the car and for bringing my bike back.”
He made a gesture like I was dumb for thanking him. “Just don’t tell Kelly.”
I made a gesture like he was dumb for having to say that. But yeah, I would definitely tell Kelly at the earliest opportunity if it meant I got to see my brother smacked upside the head by his pint-sized wife. “And you don’t have to whisper. She’s fine. Just tired.”
“That’s good. Still weird that she’s here.”
I sighed pointedly at him. “For the record, her mom followed me here.” And left again at the soonest opportunity. Chagny, too. Every second he was in my company he would subtly undermine me in passive aggressive ways. They guy was smooth. I’d never be able to charm her parents like he did so effortlessly. None of that it mattered as much as her health. Thankfully, Wes had arrived shortly after and could out charm a used car salesman. When Chagny realized he was outmatched, he cleared out. Mrs. Dae seemed eager to return to her party, and Chagny relented as soon as she’d made it obvious she was ready to go.
“I didn’t just whisk her away in the night. They agreed that it would be better if I took her here and called the doctor rather than wait four hours at the ER.”
“Sure, this is all a totally normal thing to do. Nobody will think anything of it. Rumors won’t start.” Wes made his way toward the kitchen and I followed. He helped himself to my fridge and snagged two beers.
“Could you not lay into me? I’m exhausted.” I rubbed my eyes until white spots danced in my vision. I grabbed the beer he nudged me with and leaned back against the counter.
“You’re exhausted?” Wes clinked my beer. “You just made Dr. Thurston drive all the way up here to your creepy mansion by the lake, just to find out she was tired and needed food. That man’s too old for this. What’s this really about? Is she the reason you’re back here?”
“He lives five minutes away. Don’t be so dramatic.” I pulled the gaiter mask down under my chin and swallowed four deep gulps of beer. After wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I said, “I told you why I’m back.”
“Yeah. You did. How will staying through a season at the SOOK prove you’re hirable?”
“The last three symphonies fired me for my temper, right? Just ask anyone.” I glanced to the side. “I need to show I can play well with others.”
“And what’s with this cellist?” He shook his head. “There’s something here I’m not buying.”
I picked at the label on my beer bottle and debated unloading on him.
“It’s gonna break Ma and Dad’s heart if you up and leave again with no warning.” He leaned on the counter next to me and crossed his ankles. “The girls too.”
“That’s dirty. You know I’m defenseless against my nieces’ dimples.”
He smiled and I saw a copy of my own face. Or at least my face when I had smiled. In front of actual people. Mask free. Wes had the same almost-black eyes and matching dark curls, though he kept his hair trimmed short. We shared the same intense glare that our mom said could get us out of anything as kids. The difference was Wes wielded his with an easy smile to charm, and I used mine with a frown to intimidate.
“Can you take off the hat? At least you pulled down the frickin’ mask.” He gestured to my face. “I can’t even remember what you look like.”
“Like your reflection. But better looking.” I cleared my throat. “I can’t. If she comes down—”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” He cracked open two new beers against the counter like any good ol’ boy learned to do by th
e age of fifteen. “You built this beautiful home and you’re hardly ever here. Short visits only. Now, you’re back for at least six months and you’re telling me this has nothing to do with the woman currently sleeping in your guest room?”
I swallowed. It was complicated. She herself didn’t know of our connection in the past and if I brought it up too soon, it might push her away. I would need to talk to her first. Eventually. I set down the beer to wipe my palms on my pants before picking it up again.
“I needed to be back home and back in these mountains to feel inspired. To finish something through to the end. Kim, that’s her name, is going to help me. Though she goes by Christine now, actually.”
“Okay.” Wes shook his head and blinked rapidly like he was trying to make sense of everything.
“I heard her practicing after rehearsal a few times.” I explained. “She has incredible talent. But it’s not about her.” I held his gaze.
His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t buying it but sensed I wasn’t saying any more about her.
“What’s that other guy’s deal? The one hovering over Kim’s mom?”
