Violent Daylight

by Caroline Angus Baker

  “Shit, Canna,” Dane exclaimed as he ran his hands around the underside of her thighs, “you have gained some serious weight!”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere!”

  “I’m glad you gained some weight; your drug use made you way too thin.” Dane started to run around the room, and Canna laughed.

  “Slow down or I’ll get airsick,” she joked in his ear.

  “Like this?” he asked. Dane stood on the spot and started to spin, which caused her to shriek even more as she held on tight.

  “Stop it!” Canna cried with laughter, and he slowed. “That’s mean.”

  “You love it,” Dane said and turned his head to face her. His blue eyes held her gaze while they caught their breath. “Your eyes look so much better after the operation,” he muttered. At least the damage of the car accident was less evident now. With only a few inches between their lips, there was no need to speak any louder.

  “Thanks. They’re not quite perfect, but I can almost blink normally.”

  “You still have to wear contact lenses?”

  “Yes. They can’t fix that.”

  “Do you still wear your naughty schoolteacher glasses?”

  “Sure do, and every time I put them on I think of you.”

  “You think of me every day?”

  “You’re not an easy tenor to forget, Dane.”

  “You’re impossible to forget.”

  “What’s going on?” boomed Claudio’s voice.

  Canna looked up to see Claudio across the room. “I didn’t even hear you come in here.” Canna slid herself off Dane.

  “Clearly not.”

  “Don’t get grumpy.” Canna straightened her leather jacket. “How’s Veena?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good morning, Claudio,” Dane said. He couldn’t help it; he had annoyed his former best friend and he didn’t care. It was amusing to be in a positive position. After all the times Claudio had tried to steal Canna’s affections away from him, Dane loved to be able to do it in reverse.

  “It was a good morning hours ago, when I woke up with my Canna.”

  Canna rolled her eyes. “Should I go? You gentlemen must have a lot to do.”

  “No, not at all, you are welcome to stay,” Dane said. “I don’t see a problem.”

  “I do,” Claudio snapped.

  “Okay, why don’t we just clear the air here?” Canna asked the two men who towered over her. “I was under the impression that you two had got over that fight we all had in Paris. I thought we had moved past all this nastiness. Tensions were eased after we all punched each other in the face.”

  “We did move on, in Corsica,” Dane said. “But then you came back into our lives.”

  “Right. So, for Virtuosi to work harmoniously, I need to stay away.”

  “I don’t want that,” Claudio said. “I want you over Virtuosi.”

  “That’s a big call,” Dane muttered.

  “It is a massive call. I’m sorry, but it’s true,” Claudio shrugged.

  “Dane and I went through this a while ago,” Canna said. “If I need to stay away from Virtuosi, or away from London, or wherever you record or perform, then I’ll leave. I’m only here for a few days anyway. I don’t work here anymore.”

  Claudio turned to Canna. “Am I meant to pretend that you and I aren’t seeing each other? Should I lie about my life? I’m in love with you, Canna, and I don’t care who knows it! We will be together forever, right?”

  “Wait, what?” she spluttered, and Dane laughed.

  “Catherine!” Claudio cried.

  “I mean, absolutely. We’ll be together forever.” Canna nodded her head, but Dane could see she felt scared by the notion of ‘forever’.

  The double doors banged open and there stood Henri and Erik, whose eyes lit up the moment they saw Canna with her lovers. “Holy shit!” Erik cried. “I’m having a wicked sense of déjà vu right now!”

  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Canna said and left the quarrelling pair. Erik gave her tight hug. “You’re looking great, Erik.” The combo of his shining blue eyes and black hair made him one handsome Austrian. His bike leathers made him look gorgeous. “Tell me, the honeymoon in Corsica… all good?”

  “Your house and staff were sensational. Not that we got out of bed much.”

  “Where is Holly?”

  “She went upstairs with Lea to her office,” Henri said. “Hug me! Je vous ai manqué, Canna.”

  “I have missed you, too. Je n'ai pas à quiconque de parler en français avec.”

