by Hope Franke
“And see your Duncan Africa,” her sister added.
Eva seared her with a glare. Gabriele had the decency to flash her a look of remorse.
Papa raised a bushy eyebrow. “The boy was here? In our flat?”
Eva couldn’t control the panic that was rising in her stomach. Her gaze cut back to Gabriele. Help.
“I was here, too, Papa,” she jumped in. “They weren’t alone or anything, and I brought the guitar to the living room. Who knows, maybe he’ll buy one. Help support the Ugandans.”
Gabriele’s revised version of the truth was a successful deflection. Papa resumed eating in a relaxed fashion as if Eva’s encounter with Sebastian as purely a promotion for a greater cause, which made more sense. Eva scowled. Of course Papa would find comfort in that thought. A guy like Sebastian Weiss couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like his handicapped daughter.
Sebastian reluctantly checked his phone for messages. Five missed from Dirk. Nothing from Yvonne.
He felt strangely disconnected from that. Yesterday he hated her. Today he felt nothing. In fact, he couldn’t seem to get Eva Baumann out of his head. What was it about her that intrigued him so much?
Sure she was talented, but there were a lot of talented young women in the world. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn’t chasing a dream. Probably because of her leg. But if she wanted to and had the right public relations people behind her, she could use that in her favor. It made her different in a way that tattoos, piercings and dressing like a tart didn’t.
She certainly was pretty enough—not like her sister who obviously spent more than a few minutes in front of a mirror to pull off that look. He actually couldn’t believe those two girls were related. Not only were they drastically different in looks and style, but their personalities couldn’t be more unlike.
Normally, he would’ve gone for the outgoing, made-up one, but now, well, he was done with superficial and anything that smelled of it. He liked authentic. Real.
He liked Eva Baumann.
But what about that leg? He chastised himself. Now who was being superficial?
Besides, it wasn’t like he was a big catch. Once you pulled away the fame and the money—Eva Baumann could do better. Definitely. And she deserved better. Best to just toss all thoughts of her aside.
He called Dirk.
“Finally,” he answered with a huff.
“Nice to hear from you again too.” Sebastian smirked. He knew why Dirk was riled up. It had to do with his last text to him.
I quit.
“You can’t quit. You know that right?”
“Why not?” Sebastian turned the corner and pushed the numbers to unlock the door to his building.
“Because you signed a contract. It’s legally binding.”
Sebastian swore softly. He figured as much, but he kept bluffing. “Find another lead singer. The deal was really with the band, right? Not me.”
“It was with the band and with you. With each of you.”
Sebastian went straight to his fridge, opened a beer and took a swig. “What happens if I just don’t show? Karl is more than ready to take my place.”
“Karl is an imbecile. What he did to you was unconscionable, no question. But he doesn’t have what it takes to fill your shoes.”
“Then fire him.”
“I can’t fire him for immoral behavior. He’d be the one suing next. I’m afraid you’re just stuck with each other.”
“Not going to work for me, Dirk. I quit.”
“You’re really going to face a lawsuit over this? Throw away your career?”
“I’ll revive it.”
Dirk went quiet, and Sebastian had to check to make sure he hadn’t been cut off.
“Look,” Dirk finally said. “I can probably postpone the next tour, give you guys some time to cool off and get your act together. It won’t be pretty and you can expect fan and media backlash.”
“I knew there was a reason we hired you.”
“Yeah, well, the studio is still booked for October, so you’re not on vacation. You better get writing. Ya hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sebastian hung up without saying good-bye.
He flopped on the couch and put his hands behind his head. This was the best good news he’d heard in weeks. Six weeks off. Karl and Yvonne drama free. Sounded heavenly.
Sebastian heard Dirk, though. He had to write. He reached for the nearest guitar that was propped against the couch and ran his fingers up and down the strings, listening for something new to inspire him. Any random combination of things could ignite a new idea. He threw the strap over his shoulder and walked the guitar to the opened door to the deck. The view from his patio was familiar and comfortable, but he saw nothing that inspired an idea.
He went back inside and flicked on the TV. Normally, he avoided news channels. He hated bad news. It just reminded him of his own problems.
He flicked it off.
This was crazy. He wondered if he’d ever write a new song again. Dirk might get his court case by default at this rate.
Truth was, he wrote best in tandem with another writer. He didn’t know why, but his best ideas came with collaboration. Like the song he wrote with Katja Stoltz or the dozen he and Karl had written over the years. The two of them were like John Lennon and Paul McCartney.
Sebastian groaned. He couldn’t imagine spending five minutes in the same room with Karl again, much less writing another hit song with him.
Which made him think of Eva Baumann. She was a good writer. Maybe she could be his next muse? She certainly was on his mind a lot more than he’d expected. Even if she could just help him get started on a new song. He just needed a little help getting started.
Would it be weird if he showed up at her place again? Twice in one day? Her father would likely be there by now, and Sebastian was pretty sure he wouldn’t be too pleased to see him again. He just missed running into him when he left their building that afternoon.
