“I love you,” she said. “Myra, what time are we going to dinner?”
“Eight o’clock. You need to meet us in the lobby around seven-thirty.”
“Okay,” Cecily said, and kicked the door to our room closed. Turning to me, she began unbuttoning my shirt. “You know what I missed most the past two months?”
One thing about Cecily, she was punctual. We arrived in the lobby at seven-thirty on the dot, although her hair was still a little damp from the shower. I assumed we were going somewhere fancy, as she told me to wear my best suit and she wore an incredible teal evening gown with the diamonds I gave her. Although Cecily didn’t need a bra, her breasts were fairly large in relation to how slender she was. The dress certainly showed off what she had.
The limo took us to the city park and an elegant old building overlooking a canal. The inside was even more fabulous than the outside.
On the way, I said, “Something you didn’t tell me is why my ticket was only one way.”
“That’s because we’re going to spend Sunday after my performance in bed, that’s my quiet day, you know. Marcus and Myra are flying back to New York on Monday. Then we’ll kick around Vienna for a couple of days and fly to Paris for a week.”
“Why Paris?”
“Because it’s the most romantic city in the world,” she said, with an exasperated expression.
“And?”
Myra mumbled, “Quit while you’re ahead.”
I looked at Marcus, who was giving me a look that plainly said, ‘how stupid are you?’
“Oh,” I said. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Cecily shook her head. “Don’t do that, Jake. People will think you’re slow.” She winked at me and gave us all one of her imp grins. “And we know you’re only slow when I ask you to be.”
I felt my face turn scorching hot, and saw that Marcus and Myra also blushed.
When we sat down in the restaurant, Cecily pointed to my menu and started to explain the dishes to me. Then she stopped. “Oh, your menu is in English.”
Looking around, I saw that everyone’s menu was in English except hers. She had spoken to the maître d’hôtel in German when we arrived and while he was seating us.
“I didn’t know you spoke German,” I said.
“German, French, Spanish, Italian, hell, everywhere we’ve been she speaks the language,” Myra said. “We went to hole-in-the-wall cafes in Paris and Rome and had the most incredible meals. Places where they never see Americans. You should see her in the markets. My God, she’s a shark. She barters like a grandmother.”
“You should see her negotiate a contract,” Marcus said.
“You don’t expect me to sing a song I don’t understand, do you?” Cecily asked. “I know that opera singers do it all the time, but often their accents are so off that it’s laughable. I’d be embarrassed to sing an Italian opera in Italy if the audience was laughing at me.”
She took a sip of her wine. “Of course, when you’re homeschooled, you just have to meet the state’s minimum standards. Beyond that, you can study anything you want. Having an urbane multi-lingual daughter was something my mother valued. And I’ve been traveling to these countries all my life.”
Over dinner, I asked, “What’s so special about Vienna? You’ve been excited about this performance ever since the tour was announced.”
“Wait until you see the opera house,” Cecily said. “It’s incredible. The acoustics are absolutely top notch. But it’s also the only place I’ve ever sung a whole opera. Over Christmas break when I was eighteen, I was cast as Susanna in The Marriage of Figaro at the State Opera House. I sang six performances.” Her face took on a far-away beatific expression. “It was wonderful. It was probably the best time in my whole life until I met you.”
While I never got tired of hearing that sort of thing from her, it always embarrassed me a little. Even more so when Myra said, “You have a brother, don’t you? Is he as wonderful as you are?”
I chuckled, but Cecily barked out a laugh, choked, and coughed into her napkin.
When she finally got her breath, she said with an evil grin, “Oh, Myra, Jared is far more handsome. Would you like to join his harem? It seems he always has room for one more.”
Later, when we got back to our room, I teased her. “So, you think Jared is more handsome than I am?”
She removed her dress and tossed it on the bed. Walking over to me, she put her arms around my waist, kissed me on the chest, and then pressed her body against me.
“You’re handsome enough that you can have any woman you want,” she said. “It’s like if you said that Myra is prettier than I am. It’s true, but it doesn’t mean I’m not pretty. You’re a lot more than your looks, but sometimes I’m not sure if Jared is.”
I kissed her, and then said with a grin, “Well, I’m glad you don’t see me as just another pretty face.”
“Oh, your face is very pretty. I never get tired of looking at you. It’s sort of a bonus, because that’s not why I love you.”
She and Myra took me out ‘clubbing’, as they called it, a couple of nights. When I was in college, we called it bar hopping. I did think it was kind of funny that Cecily thought I had never been in a bar that didn’t play cowboy music. I had to admit, it was a huge boost to my ego to walk into a bar with those two on my arms.
The second evening we went dancing, we were met by camera flashes as we came out of a club. There had been photographers outside our hotel earlier that day, and also outside the opera house when Cecily showed up for rehearsal.
“Damn, I hate those vultures!” Myra said.
“If you can’t stand the heat, don’t hang around with celebrities,” Cecily said through gritted teeth. Then she struck a pose for them, opening her coat so they could see her dress, turning slightly to the side so her breasts showed better, and flashing them a smile.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she called.