  “Then speak French to me! It’s lovely to see you.” Henri’s smile was genuine. His blonde hair looked a little limp due to the damp weather outside, but he still looked his usual handsome self. He dressed like he had just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. “Tell me, Canna, how are you? Are you well?”

  “I am. I’m going to be okay.”

  “Good,” he said, his arms still around her. “You’re always welcome here, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Maybe it’s better if I leave.”

  “Nonsense,” Erik interrupted. “We need all the help we can get.”

  “I haven’t come back to work. I have a job in Milan.”

  “Is that where you’ve been hiding?” Erik asked.

  “It’s a long story. I thought Claudio would have told you.”

  “Claudio has seen you?” Henri squinted.

  Canna turned to Claudio. He had been keeping their relationship a secret from everyone.

  The door opened again and there stood Lea and Holly, ready for work. “Canna!” Lea exclaimed in her perfect English accent. “Sasha just told me that you were here.”

  “I hope my husband has kept his hands off you,” Holly added as she flicked her blonde ponytail over her shoulder.

  “I tried my best,” Erik shrugged.

  Canna hugged her two – only – female friends, happy that they were okay with her arrival. She had let them all down with her drug use.

  “It’s a nice surprise to see you,” Holly said. “I thought since you disappeared after our wedding that we wouldn’t see you again.”

  “I have a good reason to be back.”

  Lea looked at Dane who shook his hands in panic. “No! I’m not seeing Canna again.”

  “I was going to say…” Holly uttered.

  “I am,” Claudio said. “I’m seeing Canna.”

  “You never said anything,” Henri frowned.

  “The reason I left Corsica was so I didn’t cause any trouble among the group. But I went to Madrid with Claudio,” Canna said to the group. “We ran away together.”

  “Do you think we’re stupid?” Lea said. “We all suspected it, but then Claudio never said anything.”

  “I knew,” Dane said. “I have known about their new affair since the wedding. So please, there is no need to be weirded out by all this.”

  “Where have you been?” Henri asked.

  “I spent a few weeks in Madrid with Claudio, and then I moved back to Milan. I inherited a lot of things from my late husband. I’m working in Milan and sailing. Claudio and I have been in Malta this week, sailing around Sicily.”

  “Wow!” Erik said. “How was that?”

  “It was great,” Claudio said. “I woke up on my 41st birthday, out at sea, and we swam with dolphins.”

  “Is that possible?” Dane squinted.

  “Sure is,” Canna replied. “Though, I can’t take the credit for that. Claudio gets his real birthday present later tonight.”

  “She is dirty with him already,” Henri joked.

  “I also got him a gift, one that will make him easier to work with,” Canna replied.

  “Thanks, we need all the help we can get,” Erik sighed.

  “Well, I could offer to help, but not as the humble assistant for Virtuosi. Sure, I’m a billionaire and head of a multi-subsidiary business with thousands of workers…”

  “She’s also a shit-hot sailor,” Claudio
said. “You should have seen her, and all her sailors, bossing them around and making the boat go.”

  “You mean helming the boat.”

  “That’s it. I will get it right eventually.”

  “Okay, this is a little weird,” Erik said, “are you guys a couple?”

  Canna shrugged. “Couple? Yeah, I guess we are.”

  “Canna doesn’t seem so sure about him,” Dane said.

  “I’m sure,” Canna said. “I consider myself more of a mistress than a girlfriend. I’m fine with that.” She smiled, and Claudio winked at her.

  “I don’t have a problem with anything, as long as it’s not going to cause trouble,” Lea said. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  Everyone nodded. They are all remembered the violent outburst between Dane and Claudio in Paris. Every member of Virtuosi ended up covered in blood.

  “Lighten up on them,” Henri muttered in his strong French accent. “Let other couples be happy.”

  Canna frowned and glanced at Lea, who rolled her eyes. Henri and Lea were the perfect couple, and they never bit at one another. “What’s going on here? Virtuosi was the project of a lifetime when the album came out.”

