At my pointed look, she holds up her hands in surrender and lets out a laugh. “Fine, fine. I won’t pry. But you know my lips are sealed, no matter what you tell me. It’s in my contract, after all.”
When I don’t respond, she adds, “Not that I would anyway.”
“I know. Thanks, Natalie. There’s not much else to tell, really.” Apparently just making out is enough to give me a post-sex glow. At least when Damian’s the one I’m kissing.
Even though nothing is really settled, I’m happier and more hopeful than I’ve been since everything blew up in December. Before that, even, because now I don’t have to be so careful about everything I say. At least not with Damian. I feel freer, more able to be myself. My mom’s given me the silent treatment since I moved out, and I can’t say I’m upset about it. And now things with Damian are moving in a positive direction.
I smile out the window, looking forward to working on my next album. I haven’t felt this good about an album since my first ones years ago. Then it was the excitement of making it. Now it’s the refreshing feeling of being in control of my life, my music, and the direction of my career for the first time … ever.
Chapter Seventeen
Overtone: a musical tone that is part of the harmonic series above a fundamental note and may be heard with it
Damian
“Damian!” My mom pulls me in for a hug as soon as I walk in the door for Sunday dinner the weekend after Charlie’s impromptu visit. She pulls back and examines my face, and I smile down at her. “You look happy, mijo. Happier than I’ve seen you in a while. What’s changed?”
I shrug. “School’s going well. Only a few weeks until I go for the final round of the concerto competition. I’m excited. Dr. Weber says I’m playing better than ever, so I think I have a chance of winning.”
“Of course you do.” She releases my arms and steps back. “You’re talented, and you work hard. But you know we’re proud of you no matter what.”
“Yes, Mamá. I know.”
She nods. “Good. Now go say hello to your sister. Your older siblings aren’t going to make it tonight, so it’ll just be the four of us.”
I head for the living room where Carla is sitting on the couch with her legs curled under her while Mom heads back to the kitchen to finish getting dinner ready.
“Being lazy and not helping Mom tonight?” I poke her in the leg and then sit down on the other end of the couch.
She sticks her tongue out at me. “Like you’re any better.”
“Ah, but I don’t live here anymore. I can get away with it.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but then a guilty look flashes across her face, and she scrambles for the remote. At first I don’t get it, but then I realize that she’s watching an entertainment news show, and they’ve started talking about Charlie.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry, Damian. I know you don’t like hearing about her any more than necessary. Where’d the stupid remote go?”
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
She stops and stares at me stupidly. “What?” Leaning over, she presses the back of her hand to my forehead. “Are you feeling okay? Because for months, you’d growl any time her name came up. And now you’re suddenly okay with it?”
I shrug, feeling like an asshole, but not sure what to say. Plus, I want to hear what they’re saying about her. “Shh. Did you find the remote yet? Turn it up a little.”
Carla just gapes at me, so I ignore her and lean forward.
“Charlotte James seems to be planning a grassroots return,” says the male announcer. “Over the last few weeks, she’s been showing up in random locations and announcing a seemingly impromptu performance on social media and in an email blast to her fans.”
“The shows usually end up with standing room only, and people start lining up as soon as the announcement goes out. According to people who’ve been able to get in, she’s previewing new songs from her album in progress,” the female announcer adds. “Gosh, Mark. I’d love to be able to get into one of those shows. You think she’d let us know early so we can make plans ahead of time?”
The male announcer lets out a fake laugh, flashing his ultra-white teeth. “I don’t know about that, Melanie. It seems that the whole idea is that no one knows ahead of time when and where she’ll show up next. She’s been in big cities and small towns. The first one was in Spokane, WA, where she’s reported to have attended college for a semester when she disappeared last fall. But she’s also done impromptu shows in LA, New York, Nebraska, Louisiana, and Oregon. Who knows where she’ll show up next?”
The TV goes silent, the little mute symbol appearing in the corner of the screen, but I don’t care, because they’ve obviously moved on to gossip about some other celebrity.
When I glance at Carla again, she’s just staring at me. “Since when do you keep up with what’s going on with Charlotte James? I thought you hated her.”
I sit back, rubbing at the back of my neck. “Ah, no. I never hated her, exactly.”
Carla quirks an eyebrow at me, eloquently expressing her disbelief and disdain with one simple gesture.
“Okay, fine. But you know the saying that there’s a fine line between love and hate?”
“I take it you’ve bounced back to the love side?”
I shrug again. “I’m not sure I’d be willing to go that far …” yet. Again. Maybe someday? I keep those thoughts to myself. “But we’ve started talking again.”
Carla’s face changes from disdainful disbelief to undisguised interest. “When did that happen?”
“Uh, well, she was at my friend Lauren’s recital a few weeks ago. I saw her ducking out after with Gabby—”
“Wait, Gabby that used to go to school with you but is now touring with Jonny B? The one whose wedding you went to before Christmas?”
I nod. “Yeah. Gabby. She and Charlie are friends. Have been for a while, apparently. Gabby’s the reason that Charlie decided to come to Marycliff. Anyway. Do you want me to tell you about Gabby or more about Charlie?”