“Roderick Chagny.” My voice was heavy with distaste. “I’m not sure why he’s back. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t trust him. Too charming.”
“Said the pot about the kettle.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sincere though. I can’t help it.” Wes’s eyes drifted over as I spoke. “Wait. Chagny … I know that name.”
“His parents are rich.” I forced cool indifference into my voice. “Big donors to the SOOK performance center.”
“How would I know any of that? Wait.” Wes snapped his fingers. “He was that kid that you hated from camp.”
“You can’t remember your wedding anniversary, but you can remember some kid a lifetime ago?”
He threw his arm around my neck. “I remember people that mess with my little bro.” He tugged off my hat to give me a noogie before I could stop him. He was two and a half solid inches shorter than me and had gained a post-football season gut about fifteen years ago, but he never passed on an opportunity to show me he was the older brother. I pushed him off and put my hat back in place.
“He didn’t come after me,” I growled. “He just got under my skin. I was a counselor when he was there, and his parents’ wealth made him untouchable.”
“Didn’t he do something? Some drama?” Wes asked.
“Not officially,” I mumbled. “He managed to never get caught doing anything. He’s just one of those people. Everybody loves him. He says just the right things. But I would always catch him in these little lies. For no reason. Always claiming something that was small, almost harmless. But blatant, pointless lies.”
“Yeah, I know the type. Like ‘I’ve got four parakeets,’ when you know for a fact they don’t, but also who the fuck lies about having birds?”
“That’s a real specific example, but yeah, exactly. And you can’t call people out on stuff like that or you look like the jerk.” I took another slug of beer.
Wes nodded and gulped down the rest of his bottle. “I hate guys like that. Don’t worry. If you want, I'll kick his ass.” He flexed and kissed his biceps. “These guns haven’t lost their bullets.”
“It amazes me that we’re related.”
Wes pushed my head and I pulled a punch to his gut.
“I better head out. The girls are probably threatening to tie Kelly up and break out the cookies.”
I laughed and walked him to the door.
“I’m glad you're back. It’s nice being able to stop by like this.” Wes squeezed the doorframe, checking the sturdiness all while avoiding my gaze.
“Yeah,” I said, sniffing once before stuffing my hands deep in my pockets. I wouldn’t be here for long. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Not right now.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He held my gaze. “With the SOOK,” he added.
“Me too.”
Chapter 8
Let the music call you.
KIM
I wiggled deeper into the sheets. I would let myself have just a few more minutes. Practice could wait. Swimming could wait. Just for a little while longer. My eyes wouldn’t open anyway, so if they went on strike, I was at their mercy. My head rested comfortably on a pillow that must work part-time as a cloud, and the heavy down comforter smelled like fresh laundry and sunshine.
I went back under with a contended sigh.
The next time I woke up I was a little more concerned about where I was. My eyes shot open and blinked away the sleep rapidly. I frowned at a vaulted ceiling I’d never seen. My fingers splayed out to grip a majestic duvet that wasn’t mine.
“Curious,” I said.
I turned my head to the side and spotted a few pieces of furniture. Too homey for a hotel, but lacking in personal touches. Guest room? It was lovely and comfortable, but it was still distressing not knowing where I was. I fought sleep to recall the events of the night before. My phone sat on the bedside table. I picked it up and found it charging. Next to that sat a plate of delectable looking scrambled eggs, with toast and orange juice.
I unplugged my phone and squinted at it until the screen came into focus. It was almost ten in the morning; much later than my usual wake time of five a.m.
I had one text.
“Eat the food. Drink the juice.” It was Devlin.
I sat up in bed with a racing heart. Wait, wait. Was I at Devlin’s house? The Devil of the Symphony himself? Cloudy bits of nonsense started to return to me … the solo … Roddy … the champagne … ugh.
My hands trembled as I navigated to the group message with my parents to search for clues and let them know I was alive. I couldn’t imagine what they thought. To my immense relief, I saw that they had sent a goodnight text.