  “Where do we start?” Henri replied.

  “At the beginning.”

  The group sat down on the various chairs scattered around the base of the stage. “We are in trouble, the whole group,” Lea said.

  “Who is the manager these days?” Canna asked. “Veena didn’t agree to come back to the group.”

  “I have been managing the day-to-day things. We don’t have anyone lobbying for us with the big players of the record label,” Lea said.

  “But you have a contract for the second album?”

  “Yes,” Lea said. “Since we didn’t meet sales targets with the first album, the label is making demands on the song choices. They want less pure opera and more pop opera crossover songs.”

  “And you ladies don’t want that?” Canna asked the guys.

  “I’m a tenor,” Erik said and sat up straight. “I know what I like.”

  “I’m a tenor, and I know what I’m good at,” Henri said.

  “I have nothing against crossover, but I don’t wish to sing any,” Dane shrugged.

  “I didn’t cultivate my baritone voice for my entire life to sing cheesy pop songs,” Claudio said.

  “Adapt or die, though,” Canna said.

  “At this rate, we will die,” Holly said. “We put so much work into the first album, in terms of the music and the orchestra, the effort put into the European tour, and then the massive American promo tour for the album, and now they want the guys singing pop songs to a backing track… soon I’ll be out of a job.”

  “How far off sales targets were you?” Canna asked.

  “We sold a million copies in the US but not a million in the UK. We are close to a million sales in Europe.”

  “Then you need to boost sales of the first album. Put out a DVD/CD combo for Christmas.”

  Holly shook her head. “That is too much work.”

  “You work for one of the biggest record labels in the UK. If they can’t hire the Royal Albert Hall for a night and film one show, then they may as well shut down now. Film a show, edit it and get it on shelves for Christmas. With Virtuosi’s pretty faces, it won’t just get to number one in the classical charts, but also the mainstream charts.”

  “Scott would never agree to that,” Lea said.

  “You forget that Scott Taylor is the brother of a good friend of mine. How hard can it be to convince him? We will boost albums sales, and then we can re-negotiate your second album. If not, change labels.”

  “We can’t do that! It took years to get off the ground here. Scott was the only one who believed in us.”

  “He believes in profits. That’s how he is a multi-millionaire. You could go independent and do a massive world tour. You should get the profits of your success.”

  “We can’t afford that,” Lea said.

  “I can.” Everyone looked at Canna. “The fact is I’m rich. If you want to go independent, I can pay for it.”

  “Taylor Studios will put out the album,” Lea said. “But not finance a tour.”

  “I will pay for a tour, then,” Canna said. “I’m no charity, so you’ll have to pay me back.”

  “You never fail to surprise,” Erik said.

  “That what everyone loves about me.”

  “But what about…” Dane began.

  “What about if I fall off the wagon and become a drug addict again? I will always be a recovering addict, but I won’t go back to drug use.” I can’t promise anything. “Just think about it. I have a contract to sign with my lawyer, so that can give you time to think about what I’ve said. I can go and talk to Scott. The business world revolves on who you know, not on talent or work ethic.”

  “That’s comforting,” Dane scoffed.

  “It’s reality.”

  “We can’t take your money, Canna,” Claudio said. “If we wanted to take out a loan and go on tour ourselves…”

  “Private investment works,” Canna interrupted him. “Who are you going to find that believes in the group as much as me? After all, I’ve already slept with two of you.”

  The group let out an awkward chuckle. “Oh come on, that’s funny,” she added.

  “Give them time,” Claudio said.

  “I asked Claudio to marry me,” Canna said and leaned back in the plastic seat. “And while he didn’t accept…”

  “I accepted,” Claudio said.

  Dane’s mouth fell open. “Fuck me.”

  “I have, Dane, and it was a pleasure. But now I want to marry the Spaniard, if he ever gets divorced. If that doesn’t seal my commitment to Virtuosi, nothing will. Think about this. We can take Virtuosi global, with or without Scott Taylor. On a privately funded tour, you could sing all the songs off your first album, plus any other songs you choose. You won’t answer to anyone but me.”

