Rubbing slower, I bring myself down, feeling pleasantly relaxed, then drag my hand up my body. Pulling the blankets up around my neck I roll onto my side, closing my eyes and imagining that Damian will be back in a second to slide into bed behind me before we both fall asleep.
It’s a lovely dream. Too bad I doubt it’ll ever happen again.
I keep checking my phone as I wait on my plane. We landed about thirty minutes ago at Felt’s Field, the private airfield near Spokane. Lauren and Damian were supposed to be at the tiny airport already, but they still haven’t boarded.
“Relax,” Natalie says from the seat across from me, where she’s reading on her iPad. “You know they have to do all the stuff they do to the plane first. Lauren texted you that they were here before we even landed. They’ll be here any minute.”
I toss my phone on the couch beside me. “I know, I know. I’m just …”
Natalie glances up and gives me a smile. “Everything will be fine. They’re your friends, right? They’ll be happy to see you.”
I nod, biting my thumbnail again. It’s not Lauren I’m worried about. She screamed her excitement when I called and told her I wanted to pick her up and fly her to Boise for the competition. “I’ve never been on a private plane before! You’re the coolest friend ever,” were her exact words.
Smiling at the memory, I force my hands to my lap. Damian’s reaction is the one that has me nervous. This will be the first time that my star status is really shoved in his face. Into his lived reality. It’s one thing for him to hear about it over the phone or see random pictures of me in the media, but it’s another thing altogether for him to experience it for himself.
Given his bad reaction when he found out that I’m Charlotte James, and the fact that he always seems uncomfortable when money comes up, specifically the fact that I have lots of it, I’m not sure how he’ll be when he gets here.
“We’re opening the door for your guests to board now.”
I look up at Jane, my flight attendant, and give her a smile. “Thank you.”
I guess I’ll find out what Damian thinks very soon.
I’ve never noticed how long it takes for people to board a plane before. Or I’ve never been so anxious about it, making each second feel like hours.
But they finally arrive. Lauren climbs the stairs first, bursting into the cabin with a squeal of excitement. She throws her arms wide and heads straight for me, her heavy violin case knocking against us both as she wraps me in a tight hug.
“I’m so happy to see you. And this is so awesome. I never would’ve asked you to do this, but I definitely won’t turn down such an amazing offer. The only thing that would make it better is if Gabby could come too!”
Laughing, I hug her back. “It all worked out great. It’s about time to do another of my pop-up shows, so I’m doing one in Boise on Saturday night. Then I’ll fly you guys back on Sunday before heading home.”
Lauren pulls back, eyes wide. “We get to come to your show too?”
“Of course! I wouldn’t bring you along and then make you sit in the hotel on your own. That would be crappy.”
With a happy laugh, Lauren hugs me again, this one quick, then she turns and actually looks around. “This is awesome. Look, Damian! We’re living the high life now!”
I look past her to where Damian stands, looking uncertain, his cello case still on his back. He smiles at Lauren before his eyes find mine, and his smile seems to grow warmer, less indulgent than the one he gave to our friend. “We sure are,” he says in answer to Lauren. “Hi, Charlie. Good to see you.”
Stepping around Lauren, I press up on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He surprises me by hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me in for a hug. I end up circling my arms under his shoulders, since his case prevents me from hugging him the way I like. But I’ll take it. Eyes closed, I breathe him in, happy to be in his arms again.
Jane clears her throat, and Damian releases me. “I can show you where to store your instruments.”
Damian and Lauren both follow her to stow their cases in a closet in the back of the plane, then come back and settle into their seats. Lauren sits next to me on the couch, Natalie occupies the chair across from her, and Damian is in the other chair across from me. I introduce them to Natalie, and we all fall into an easy conversation about the concerto competition and the winner’s concert in Boise in May.
“When do they announce the winner?” Natalie asks.