“Everything is good at home. Rest up. Call us later tomorrow after you talk to the Maestro.” They knew I was with Devlin. They were okay with it?
More hazy memories floated back in bits and pieces. Being carried away. Hearing my parents discuss a plan. Doc Thurston with a stethoscope checking my heart and shining a light in my eyes. Gosh, I had been so out of it.
I tossed my phone aside and scrubbed my face awake. Had Devlin carried me out? Imagining the hulking conductor gently carry me away sent a thrill through me. Next to me, the curtains were drawn on a large window. I looked down to discover I was in a set of comfortable cotton pajamas over the bra and underwear from last night. I remembered changing now, too. I let loose a long sigh and calmed myself down.
My stomach rumbled, and after making use of the attached bathroom, I dug into breakfast with no qualms. Maybe it was because I had grown accustomed to most of my choices being made for me. Maybe it was because I’d woken up in far worse rooms without any clue as to where I was. And this was certainly better than a hospital bed. Or maybe it was just knowing that Devlin was here. The Devil of the Symphony clearly cared if I could perform.
I felt a thousand times better with food in my stomach. My head still pounded, but I didn’t feel as awful as I thought I might today. I warred with myself over what to do next. I would have to tell Devlin my decision sooner or later, and that was a weight on my chest I couldn’t shake. First, I needed to find him.
Still in my pajamas, I crept to the door and cracked it open. Soft notes of a piano greeted my ears, far away but alluring. The melody was unfamiliar. It was gentle and flowing like a trickling stream, and it sent goosebumps down my arms. The music compelled me to walk down a hallway that ended with a banister overlooking a large open space. I was on an upper level. Below was a luxurious living room with expansive windows stretching from floor to ceiling. Tall pines lined the property outside, but beyond that, a heavy fog and overcast sky blocked any further views. It gave the chilling effect of being in a dream where there was no world outside the immediate area of this house. The drifting, seductive notes only added to the surrealness of this whole situation.
The haze of sleep
still clouded my brain. I debated staying there until somebody found me, but the melody was too captivating. It floated up from a wrapping staircase off to my left. I followed the notes down, wondering on some level if I was still asleep. Once I reached the main level, I caught a glimpse of a gleaming gourmet kitchen branching off behind the stairs. To the right, a massive dining room bled into the living room I had just been looking down upon.
The music was closer, but still came from another floor below. I would need to descend farther into the foreign house.
A door tucked away past the modern chef’s kitchen seemed to be the source of the music. When I pushed it open, it led to yet another set of stairs leading straight down. These stairs were not plush carpet like the set I had already descended; they were wooden and narrow. The air was cool and damp and smelled faintly of earth. My feet carried me forward before I could fully process how odd this all was. Or maybe I understood the weirdness, but I couldn’t stop now.
My only goal was to get closer. I had to find the source of that song. The melody had transformed, coaxing me onward with a staccato beat. Each step seemed to fall in time with the short, loud notes. Cement cooled my feet when I reached the bottom.
Dim light illuminated a long hallway that stretched farther than it had seemed when I’d first descended. The few side doors branching off were locked—I checked. I was being led, called by something that tugged on my chest. Rational thought remained upstairs; now I was driven solely by instinct. Maybe I should have been scared, but I simply wasn’t.
The hall ended with a heavy metal door. Just on the other side, the music rang clearly. I went in.
It was unlike anything I’d ever seen, greater than any rehearsal space. Cavernous and huge. Guitars hung in neat lines along the walls. The ceiling and any unoccupied wall space were covered sporadically in red foam soundproofing panels. A door off to the side looked like it led to some sort of recording booth. Various instruments, some I recognized and some exotic and foreign, were showcased around the room. Thick Turkish rugs lined the floor, stacked and frayed in some spots. It was like a recording studio and rehearsal space made a glorious love child. It was the wet dream of every musician, ever.
The Treble With Men Page 5
