by Wicks, Becky
The heat of Conor's hands on me as I grip my glass freezes me to the spot till he takes the drink from me, leads me back to the music room. He sits me on the couch, kneels down in front of me as I sink into the cushions. ‘You can talk to me,’ he says, putting the drink down on the floor and fixing me with a look that says I probably can. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘Just play,’ I reply. His close proximity isn’t helping my heart rate.
‘You sure?’ His big hand is on my knee over my dress and he looks concerned. He’s always so damn nice to me. I like him too much.
‘Just play,’ I say again, firmer now. He stands up with a mock salute and sits back at the piano. I watch the muscles flex across his back as he straightens on the stool. I’m focussing on anything and everything but the piano, even though it’s right in front of me, bringing it all back.
‘I had these lyrics, some of them at least, going round in my head since yesterday,’ he says. ‘I know we’ve only done up-tempo stuff till now, but I think we should add something a little slower to our set for the audition, you know? Maybe you can add to it.’
I nod my head and he starts to play, concentrate on his voice as it floats out and strangles my heart like it always does. Like I need that right now.
You count silver linings like they’re pennies in a jar
Store them up and dish ‘em out when times get hard
All your quotes of inspiration
Read with faith as strong as steel
Oh if I could only tell you how I feel
‘Cause sometimes words can’t heal baby
Sometimes the sun don’t shine
But what if a storm's what we need, baby
And we shouldn't try to hide
When the thunder and lightning
Are striking again
We could race for shelter, we could wish it away
Or we could be crazy
And dance in the rain
Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain
I’m dancing with you
Let it rain
‘Wow,’ I breathe, scanning his eyes for a moment as he looks up from the keys. I don’t miss the references to my book, The Secret, if those words of inspiration are what he’s referring to. I can’t be sure but my cheeks are blazing hot.
‘What’s it about?’ I say as he scans my face. I break the connection on purpose and pull my eyes away. He pats the stool next to him. I stand up, move to his side, but I don’t sit down.
‘Whatever you want it to be about,’ he tells me. ‘It needs you. Another verse, harmonies, I’m thinking the bridge needs to be…’
‘Can we do it on the guitar?’
He pats the space next to him again. When I don’t move he cocks his head at me. ‘Why don’t you like the piano?’
‘I don’t… I used to love it,’ I say after a moment as panic spirals round my heart and throat, almost choking me. I'm ridiculous, I know it, but I can't breathe.
‘Sit down.’ Conor moves over more on the piano stool, reaches for my arm this time and I have no choice but to sit. ‘Piano, meet Stephanie. Stephanie, meet piano.’ He grins lopsidedly, playing a random tune in D major. ‘Piano likes you!’
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to control my heart palpitations as the memories of that day crash over me like a tsunami. ‘I just prefer the guitar,’ I stutter.
Breathe.
It’s just a stupid instrument.
‘Ah, but the piano is a different species,’ he carries on, almost in my ear. His whispers set my pulse racing harder. ‘You know, someone told me once that the white keys represent happiness, all the good stuff. The laughter, right?’ Conor runs his fingers quickly up and down the white keys, stops abruptly, looks to me. ‘And the black keys? They represent the sad times, the sorrow, the pain.’ He does the same on the black keys now, slowly, a different melancholy sound that makes me shudder involuntarily. ‘But you can’t forget,’ he says, bumping my shoulder gently, ‘they all mix up together to tell your story. You’re a little bit of everything at the end of the day. You’re a song.’
Get Before He Was A Secret now!
Acknowledgements
I was moved to write this book after a trip to Sri Lanka in late 2014 - it felt like everyone I spoke to there over the course of one month had a story about how the tsunami affected them, or someone they knew. Also, on my travels to Southeast Asia I met a couple of people who'd been involved in the tsunami on their holiday to Phi Phi in Thailand. I started wondering how it must have affected them over the years since it happened; how brave they were to even travel after something like that!
In order to start writing this book I watched pretty much every video about that day and the event itself, on YouTube. I watched every documentary I could find and read every article and survivor story to ensure I got my facts straight. It was my goal to write something as realistic as possible, to make the severity of the Boxing Day tsunami as clear as I could in a work of fiction and do justice to the survivors.
I would like to pay tribute to everyone who lost their lives in the tsunami and everyone whose brave survival story inspired me in so many ways. The journey you've taken is truly incredible and if I've even come close to imagining what you went through it's a miracle. Thank you.
About the Author
I'm Becky and my first published piece was a poem about a Christmas angel in the local newspaper, back in my English hometown when I was 10 (my dad submitted it and he was so proud - I was so embarrassed!)
I went on to never study writing. I didn't want anyone to tell me how to do it, because then it wouldn't have been fun anymore, right? Instead I just wrote and wrote and wrote, till eventually I think people started printing my stuff, just to get me off their back!
I landed a three-book deal with HarperCollins when I was 29 and living in Sydney. They published three funny travel memoirs about my time living and working in Dubai, Bali and South America - you can read all the stories in Burqalicious, Balilicious and Latinalicious if you like. The decision to self-publish was an experiment really, to see how much I enjoyed writing fiction, and how much I could do on my own. I'm loving it so far, but having your lovely support really means a lot, and reviews really help.
Don't forget to review this book on Amazon!
For book news and general silliness follow me on Twitter @bex_wicks and on my Facebook Author Page. You can also sign up to my mailing list on my blog as I plan to write lots more books! Hit me up at beckywicks.com
Table of Contents
ISLA
BEN
FOUR WEEKS LATER, ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA , ONE WEEK LATER
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
ISLA
BEN
IZZY
BEN, THREE WEEKS LATER
IZZY
BEN
IZZY
Before He Was Famous (Starstruck #1)
Before He Was Gone (Starstruck #2)
Before He Was A Secret (Starstruck #3)
About the Author
th friends
