Bugger it, there I’d gone and let the thought loose. Depression weighed me down in my chair, and I fiddled with my bag, trying not to let it get me down that I seemed to have actually lost ground. The dull headache I’d been stuck with all day throbbed, making my skull feel like it was about to explode, and I was, without warning, almost sick with fatigue. The previous night’s partying and lack of sleep was still trying to bite a real chunk out of me. No one to blame for that but myself, but I wished I’d had time to get some water. Anna, worried about being late, had hustled us in from the car park too fast for me to think of anything like that. As the seats slowly filled around us, I realised we would have had time, but the hall was almost full, now, and I guessed my moment had passed. I had money in the purse resting on my thighs, but I didn’t fancy trying to wriggle past all the people who’d taken the seats in the long row either side of us.
‘My brother plays the cello,’ Anna said.
‘Really?’ What the hell was I supposed to say to that? I wasn’t even sure what a cello was. Drums, guitar, piano, even a violin, yes. Cello, no. But I wasn’t about to ask.
‘He’s exceptionally gifted. My whole family is musical.’
‘Really?’ I said again. ‘What do you play?’
Anna shifted in her chair, tucking her phone away in the glittery little purse sitting on her lap. She shrugged, and dropped her bag on the floor at her feet.
‘I don’t. Not now.’
I looked at her quickly, wondering, but she avoided my gaze, staring off towards the stage as though she’d forgotten I was even there. I was considering asking the obvious question when the lights dimmed and the chatting and fidgeting sounds all around us died away.
I waited in silence while a woman in a floor length Oscars sort of dress came out on the stage and droned on and on into a microphone about how exciting it was to be able to present such a wonderful young talent. If she was so excited, I wished she’d get on with it.
I glanced at Anna, wondering what it felt like to hear someone saying that kind of thing about your brother. Was she proud, jealous, over it? As a first step I tried — and failed — to imagine hearing someone say that kind of stuff about Troy or Brian. I mean, the things they were good at tended to attract the attention of the cops, and not in a way that earned them any admiration. I imagined that detective, the hot one who arrested Brian last time, standing in a spotlight in a fancy suit, saying ‘Brian is so gifted at fencing stolen Commodore parts’ or, ‘Troy has a real talent for selling dope’ and had to swallow a snort of laughter.
My phone beeped, and I almost leapt out of my chair. My whole body went hot, as humiliation flowed through my blood, and I shoved my hand into my purse, groping for the rotten thing.
‘Christ, Jess,’ Anna hissed, but she sounded like she was half laughing. Trust her to think this was funny. I swore, again, that this was the last time I’d roll over when she wanted a club-buddy. She could bloody well go by herself next time, because with her there always seemed to be something going on that I could sense but not understand. I didn’t smoke pot anymore, I’d seen how paranoid and bitchy it made Brian, but I couldn’t tell if it was just lingering paranoia or whether Anna did have some other agenda. It didn’t actually make much sense that she wanted to hang out with me. I wondered, again, as I scrabbled to shut off that ear-drilling ringtone, what she really knew about me and Jay.
I finally managed to stab my finger on a button that shut my stupid phone up. Face flaming, conscious again of people staring at me, I pulled it just far enough out of my bag to switch it off, without bothering to read the message. There was an extremely low chance it was from anyone I wanted to hear from right now, especially in front of Anna.
I shoved my phone to the bottom of my bag, sliding down in my seat a little, trying to be less noticeable. My stomach fluttered queasily and I swallowed against a little ripple of nausea. Hangover or embarrassment, or more likely an unhappy mixture of both. I wished Anna’s cello-prodigy brother would hurry up and get his arse onto the stage; the sooner that was over with, the sooner I could get the hell out of here. Had to say, my interest in going clubbing, or anywhere other than straight home to bed — and soon — had zeroed.
All around me people suddenly started clapping and I hurried to join in, wondering why they were cheering when nothing had happened yet.
Then a guy in a suit came out onto the stage carrying a bow and a massively oversized violin type of instrument. I wondered how you held that thing to play it; that guy must be strong. Or maybe you played it standing at it or something, I’d seen those on concerts on TV.