“Fine. Charlie. But we might circle back to Gabby and Jonny B later.”
I chuckle. “Noted. Anyway, they were trying to avoid being seen in general, so Gabby told me to come with them, and I did. We … talked. Sort of. In the car. And then Charlie and I started texting after that.” I fill her in on the basics of our escalating levels of communication which culminated in Lauren showing up at my house Thursday night and taking me to a hotel to see Charlie. I leave out our non-verbal activities, though. I have no desire to discuss that with my sister.
She looks thoughtful as she takes all that in. “So that’s why she was in Spokane when she gave that performance.”
“You knew about that?”
Her look once again clearly communicates her feelings without words. This one says that I must be stupid. “Of course I did. I wanted to go, too. But it was on a school night. Plus, solidarity, man. I didn’t know you’d reestablished contact. I thought we were still anti-Charlotte James around here.”
I grunt, looking down. “Yeah, well, at that point contact was still pretty tenuous.”
“But now she’s making spontaneous trips to see you.” Her tone is thoughtful enough to make me look at her.
“Don’t get too many ideas. We’re not …”
Her nose wrinkles at my implication. “Ew. I wasn’t going to ask about that.” A calculating gleam enters her eyes. “But if you’re at least friends again …”
I sigh, having a pretty good idea where this is going. “Just spit it out, Carla. What are you hoping I can get you? An autograph? Free stuff? What?”
She has the grace to look abashed. “I was thinking tickets to one of these pop-up shows. But an autograph would be cool too. If you don’t mind.”
With my lips pressed together, I look her over, and she gives me a hopeful smile. “I’m not making any promises.”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to.” Her eyes are wide and so
lemn, but an irrepressible curve forms in the corners of her mouth.
“And this is a one-time thing. If I get you something once, you’ll never ask for anything else.”
She holds up her right hand. “Swear on a stack of bibles.”
I snort. “Right. And it probably won’t be right away. We’re still … feeling things out. I don’t want to come off like a douche who’s just trying to use her to get free stuff.”
“I wouldn’t want that for you either. But if the opportunity presents itself …”
“Ha. Fine. If she’s going to do a show anywhere near here, I’ll see if I can get us in. Good enough?”
Her smile completely overtakes her face, and she throws herself at me in an exuberant tackle hug. “You’re the best brother in the world. That’s perfect.”
“You’re in Boise next week for the final round of the concerto competition, right?”
“Right.” I lay back on my bed, tucking my free hand behind my head, my other hand holding my phone to my ear. It’s late, almost midnight, but this is the first chance I’ve had to talk to Charlie in a couple of days. We’ve been texting, but she’s been either in the studio or traveling. She had another pop-up show tonight, this one in Austin, Texas. There doesn’t seem to be any real rhyme or reason to where she’ll be next, which I think is kind of the point. It adds to the mystery, making it all the more exciting when she shows up somewhere.
“Have you already booked your flight?”
I chuckle. “Uh, no. Lauren and I were going to drive down.”
She’s quiet in response to that. “Okay.”
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s just …”
A sneaking suspicion of what might be wrong creeps over me. “Charlie, are you … jealous?”
“What?” She laughs. “No. I know you and Lauren aren’t like that.” I don’t know whether to be relieved or upset that she isn’t even a tiny bit jealous of me spending a lot of time alone in a car with another woman. But she keeps talking before I have the chance to decide. “No, it’s that … I was wanting to come. For moral support, you know. For both of you. I know it’s a long way for either of your families, and you guys are competing in the same category, so it’s not like you’ll be offering much moral support to each other. I mean, I suppose you could commiserate if you both lose, but …”
She finally trails off, and I’m smiling, trying not to laugh out loud. “Uh, Charlie? Have you been talking to Gabby lately?”
“Yeah,” she says slowly, drawing out the word. “We talked earlier today for a few minutes. Why?”
A suppressed snort of laughter escapes. “No reason. It’s just that, well, you tend to talk a lot more when you’ve been spending time with her.”
She sighs, then a light huff of laughter comes over the phone. The simple sound of her breath makes me ache for her presence in real life.
“I miss you.” The thought is verbalized as soon as it enters my head.
“I miss you too.”
We’re quiet for a long moment, then I draw in a deep breath. “Anyway. You were saying about coming for moral support? It’s like an audition, though. It’s closed. Only the judges will be in the room when we play.”
“That’s fine.” Our conversation is back on normal footing, the tension and longing gone from our words and our tone, but an echo of it lingers in my chest as she speaks, all business. “I wouldn’t be able to come even if it were open to the public. Unless I managed a new disguise.”
I chuckle. “You could get those glasses with the nose and mustache attached.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a great idea.” She giggles. “That would be super sexy.”
“You’re always sexy.” My voice goes low, and I say the words without even thinking about them first.
She goes silent, but I hear her breathing speed up. And I’m hard. I’ve been ignoring the chub that started to grow as soon as she called. But now my jeans are uncomfortably tight, and I have to adjust to make room.
“Jesus, Damian. You can’t throw out your bedroom voice like that when we’re trying to talk about travel plans.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
She sucks in a breath again, and I imagine her chest heaving with the motion. In just a lacy bra that pushes her fantastic cleavage up like an offering just for me.