“I’m pretty sure at the end of the day on Friday,” Damian answers. He looks at Natalie, but his eyes move back to me as soon as he finishes speaking. That’s the way it’s been since he boarded. He looks at whoever he’s speaking to when he answers, but his eyes always come back to me. That fact warms me from the inside, and I give him a smile. He smiles back. And it’s not until Lauren clears her throat that I realize silence has fallen around us as we’ve had our private moment.
Lauren’s gaze is amused as it bounces between Damian and me, and I look down, smoothing the hem of my shirt on my leg.
“So, Natalie,” Lauren says loudly, “how long have you worked with Charlie?”
Chapter Nineteen
Polychord: a harmonic structure consisting of two or more different chords (usually triads). The polychord should be spaced or orchestrated so that the identity of each chord is retained.
Damian
Lauren is chatting with Natalie, a pretty girl with a dark bob and a pert little nose who Charlie introduced as her assistant, about what it’s like to work with Charlie. I’m half listening, but mostly focused on Charlie. I want to talk to her. To ask her things. To sit next to her and have her lean against me. But Lauren’s sharing the couch with her. And I don’t want to do those things with an audience. Especially since we’re in this sort of limbo. We talk. We apparently kiss. A lot, if our last visit is anything to go by.
But that was in the privacy of her hotel room.
In public?
I don’t know what to do or how to act. I can’t tear my eyes away from Charlie, though. Lauren’s noticed, and I’m sure I’ll hear about it from her when we get back.
Natalie mentions something about the pop-up show this weekend, and I let out a low groan.
“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Charlie’s sitting up straighter, her voice concerned, almost panicky.
I shake my head. “No. I’m fine. It’s just about your show.”
Her face falls. “Oh. You don’t want to come?”
“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just that my sister made me promise to ask about getting tickets to your next show in the area, and I told her I would. She’s going to pitch a fit when she finds out I’m getting to see your show and didn’t tell her in advance.”
Charlie giggles. “Oh, well. I’ve been thinking about going to Seattle soon. How about I fly you both out for that show? Would that work?”
I flash her a grateful smile. “That sounds perfect. And that means I’ll get to see you again, too.”
When Charlie shivers a little, I realize I’ve let my voice drop into the range I use when we’re alone. In bed. My cheeks and ears get warm, and when I glance at Lauren, she’s watching Charlie and I with a look on her face like the cat that got the cream. All smug satisfaction. Like she somehow orchestrated this whole thing.
Natalie’s face is buried in her tablet, studiously ignoring all of us.
Charlie tucks her hair behind her ears, her eyes finding mine again. “I’ll send you home with an autographed picture. Natalie, can you go get one?”
Looking up, Natalie screws her face into a thoughtful frown. “Sure. I’ll see if Jane knows where they’re stowed.”
She gets up to talk to Jane, and I glance at Charlie. “Thank you. You don’t have to go to all that trouble, though. Getting to see you in Seattle will calm her down enough.”
Charlie shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. I like your sister. I’m happy to send her anything you think she might like. And it’ll be fun
to see her when you guys come to my show.”
I give her a smile, but have to swallow hard. It’s surreal that this is the same girl I took to Sunday dinners and Thanksgiving with my family. Part of me forgot that she knows my little sister, and I didn’t even think about Charlie wanting to see Carla again.
The clash of past and present, the talk of future plans, all of it is messing with my head. I don’t know what to make of any of it. And the day before an important performance is probably not the time to try to sort any of it out.
Charlie has us booked at a much nicer hotel than where Lauren and I had originally planned to stay. Lauren was the one who’d delivered the news after Music History one day this week, letting me know she’d canceled our reservations because Charlie had booked us all three in a different hotel.
“Wait, what?” I caught her arm, pulling her back because she was about to drop that bomb and walk away.
She arched one eyebrow and crossed her arms after I let her go. “Oh, did Charlie not mention that?”
“No. She did not.”
Lauren waved a hand. “She said she’ll take care of it. She can afford it, Damian. Don’t fret.” And with that, she’d waltzed off, leaving me stewing.