‘Ladies and gentleman, let me introduce Sebastien Bell!’ exclaimed the woman in the actressy dress, waving her arm at the guy with the violin-on-steroids. And so I figured out then that this must be Anna’s brother, who was obviously not little and not a kid. So that meant the thing he carried must therefore be a cello.
Sebastien (posh name, that) came forward on the stage and sat down on a small stool, flicking the tails of his suit coat out behind him with a twist of his wrist. Nice move. I wondered if he practised that. I realised I had seen a cello before, in a Russell Crowe movie my brothers liked. In that movie it’d been played by that English actor who’d been in A Knight’s Tale with Heath Ledger. RIP Heath, wish you were still here.
Anna’s brother settled the cello between his legs, holding it in his arms almost like he was hugging it, and then he lifted his right hand and angled his elbow, and brought the bow around to the strings. It seemed as though everyone in the audience stopped breathing, and moments later, I understood why.
It was so beautiful. I had no idea. The sounds that came out of the cello were so rich, and deep, such a surprise when I’d been expecting it to sound thin and shrill, like when those annoying bloody kids played violin outside the mall, busking for coins.
I sat there in the dark with the skin on my arms skittering, my heart pounding. I think I forgot to breathe.
And I couldn’t take my eyes from Sebastien Bell. We had good seats, it wasn’t like when you go to a concert and have a choice of watching tiny stick figures on the stage or blurry close ups on the video screens. I was close enough to be able to see him play, to watch the way his hand seemed to flow over the strings, the dip and glide of the bow, sometimes so fast it was more like a flashing blur. Even though he was sitting down, he played not just with his hands or even his arms, but with his whole body, swaying with the cello almost as though he danced with it. I could see the sweat start to shine on his forehead and then run down from his dark hair onto his face, and I understood my initial thought that he’d have to be strong or fit to play that instrument was not wrong.
He started playing some music I recognised, and it might have been from that Russell Crowe movie or maybe I’d heard it on the iPod at the café. Such beautiful music, and I caught myself as my body tried to move with those astonishing rising notes. I froze, and blinked, embarrassed to be so swept up, grateful to be sitting in darkness, as I clutched my bag in my lap, stunned almost breathless.
When the lights came up at the end of the concert, I told Anna I was busting for the loo and made a run for it. I was in desperate need of getting to the ladies, but mainly because I knew I’d have eyeliner and mascara smeared all over my face and if Anna gave me any shit over it I probably would give in to my earlier desire to punch her. I was still too dehydrated to need to pee that badly, but I went anyway; judging by the stampede of women heading the same way as me, if I didn’t go then I’d be waiting for an hour.
Then I washed my hands and face, wiping away the worst of the black streaks. Without makeup remover I could only do so much, but at least by the time I headed back out I was only a little panda-like around the eyes, rather than a dead ringer for the Joker. I didn’t want to talk to Anna, I didn’t want to go to the club or even out for food. I just wanted to go home and shower and put on PJs and curl up in bed, and think about that amazing music, that amazing talent, until I fell asleep. What I wouldn’
t give to be that good at something. My throat was still a bit choked up, and I felt like the slightest thing might make me cry. Music could get to me sometimes, made me ache for something I couldn’t really describe. It just made my head hurt worse.
Anna was lurking when I emerged. She grabbed my hand and started towing me through the crowd.
‘Come and meet my parents.’
‘Oh, no, Anna, come on,’ I protested, trying to dig my feet into the carpet, but Anna was taller, a gym junkie and really determined. I clomped after her rather than make an even bigger spectacle of myself.
‘Mum, Dad, this is my friend Jess.’ A tall, elegant and beautifully dressed couple turned, breaking off their conversation as Anna butted in.
‘Hi,’ I murmured, my face getting hot.
‘Hello,’ they said, almost together, and gave me vague sort of smiles and I smiled back and threaded my hands together around my little bag and wished for a smoke.