Myra and I grabbed her and pulled her into the limo. She laughed like a crazy woman, saying, “I wonder what kind of bullshit they’ll print tomorrow.”
The following morning, we were still in bed when Cecily got a text from Myra with an internet link. Opening her laptop, Cecily typed in the URL and stared at the screen for a minute. She burst out laughing.
“What is it?” I asked.
She was laughing so hard she couldn’t answer, so she pushed the screen around so I could read it. I noted it was the website of the tabloid that printed the falling-down-drunk story.
‘Cecille Buchanan, the darling diva and new superstar of the classical music set, is continuing to party her way across Europe. In Vienna this week, her constant companion is a mystery European hunk who, according to hotel staff, is sharing her hotel room. Seen here, they danced until dawn at Vienna’s hottest nightclub before her limo whisked them away. There has been no official word from the 23 year old Miss Buchanan’s camp about the state of her engagement to Colorado rancher Jake McGarrity, but knowledgeable sources note that she has not been wearing her engagement ring.’
The pictures with the story included several of her and me together, including going into and coming out of the club, and a close up of her left hand as she got in the limo.
“You haven’t been wearing a ring since you left Colorado,” I said. It also irked me that we left the club just after midnight, not dawn.
“Oh, my God, I’ve been busted!” she gasped between bouts of laughter. “How am I ever going to explain this to Jake?”
The story sparked one thing for me, however. “Cecily, you’re twenty-three?”
“Yes,” she said, still smiling but with a questioning look on her face.
“When is your birthday?”
She instantly sobered. “Oh, I guess I never did tell you that. July tenth.”
I tried to think back to what we were doing that day. “Was that the day ...”
She leaned forward and kissed me. “Yes, that’s the day I said I was moving out. Th
e day we told each other that we loved each other and made love the first time. It was the best birthday of my life.”
Marcus arranged for Cecily’s performance to be recorded and videotaped. They would be selling both the recording as well as the video, and he was in negotiations to have the video run on public broadcasting TV stations.
For the performance, she wore a red evening gown almost exactly like the teal one she wore to dinner my first night in Vienna. Myra and a hairdresser did her hair in what they called an inverse French braid, which was very elegant. She looked spectacular, and in the State Opera House, with its five tiers of balconies surrounding the theater, everyone had a good seat. Seven cameras were set up, and I could imagine what the editing would be like.
As in Washington, Myra and I sat front row center, but that was still fairly far from the stage since the orchestra pit was very wide and shallow. I was glad that I had several chances that week to roam around while Cecily was rehearsing, because the hall itself was spectacular. There literally wasn’t a bad seat in the house, even from the top tier of the fifth balcony. I was sure it would make a fantastic video.
While her performance in Washington had more passion, from a technical standpoint the performance in Vienna was flawless. And when shouts of ‘encore’ at the end rang through the chamber, she came back on stage with her harp.
I didn’t understand what she said, because I don’t speak German, but whatever it was, the crowd resumed their seats expectantly.
“Oh, my God,” Myra whispered to me. “She’s going to do something she just wrote this week, something she’s never performed before.”
“When did she have time to write something?” I whispered back. “I’ve been with her every minute.”
The prelude on the harp was beautiful, cascading waterfalls of sound, and then she began to sing. It was a love song, in English, sung in high operatic style. Stunned, I listened to the lyrics,
hearing my name ring through the chamber as the final line, “Jacob, I love you,” died out. It was a groundbreaking performance. In the classical world, no one gets on stage solo and sings while they play, let alone play their own compositions.
I wasn’t ashamed at the tears that I felt running down my cheeks.
~~~
Chapter 22
Cecily
A week in Paris with Jake was everything I dreamed it would be. Without any publicity about my itinerary, and staying at a small boutique hotel, we completely avoided the press. We walked around town, did all the touristy things, saw the museums, and saw a performance at the opera house. For the first time, I had him all to myself with no schedules, no work, no responsibilities and no one else that we needed to please.
On the plane, he admitted that he enjoyed the vacation, and would like to see more of Europe.
“Then you’ll come with me for the fall tour?” I asked hopefully.
“No, honey. I can’t be gone that long. But I’ll come and hear you a couple of times, and we can plan another vacation if you wish.”
“Jake, couldn’t you hire a manager for the bar?”
“Of course I could, but I don’t want to. Cecily, touring and performing is your dream, not mine. I could have sold the bar if I wanted to do something else or go somewhere else. I’m happy there. I’ll keep our home warm and waiting for you.”
“Our home, Jake?”
“I hope so. I hope you’ll stay with me now that you’re rich and famous.”
I thought about that for a while. It didn’t matter to me where I lived, as long as it was with him. After this year, I was committed to spending half my time performing and recording. That meant half my time away from him.
“If it’s our home,” I ventured, “can I build something there?”
He cocked his head and looked at me with a look of amusement on his face. “What do you want to build?”
“A recording studio. I could do most of my recording there, and Jared could use it, too. If I need an orchestra, I can go to Denver. But that would keep me home more. As it is now, I recorded that album in California, we’re going to record my country album and the band’s album in Nashville, and Marcus wants me to record a classical album in New York. I could be spending all that time in my own bed.”