His stomach growled, and he went back to the kitchen to find something to eat. The three buns in a bag on the counter were hard, and the fridge produced a package of butter and a jar of mustard. Great. Now the question was should he go to the grocery store or eat out? He could order in, but suddenly he didn’t want to stay home.
Italian food would hit the spot and he knew just the place. The open patio of the Italian restaurant that just happened to be right across the street from Eva’s building. Yeah, a plate of pasta was what he needed.
He grabbed his sunglasses and his cap as a precaution, though the locals were getting used to him being around now and didn’t pay him as much attention. There were still the tourists to avoid.
Luckily, there was an empty table tucked in behind a planter. The greenery shielded him from the foot traffic that walked by on the sidewalk, but he could see around it enough to keep his eye on the door of Eva’s building.
A middle-aged waiter approached. “Hello, Herr Weiss.”
Already recognized. “Good day.”
“What can I get for you?”
Sebastian ordered fettuccine Alfredo with prawns and asparagus. His eyes kept darting to the second-story window—he could see the lace curtain billowing from the summer breeze. A dark head entered the frame, and he pulled back. He’d be mortified if she caught him gawking. He had to chuckle. Now he was the stalker? Usually he was dodging the crazy people and here he was, one of them.
He shook his head, disgusted at himself. He’d just eat his meal and head home. Leave the poor girl alone.
He no sooner thought this when he saw movement across the street out of the corner of his eye. The door eased open, and Eva stepped out. She’d changed into a knee length denim skirt that emphasized her narrow waist. Sebastian sat upright. Where was she going?
Eva carefully supported her weight with her cane and turned west toward the Altstadt. He waited, wondering if she was going to go into one of the shops. Maybe she was meeting someone? But she never turned in, just s
lowly made her way down the uneven sidewalk. Sebastian sprang from his chair.
“Hey?” The waiter called, just arriving with his meal.
“Pack it up for me,” he said, pulling bills out of his pocket and dropping them on the table. “I’ll come back for it.”
Sebastian dashed down the street, dodging cyclists, skateboarders, women pushing strollers and couples walking linked arm in arm. He slowed up when he got within meters of her. What was he going to do now? Call out? Tap her on the shoulder?
Eva decided for him. For some reason she stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her green eyes widened with confusion when she spotted him.
“Oh, I thought it was you,” Sebastian said. He quickened his pace to catch up.
“The cane was a big giveaway?” she asked.
“No, well, yeah, maybe. Does it matter?”
“No, of course not.”
“Can I join you?”
Her eyelashes fluttered. “Twice in one day. I’m honored.”
“It’s no big deal. Unless it is… for you. I can leave.” A lack of confidence was not something Sebastian struggled with, but now in this moment, with this girl, he found he cared what she thought of him. It hadn’t occurred to him before now that she might reject him. His empty stomach swirled.
Her face broke into a smile and relieved him of his fears. “You really must be bored.”
She started walking and he moved slowly beside her. “Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. Don’t you have people? Photo shoots? Studio sessions?”
“You could say I’m on vacation.”
“And you’re not on a plane to Italy because…”
“Okay, here’s the truth. I want to quit the band.”
Eva stopped and shot him a horrified look. He patted her shoulder. “Relax. The band’s not dissolving. There are contracts. I have to stay. I just don’t want to.”
“Why? I thought making it big with your band was your dream?”
“It was. But that was before I found out my best friend was sleeping with my girlfriend.”
Eva’s mouth dropped open and her face turned a shade of red. “Oh.” She stared hard at her sandals and continued along the cobblestones.
“I’m sorry. Too much information.” Sebastian gathered that she wasn’t used to people being so forthright about personal things. He rushed on, hoping to smooth it over. “So yeah, I kind of hate Karl right now. We’re on an imposed break for a month and a half.” They reached the crosswalk at Albertsplatz. “Where are you going?”
She glanced up at him and then back at the street. “I don’t know. My house can get kind of suffocating. Sometimes I just need to get out from under the microscope.”
“Yeah, I know what it’s like when everyone is in your business.”
They managed to move through the crowd coming from the opposite side of the intersection and Sebastian worried they wouldn’t make it to the other side before the light changed back to red. He pictured himself scooping her up to hurry things along, but they made it across just in time without his intervention. If he planned to hang out with this girl, he was going to have to work on his patience. Eva pointed to the statuesque fountain just past the rail stop. “I often sit here.”
A couple vacated a bench so Sebastian jogged over to save it. He watched as Eva hobbled over. She eyed him tentatively and sat down. Her skirt inched up revealing a shapely thigh marred by a thick scar. She caught him staring and tugged at the fabric sharply.
“What happened?” Then he quickly added. “I hope it’s okay I asked. If not just tell me to mind my own business.”
Her fingers remained gripped on her skirt and he waited for her to tell him to take a hike. But instead she said, “It’s fine.”
“An accident?”
She nodded. “I was in a coma for three weeks.”
“Crazy.”
“Yeah.” She gazed at the fountain. Large mermen intertwined with cherub and sea creatures wrapped around its thick base. “I don’t remember anything,” she added quietly.