They were both dark haired, like their daughter and their prodigy son. Actually I was amazed at how much Anna looked like her mother, a real mini-me. Anna’s Mum had on a gorgeous floor length deep-blue dress, and small perfectly matched pearls circled her slim wrists and neck, delicate drops dangling from her ears. Her hair was expertly and expensively streaked with caramels and reds so that it added richness and movement without screaming fake.
Jay’s twin sister Michelle, who’s still basically my best friend despite the ups and downs me and Jay have had, is a hairdresser. She uses me as her model for some of the competitions she goes in, and she’s taught me a lot about hair. The flaming crimson my hair was now was one of the most tame things she’d done to me. But still — and unlike Mrs Bell, whose hair would be perfect for any occasion — mine really only looked right when I dressed up for clubbing. And in this environment, even with full club kit and makeup, probably not so much.
‘Ah, here’s Sebastien,’ Anna’s Dad said.
‘Thank God,’ I said, and my face went from overly warm to flaming hot when the three of them looked at me in surprise.
‘Uh, he’s so amazingly talented, I can’t wait to meet him,’ I blurted. Yes, sometimes I do only open my mouth to change feet, as Mum says. In this, if nothing else, she is on the money.
But Sebastien’s parents just nodded and looked pleased and proud, as if people said that kind of thing all the time. Maybe they did.
‘You played beautifully,’ Mrs Bell said immediately, and I swallowed a nervous startled giggle as she swamped her tall son in a massive hug, and smacked a kiss on him. All I could see of him was his back. His broad, very muscly back, I saw, thanks to the sweat- soaked white shirt clinging to his skin. I thought for sure he’d get all stiff and embarrassed, but he didn’t. He just hugged his Mum back, and laid a kiss on her smooth cheek.
My stomach tightened, envy curling through me. Imagine having parents that were so excited to see you that they didn’t care about embarrassing themselves. Imagine having both parents. And imagine being so comfortable with them that extreme public affection didn’t embarrass you.
I tried to imagine it, but failed. My father had been gone for months by the time I was born. Something Troy blamed me for whenever we had a fight.
‘Good concert, although I thought you seemed a little off in the first few bars of the Bach prelude,’ Anna said.
‘I was a bit tight, wasn’t I?’ Sebastien said, emerging from his mother’s hug to receive a slap on the shoulder from his grinning father.
I smiled anxiously, shifting my weight from foot to foot, as self-conscious as the Bells were not. No wonder Anna was so ballsy in going after what she wanted. I’d been a bit surprised that she’d fit in so effortlessly with everyone around the street. They didn’t generally take well to outsiders, especially ones that were as obviously from somewhere else as Anna. But she just sailed in, oblivious to any of the digs aimed at her, and she’d won them over. Well, not everybody liked her, I suppose, considering Brian’s reaction, but they all tolerated her being around, at least. I wondered if Anna knew, or cared.
I became aware of the sudden lull. If I’d thought it was awkward while they weren’t noticing me, it was nothing compared to what it was like once they did remember I was standing there.
Ever read that saying about a pregnant pause and thought it was some writer showing off? Nope. This one dragged on so long it definitely felt like someone could have given birth.
‘Anna?’ Mrs Bell said, with a slight head-tilt in my direction.
‘Huh? Oh! Sorry.’ Anna flapped her hand in my direction. ‘Sebastien, this is Jess Carter.’
I put a big smile on as I turned towards him, eager to get this over and done with, say Hi, tick the boxes so I could hopefully nudge Anna into getting going. If she seemed inclined to stay with her family, that was me let off from clubbing at least, and surely it wouldn’t be any trouble to get a cab at this joint, although the thought of dipping into my pathetic savings for that really pissed me — oh my God, he was beautiful.
‘Hello Jess,’ this utter god said, his smoky blue-grey eyes staring into mine. I’d thought the seats we had at the concert were good, but they were obviously far enough back for me to seriously underestimate the wow-factor. Like always when I was confronted by an unexpectedly hot guy, I was suddenly thirteen again and almost speechlessly shy.