After the private plane lands, a black SUV with tinted windows is waiting for us. “Sorry the three of us have to squeeze together in the back,” Charlie says as we walk across the tarmac. “A limo would hold us all better, but it’s so ostentatious, and I don’t want to make my presence obvious, y’know?”
Lauren nods sagely, like she understands from personal experience. I snort and roll my eyes at her. But then I catch Charlie’s concerned look. “I get it,” I say quickly, offering a smile.
She smiles back, but it still looks off. God, this isn’t starting off well.
Once we’re all piled inside with Charlie in the middle, me behind Natalie in the passenger seat, and Lauren behind the driver, we head for our hotel. Keeping my voice low, I lean close to Charlie. “I really don’t mind reimbursing you for my room, at least.” I offered to cover my room before, sending Charlie a text as soon as Lauren walked away the day she told me the news.
Charlie’s big blue eyes are concerned as she looks up at me. “Why? Does it really bother you that much for me to pay? It’s really not a big deal.” She gives me a cheeky grin. “Besides, it’s a tax write-off. You guys are my special assistants for this show.”
Lauren claps on Charlie’s other side. “Yay! I’m so excited to see you perform again. Are you going to do the same set as last time?”
Charlie shakes her head. “No. The whole point is that every show is different. Not that I don’t repeat songs at all, but I try to do one or two that no one’s heard before, plus a mix of old favorites. It’ll be fun, though.”
“Charlie’s trying out her new ballad for the first time this weekend,” Natalie puts in from the front seat. I’m left blinking at the exchange, feeling completely out of the loop. I’ve never seen Charlie perform before. Ever. Not on the piano, not as Charlotte James. Saturday will be my first time.
Turning to look at me, Charlie offers a tentative smile. “I’m glad you’ll get to be there this time.”
“Me too.” I push aside my own trepidation about us, this weekend, her footing the bill—and holy shit, I don’t even want to know how big that bill is—and give her a reassuring smile. “Thanks for all of this. The plane, the hotel, two highly coveted spots for your show. All just to give us moral support.”
She shrugs like it’s no big deal and quickly looks down at her hands. “I’m happy to do it. It was time for another show anyway. Why not be there for my friends at the same time if I can?”
Lauren throws her arm around Charlie and drags her into a tight hug. “You’re the best, Charlie!”
Charlie laughs at Lauren’s enthusiastic display. I join in, but limit myself to a quick squeeze of her thigh. Once she’s free of Lauren’s grip, Charlie slides her arm through mine and lays her head on my shoulder. Lauren gives me a look over Charlie’s head, then faces out the window, but not before I see a satisfied smile on her face. I guess I have Lauren’s approval. Which makes me feel better than it has any right to. But she was pretty pissed at me when I wasn’t talking to Charlie. So she’d be within her rights as Charlie’s friend to want me out of the picture still.
Soon we’re at the hotel, and we wait in the car with the driver while Natalie takes care of check-in. Apparently this is standard procedure for Charlie. Weird.
Natalie hops back in the car, and we pull around to the back of the hotel where a man in a black suit meets us.
The driver gets out and unloads our luggage while Natalie goes to the door to talk to the suit. She waves from the door, and Charlie pats my leg. “That’s our signal. Let’s go. Natalie will give us our keys when we get in the elevator.”
Charlie puts on a pair of large black sunglasses and gets a baseball cap out of her purse, which she pulls low over her forehead. Lauren moves faster than I do, hopping out of her door, and Charlie’s right behind her, grabbing her rolling suitcase and making a beeline for Natalie and the door. Lauren’s not far behind, her case hanging off one shoulder and her suitcase rolling behind her. I scramble to catch up, hefting my case onto my back and grabbing my luggage, relying on my long legs to close the distance between me and the girls.
As soon as I pass through the door that Natalie’s still holding open for me, we follow the man in the suit down a nondescript hall to a set of elevators, the driver bringing up the rear.