Christ, I’ve got it bad. I slip my fingers under my glasses to rub my eyes. “Sorry. Forget I said that. Travel plans. I’m guessing you have a specific thing you’d like to discuss, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Right.” She sounds breathless still, but like she’s trying to regain control and become businesslike again. “Yes. I do. I was thinking I could come and get you and Lauren, and we’d all fly down together. That way you guys aren’t exhausted from a long road trip, and you can either have more time to relax down there, or not have to miss as much time at school. I don’t know when you were planning on leaving, but you could still make your classes the day before if we fly down that afternoon or evening. Your call.”
“Charlie, that sounds great, but I don’t really have the funds for a plane ticket. Especially not last minute like this. I doubt Lauren does either.”
“You’re missing my point. I have a plane, Damian. I’d fly to Spokane, you’d come get on my plane, and then we’d head to Boise. On my plane. You don’t have to pay for anything.”
My hand drops from my face, and I stare at the ceiling. “You have a plane.” I say it like this is news to me. It’s not.
She giggles. “Yes. You know this.”
I’m nodding, even though she’s not here to see me. “Yes. I do know this. But sometimes I forget.”
“Well, good thing for you that I don’t.”
A surprised laugh escapes me. “Yes. I guess it is. It’s just weird, though, y’know?”
“That I have a plane? Why? I fly a lot. It’s easier this way.”
“Yeah, that does make sense. It’s just that when I knew you, you didn’t have a plane.”
“Well, technically I did.”
I snort. “Fine. You did. But I didn’t know it then. And you still seem so normal to me, that it’s easy for me to forget.”
“Even when I’m calling you after a show I performed halfway across the country?”
“Well, when you put it that way.” I take off my glasses and close my eyes. “My excuse is that it’s late, and I’m tired, and somewhere in my brain you’re still just Charlie, the piano major I interrupted in the practice rooms and asked out for dinner and playing easy Suzuki pieces.”
She doesn’t say anything to that, and I wait. But when she still doesn’t respond I open my eyes and pull my phone away from my ear to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. We’re still connected. “Charlie?”
I hear her take a deep, shuddery breath. “I’m here. Sorry. I just … I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Uh, you’re welcome?”
She lets out a huff of watery laughter. “Thanks.” Then she clears her throat. “Anyway, back to my plane. I’ll talk to Lauren, but you like the idea? I’ll come get you, and we’ll fly down together?”
“Sure. I mean, how can I say no?”
She laughs. “Exactly. You can’t. It’s all part of my master plan.”
I pitch my voice low again. “Your master plan, huh? I kind of like the sound of that.”
“Do you?” That breathless quality is back. “Then I’ll have to keep working on it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ponticello: on the bridge; in string playing, an indication to pluck or bow the string very near to the bridge, which produces a characteristic glassy sound that emphasizes the higher harmonics
Charlie
I end the call with Damian and hold the phone against my chest for a second, feeling both satisfied and unsettled. Satisfied, because Damian agreed so easily to my suggestion of picking up him and Lauren on my plane. A smile comes to my face at his initial misunderstanding of my
suggestion. Because he forgets so easily that I’m not just a normal twenty-one-year-old.
Rolling over, I set my phone on the nightstand. After finishing my show tonight, I got back to the hotel and took a shower, pulling on my sleep shorts and tank top before calling Damian. I’d texted him earlier today to see if it would be okay for me to call this late, and he’d agreed.
But every time we talk, I feel this restlessness, this longing. I miss him. That’s the simple reality.
I miss us.
The way we were together. The feel of his skin, his lips, his hands sliding over me.
Turning off the lamp, I lie back, slipping my hand down my torso under the covers, under my shorts, giving into the memories, the fantasy of what he might do to me if he were here, if our relationship had never fractured. If he still loved me.
I stroke the soft skin of my belly, lower down, brushing over my bare mound, thinking about his low, sexy voice. He does that when we’re on the phone. Gets that suggestive quality that still gets me hot every time. I don’t always touch myself after talking to him. But lying in bed while we talked tonight, it had felt intimate in a way that it doesn’t during the daylight hours. When our conversation is more focused on sharing little stories about our days, not confidences.
Tonight’s conversation wasn’t that sexy, not really, but I fool myself into pretending it was. Because here, alone, I can pretend whatever I like. And giving into the fantasy of Damian and me doesn’t harm anyone.
I press my hips up to my hand, gently applying more pressure, slipping a finger between my lips to find my clit, down to my opening to gather the wetness that started flowing on the phone, and stroke myself.
Memories of his hands on me, in me, his eyes watching me, his lips and tongue and teeth on my nipples as he brought me to orgasm after orgasm has me hurtling to the brink in minutes. I slow down, wanting to savor the memory, the fantasy, for just a moment longer. But it’s too much. My body cries out for release, and with a gasp, I rub frantic circles on my clit, my muscles tensing, then relaxing as heat washes out from my center, pleasant tingles spreading through my limbs.
Counterpoint and Harmony (Songs and Sonatas Book 5) Page 9