‘Hi,’ I squeaked, dry mouthed. Why the hell did I have to meet someone like this when I felt like utter crap and my makeup was shot to hell? ‘Nice to meet you,’ I managed to add, hoping I didn’t sound as stupid as I felt.
‘Me too,’ he said, and he continued to stare at me in a way that would have seemed really rude, except there was nothing angry or unfriendly in his eyes. Actually, if anything, quite the opposite. Once again, I couldn’t look away from Sebastien Bell. Only this time, he was eying me back. At least, I hoped that’s what he was doing, and not thinking how much I looked like a cartoon villain.
Anna shuffled restlessly and made a big to-do about glancing at the exquisite silver designer watch on her wrist. I wondered if the show was for her parents, or for me. The watch had been a gift from Jay. Only, I knew it was a knock-off, and had cost him twenty bucks from one of his dodgy mates.
‘Well then, I think we’ll be off. We just stopped by to see you play, Sebastien.’
Sebastien held my gaze when he answered his sister. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Clubbing,’ Anna said brightly. ‘Wanna come with?’
Even I could tell she was just being a smart arse and didn’t expect him to go out with us, and I didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry. He was totally hot, and he was still looking at me like he didn’t think I was too bad, either. But that look was a bit, well, intense. He rattled me, for some reason, this tall musical genius with the stare I could not look away from. It was as though he was throwing down some kind of challenge, and I had no idea yet what it was.
So I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about it when he grinned, and still without taking his gaze from mine, answered his sister.
‘Sure,’ he said, ‘I’d love to.’
Chapter 3
Anna didn’t seem to suffer from the same mixed feelings as I did. If her driving and her stiff-jawed silence was anything to go by, she was 100% furious. I thought she was going to kill all three of us, the way she threw the car around on the way to the club, and as soon as we were through the doors of Nikki’s she stalked away from us and disappeared into the crowd. I didn’t understand why she was so pissed and I definitely didn’t know what game she was playing at. I was more and more convinced she was playing at something — she was always running too hot and cold for it to be anything else.
‘Don’t worry about Anna,’ Sebastien said, bending down to speak into my ear so I could hear him above the music. ‘She’s always like this when she doesn’t get her way.’ His breath blew my hair against my neck and I shivered. I rubbed my hands over my arms, as though I was cold, hoping he wouldn’t realise the effect he had on me. I�
��d been hyper aware of him the entire hair-raising trip here, imagining I could feel his eyes on me every second.
‘Let’s get a drink,’ he said, and next moment his hand closed around mine, engulfing it. He wrapped long, surprisingly rough fingers around mine, and tugged, and I followed him towards the bar.
I followed him, trying not to bump into any of the drunks that already had a head start on us. I still wasn’t entirely sure coming along to the club had been the best choice, and the quiver in my stomach when he’d taken my hand was a complication I probably didn’t need. He just overwhelmed me for some reason. Sure, he was older, coming up on twenty two if I’d got it right from the lady in the fancy dress when she introduced him, but he only had a couple of years on me, and maybe even less depending on when his birthday was. And anyway I was used to hanging out with a much older crowd. Jay was almost twenty five, the same age as Troy. Most of the others were around that age, and some of them were into their thirties. I was the baby, part of the scene because of who I was related to, and who I went out with. Past tense, I reminded myself.
‘What do you want?’ Sebastien asked me, as we joined the people waiting at the bar to be served. It wasn’t too bad yet, only about half a dozen or so. By midnight the crush would be five or six rows deep; it would keep two of the bouncers fully occupied to stop queue jumpers, too pissed to realise what a stupid move it was, from getting the shit kicked out of them.
‘Oh, no, really, I’m fine.’ I knew better than to let a guy buy me a drink, no matter how hot he was.
‘Oh, no, really, what do you want to drink?’ He grinned, and I almost swallowed my tongue. Seriously, dangerously hot.
‘Do you mind if I just get a water?
He pulled a puzzled face. ‘Why would I mind?’
‘It’s a rip-off here.’ It was expensive, but bottled water was also safe from being spiked. And even though it was five dollars a bottle, it somehow carried less obligation that alcohol. And I was thirsty.
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