All five of us pile into the elevator, and Natalie turns and starts passing out miniature folders emblazoned with the hotel’s logo containing our room keys. “Charlie and I are next to each other on one end of the hall. Lauren and Damian, you’re across from each other closer to the elevator. I made sure none of us were next to the ice machine, though, because that’s always the worst room. It’s loud, and I know you guys all need your rest. The hotel has been advised of your need to practice and merely request you stop before ten p.m.”
“Cool. I can manage that,” Lauren says. I just nod.
“Do you guys want to practice first or have dinner first?” Charlie asks. “I was thinking we could hang out and eat in my room. Unless you’d rather be alone tonight? I don’t know what your day-before-competition rituals might be.”
Lauren laughs. “Since we can’t practice too late, why don’t we do that first.” She looks at me, her face a question.
I blink at her and clear my throat. “Yeah. That works. I don’t have specific rituals or anything, and I don’t plan on practicing long.”
“Same,” says Lauren. “I just want to touch on everything, make sure it’s still under my fingers. Traveling always makes me feel weird when I play again for the first time, and I’d rather that not be tomorrow morning when I’m warming up.”
Charlie grins. “That makes sense.” She looks down at her phone. “Let’s meet in my room in ninety minutes. That should give you both enough time to settle in, practice, and maybe relax a bit. Natalie and I will order something in. Then we can chill out and watch a movie or something. Sound good?”
“Perfect,” trills Lauren. And once again, I nod.
Wow. This … wow. It’s so different being with Charlie when she’s not able to be anonymous anymore. I mean, I know, intellectually, that she’s famous. But she’s so real and normal that I don’t realize what that means on a daily basis.
This. Darting into the back, getting escorted by security, scattering once we reach the floor, Lauren and I heading one way while Charlie and her entourage go the opposite direction … it’s all completely surreal.
Chapter Twenty
Run: a rapid series of notes which are closely spaced in pitch, forming a scale, arpeggio, or other such pattern
Damian
Good luck!
The text from Charlotte makes me smile as I follow the woman at the check-in table for the competition down the hall to a practice room. I have twenty minutes to war
m up before my audition time.
She gives me a polite smile as she opens the door to a closet-sized room complete with piano, piano bench, a stand, and a black orchestra chair. “Someone will be back for you when it’s time for your audition.”
“Thanks.”
With a nod, she turns and strides away, the sound of her heels retreating down the long hallway back to the entrance. Stepping inside the tiny room, I set down my case before gently closing the door, sealing myself in with my thoughts.
Last night I played through the first movement of the Dvořák in the hotel, mindful to keep my volume low out of courtesy to my neighbors. Dinner with Charlie and Lauren—Natalie didn’t join us for some reason—had been fun and relaxing, just what I needed before the stress of today.
I haven’t seen anyone this morning. Charlie insisted last night that Lauren and I order room service for breakfast so we could be focused on our performances and not have to navigate the hotel restaurant on top of trying to make it on time. She’d arranged everything, in fact, including having a car service to take us to and from the university hosting the competition. My scheduled time is forty-five minutes before Lauren’s, so we’re taking separate cars.
Undoing the latches on my case, I open it and slide my cello out, retrieving and tightening my bow, settling into my seat before pulling out the rosin to give the hair a few swipes. I start, as always, with long, slow scales. Emptying my head of all distractions. The notes line up easily, falling under my fingers, my bow drawing each one out, the instrument vibrating against my chest and between my knees.
Soon I move on to the concerto. I don’t give it a full, performance quality run-through. Just touching parts. The opening. A couple tricky spots in the middle. The ending.
When I check the time, I have about five minutes left before someone should be coming to get me. So I play simple stuff from memory just to keep the blood flowing and my hands warm. One of the pieces Charlie and I played during our first couple of dates comes to me, and I smile at the memory. Playing through it, I laugh, hearing in my head the terrible clashing chords she came up with. The way she transposed everything up a third so we played in two different keys at the same time, creating a weird effect that was sometimes pretty and sometimes cringeworthy.
Counterpoint and Harmony Page 10