He smiled. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Can you afford it?”
“I’ve been checking,” I said. “It’s really not that expensive. We can build and equip a really good one for a couple of hundred thousand.”
“Well, let’s get started on it when we get back,” he said.
He called an architect friend of his when we got back to Greeley, and the guy came out and talked to me. Then he went away to do some research and work on plans. Something I hadn’t known was that Jared had a degree in structural engineering. When I told him what I planned, he jumped in and took over the project. Together, we researched equipment and acoustics.
It was sort of a revelation. In spite of being around him a lot, I really didn’t know him very well. I had always seen him as a womanizing party boy, but he was smart and had a serious side.
I barely had time to unpack before I was off again to Nashville to record my country album with Jared’s band. And the band also recorded their own album. We wrapped both of them in three weeks, then I had two weeks at home before I started my solo tour promoting my pop album. Twenty cities in sixty days. At most of the stops, I opened for more well-known acts.
Myra called on my second day back in Greeley.
“Cecily, your lawyer should be sending you amended contracts to sign,” she said. “Tim and Marcus are kicking back part of their cuts, and if you agree, I’ll be working for you from now on.”
“Oh? Are you okay with that?” I asked.
“I worked for you this winter. I mean you weren’t paying me directly, but about ninety percent of what I did was directly for you. Are you okay with it?”
“So I’ll be responsible for your travel and living expenses? And how are you going to get paid when I’m not touring?” I asked. “You were a full-time employee of Marcus’s company, weren’t you?”
“I can keep your schedule, answer your fan mail, play secretary, maintain your website, coordinate your travel, you know, whatever you need done.” I could hear a hopeful, pleading note in her voice.
“How much am I paying you?”
She hesitated. “Marcus was paying me sixty thousand,” she finally said. “I was hoping I could talk you into a hundred.”
“Are you willing to move to Colorado?” I asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“Have you ever been to Greeley, Colorado?” I couldn’t imagine a place more different from New York.
“No,” she said in a small voice. “It’s near Denver, isn’t it?”
“About an hour away. Come on out, and we’ll talk about it,” I said.
Jake and I discussed it that night.
“She could probably live in Denver,” Jake said after I explained everything. “It’s not New York, either, but for a city girl, it’s a lot closer to what she’s used to than Greeley. Does she know how to drive?”
“I think so,” I said. “She grew up in a suburb of Pittsburg, so she probably does.”
Myra flew in on Saturday, rented a car, and drove to Greeley. We put her in Mary’s room, and I took her to the Roadhouse that night. It hadn’t really occurred to me before how much Myra and Jeri looked alike. They were of similar height, their hair was the same color, and if Jeri was five years younger and twenty pounds lighter, they could have been twins. Watching them together that night, I understood why Jake always seemed so uncomfortable around Myra. He must have been seeing Jeri when he was in love with her.
Tim, the pop agent, put together a backup band for me. Electric bass, rhythm guitar, electric piano, and a violin. I didn’t meet the musicians or get to play with them until the week before the Denver concert. I picked them from recordings he sent me and interviews I conducted over the phone. They flew into Denver and cam
e to Greeley on Sunday, and we practiced at the Roadhouse during the day and played in the evenings.
By Friday night, we sounded pretty good together. It was our only end-to-end dress rehearsal, and we played two hour-long sets. I did about half a dozen songs completely solo, and I could do them all that way if I needed to.
After we finished playing, I ate dinner with Jake, then got back on the stage and took requests, the way I used to do every evening. I knew most of the people in the audience, and it felt like coming home.
When I finished with my final set, I walked over to the table where Jeri, Myra and Terrie, the violin player with my band, were sitting. It was kind of an odd feeling. I had never had girlfriends. I considered at least two of these women as friends. I wasn’t sure about Terrie yet.
“I never get tired of listening to you sing,” Jeri said, drawing me into a quick hug. “Damn, girl, you sound like you swallowed an angel.”
I laughed. “I’m no angel. He’s over there behind the bar.”
They all turned and looked at Jake.
“Listening to her, you’d think he walked on water,” Myra said with a laugh.
Jeri shot a glance at me, and then looked at Myra. “Everyone has their own savior,” she said, then looked back at me and captured my eyes. “There’s love, and sometimes there are things beyond love.”
I licked my lips, not really sure what to say. He was everything to me, and I brought him nothing but trouble. I couldn’t even stay home with him like I should.
Suddenly I realized that the table had gone quiet and somber. “I’ll buy the next round,” I said, jumping up and walking over to the bar to tell Jake.
I started the tour in Denver so Jake could come. So did Kathy, Jeri, Jared and all the band members, and a bunch of my friends from Greeley. Jake posted promos for the concert all over town and he closed the bar that night.
We opened for a group that primarily consisted of two lesbian women, though they had a backup band. They had several top hits and several albums and had been recording and touring for at least ten or fifteen years. Tim hoped my music would resonate with their fans.
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