Sebastian deciphered the code: Don’t ask any more questions.
“So, anyway, it’s kind of cool that I ran into you again,” he said, like it was purely coincidental and that he hadn’t been scoping her place. “I’m wondering if you’d like to try writing together sometime?”
Eva swung back to stare at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Because.” She shook her head. “Because you’re Sebastian Weiss.”
“And you’re Eva Baumann. A great songwriter. C’mon. Let’s just try it.” Sebastian hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. He had to write a new song. He had to. Not just for Dirk or the band but for the sake of his own soul.
Eva’s eyelashes fluttered. “I suppose I’d be crazy to turn you down.”
“Yes,” Sebastian encouraged. “You’d be crazy.”
“My parents will freak though. I don’t think you should come by again.”
“Your papa get on your case?”
Eva sighed. “You could say that. And my dumb sister let it slip that you were in our flat.”
“You could come to my place then.” He half waved at her. “Obviously they let you out of their sight on occasion.”
She grinned. “On occasion.”
“Great. Give me your phone, and I’ll put my number in it.”
Eva wore a leather pouch with a long strap that ran from shoulder to hip. She pulled out a phone and dropped it into his open hand.
“Now you have my number.” He pressed a button, and the phone in his pocket rang. “And I have yours. How does tomorrow at this time sound?”
She nodded, a stunned expression of disbelief crossing her cute face. Sebastian had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. “I texted you my address.”
He saluted her as he left her sitting on the bench. He had a good feeling about this. Eva Baumann would help him break free from writer's block. He was going to write a hit song, he could just feel it.
Eva’s mind never slowed, and she barely slept that night. From beginning to end the day had been outrageously incredible. She and Sebastian Weiss were practically friends. At the very least, they were writing partners. She pressed a hand over her heart. Be still.
She finally fell asleep just as dawn broke and the partiers outside quieted, but she woke abruptly to the beeping of the alarm on Gabriele’s phone. Normally, the intrusive ping didn’t bother her because she usually woke earlier than her sister. Today she groaned into her pillow.
“Are you sick?” Gabriele asked when she noticed Eva’s form under the summer blanket.
“I’m fine,” Eva croaked. She waited for Gabriele to finish in the WC before getting up. She willed the fog in her mind to clear, and then her eyelids snapped open. She remembered her encounter with Sebastian Weiss the day before and how she’d promised to go to his flat that evening.
What was she thinking?
She reached for her phone and pressed the contacts button. Sure enough Sebastian’s name was there. She hadn’t dreamed it.
And now she had the whole day to get through. It took her longer than “normal” girls to get ready for the day. She donned another summer skirt—she didn’t like to wear shorts because it was hard to hide her scar and jeans were too hot—a blouse and leather sandals. She knew she wouldn’t make the cut for the cover of a fashion magazine, but she had never cared about things like that. She brushed her hair, choosing to keep it down even though it would be cooler to pin it back or put it in a ponytail. She liked how she could hide behind it if necessary. It was an ostrich maneuver—hiding her cane and her limp was impossible—but it brought her a sense of ease in awkward moments.
Her parents didn’t expect much from her when it came to cleaning the house, but she did insist that they let her do the dishes and make the short trek to the grocery store, at least when the weather was good. Pushing a cart wasn’t that difficult, and she could
get quite a lot in her backpack to bring the goods home.
She spent the afternoon working on the one university course she had recently decided to take online. Theoretically, she could get a degree this way, but it would take a decade or more. Gabriele and Annette were right. She should go to university this fall. Stop being a chicken and face the stares and questions. It wasn’t just the people that frightened her: it was also the structure. How would she manage the crowded hallway and get to her classes on time? Everyone would stare if she arrived late. And there was a lot of ice in the winter. She could fall. She could miss the transit, stumble on slippery steps. What if one of the professors called her out in class?
Eva shook her head and sighed. Next year. She’d go next year for sure.
Eventually, the day passed. Abendbrot discussions mercifully moved from her to other topics like world events, neighborhood gossip, and of course, Gabriele and Lennon’s wedding.
She excused herself afterward, announcing that she was going for a walk, and it hit her that she had no way of getting her guitar downstairs. How was she going to write songs without it? There was no way she could ask for assistance and even if she did get Gabriele’s help, her parents would ask questions. She hoped Sebastian had an extra guitar.
She slipped her notebook into her large shoulder bag and threaded her arm through the strap. She was down the stairs and halfway to the address Sebastian had left her before she paused. Was she really going to do this? She didn’t have to. She could just text him an excuse and maybe he’d leave her be. She furrowed her brow in thought. The guy seemed pretty intent on this writing experiment, and Sebastian Weiss didn’t come across as someone who gave up easily.
Eva’s heart raced as she pushed the button by his flat number on the door of the building. It buzzed and clicked open. Sebastian would have to live on the third floor.
He waited for her in the doorway of his flat and his face broke into a smile when he saw her. She wiped her brow of the moisture that had beaded there and smiled back. Sebastian wore knee-length shorts and a red muscle shirt. His feet were bare, and she wondered if she should take her sandals off when she entered.