  CHAPTER 8

  LONDON

  Canna wandered back in the direction of the Virtuosi studio, lost in her own world. She swung a plastic bag in her hand as she walked along the smooth path. Claudio was outside the studio and jumped up from his spot at the fountain.

  “Geez, I left you for a few hours and here you are, waiting for me, like a lost puppy,” Canna said and kissed his cheek. “Did you get anything achieved?”

  “We talked about what you offered, mostly about the loan to go on tour.”

  “And?”

  “And… you were our assistant, and now they’re dealing with the fact you’re a billionaire.”

  “Billions worth of assets, not actual cash.”

  “How much cash do you have?”

  “Millions. Why? Do you want to marry me for my money?”

  Claudio’s face broke into a smile. “No, I don’t want your money. I think the Caraceni money might be cursed.”

  “You might be right. Either way, I love money.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Claudio glanced down at the plain bag in her hand. “Where have you been?”

  “The chemist. What do you call it? Pharmacy. Pharmacia.”

  “That’s too easy, you don’t score points for learning that one in Spanish. Wait, what did you get?”

  “Contact lenses solution. Why? What do you think I got? Painkillers?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t need to say it! No, no painkillers. I put up with every pain and hangover,” Canna snapped.

  “Don’t drink and there is one problem sorted.”

  “You are a killjoy.”

  “Is that a word?”

  “It is in my world. Are you going to shut up long enough for me to tell you what I have been doing?”

  “That depends, do you want to share?”

  Canna took Claudio by the arm, and they headed away from the studio. “I went to see Angeline Taylor. I haven’t seen her since Daniel’s funeral.”

  “How is she?” C
laudio asked. While he didn’t know Canna’s friend Angeline or late husband, he had been at Daniel’s funeral. It was a day burned into his mind forever.

  “Not at all how I expected. I went to her lawyer’s office. She and I had a few things to sign, and guess who was there - your boss, Scott Taylor. I thought to myself ‘he is here to support his dead brother’s wife’. Seemed plausible. But no, the truth is as juicy as hell itself.”

  “What happened?”

  “I walked into the waiting area room, and Scott and Angeline, who didn’t notice my arrival, were flirting and kissing.”

  “What? Is that even legal?”

  “An affair with your brother’s wife after he dies? It’s probably legal, far stranger things have happened. But I felt shocked. Daniel and Angeline were such a solid couple, but there she was, sucking Scott’s face.”

  They stopped to cross the road, and Claudio noticed the upset look on Canna’s face. “I’m sorry, I know Daniel was a good friend of yours.”

  “So was Angeline. I was there that night when Daniel died. Angeline and Scott seemed distraught with their loss. Now, only six months later, they’re an item.”

  “What was their reaction when they saw you?”

  “Scott jumped up, and tried to pretend nothing happened. Angeline seemed embarrassed. People find love in unlikely places. But it was weird. Very weird. I signed the papers and felt grateful I could leave.”

  Claudio just kept up with Canna’s lightning walking pace, but he liked that she had her arm linked through his. London felt like a hideaway from the rest of the world, where they could be a couple in the true sense of the word.

  “The question is, what happens now?” Canna asked. “My friendship with Angeline is going to be odd. It’s Scott that’s the danger. Will he trust me to keep his little secret? Scott Taylor is a high profile businessman – and not a single man. If he wants to give a stiff one to his dead brother’s wife, it won’t give him a great deal of credibility. He won’t like bad publicity.”

  “But it’s no one’s business.”

  “No, it’s not. Unless we can use the information to suit ourselves.”

  “That’s nasty!”

  “It’s business. You’re contracted to a second album with Scott, and he is causing you trouble, but now we have leverage. Now, we can re-negotiate the deal for the new record. When I saw him, I said that I’m interested in financing your tour. At this point, I reckon he would agree to anything if I asked him. He would be keen to keep me happy, so I don’t tell everyone he is screwing a widow.”