Lying in Shadows

by Sofia Grey

  “This is a custom job,” he said. “Handmade, by a guy on the outskirts of Manchester. I wanted it to be a mahogany plank with a pair of early Gibson P90 pickups. I already had those.”

  She admired the workmanship and stroked the pickups, then carefully handed it back. She glanced at Rico and found him watching her, a smile on his face.

  “Not sure what language you guys are talking,” he drawled. “Means nothing to me.”

  “Heathen,” she said, teasing him. “I’ll have to educate you sometime.” She turned back to Alex, feeling on more of a common ground with him now. “Faced with such a choice, which do you use the most? Is there one you reach for first?”

  “Yeah.” He picked up the Paul Reed Smith. “The PRS every time. The others are good, but this is the one. It’s so easy, it almost plays itself.”

  “Why don’t I make coffee?” said Rico. “Leave you two to make friends.”

  “Thank you.” She was glad for the chance to stay. Alex’s taste in guitars was matched only by his amplifier collection. She could spend days trying out different combinations, and not get to play everything.

  Sylvie took a seat and picked up the Fireglow, before slipping the leather strap around her neck. Dropping this baby was not an option. It’d be like smashing a Picasso or a Monet. She checked the tuning—spot on—and the tone and volume—both perfect. It was time for the moment of truth.

  She ran through a few scales, getting used to the weight of the guitar and the width of the neck. She’d never touched a Rick before. It knocked her poor old Fender completely to the curb. She felt a brief pang for her old bass but refused to dwell on it. Not now. Not with this in her hands. It was a sleek and glossy thoroughbred of an instrument, compared to most other basses.

  Meanwhile, Alex plugged the PRS into a rare valve amp and fiddled with a few knobs and switches. “What sort of stuff do you like?” He gave her an impish smile that threatened to stop her in her tracks. Where had she seen him before?

  She dragged her focus back to answer his question. “I love rock music and Indie. You know—Oasis, Event Horizon, the Foos. How about you?”

  He smiled. “Same. Why don’t we start with a basic twelve-bar rhythm, to warm up, and see where that takes us?”

  While they jammed together, Sylvie lost herself in the music. The Rickenbacker was heaven to play, and she slid her hand up and down the neck, producing a waterfall of sound to accompany Alex. He was a much better guitarist than he hinted at, and it was one of the best impromptu sessions she ever had.

  Alex broke the spell and put down his guitar. “I have to go. Make the place your own. My phone number is on the fridge. Ring me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks Alex. It was fun. Maybe again later?” Sylvie said.

  “You bet.”

  Rico came to stand behind her, and massaged her shoulders. “You have hidden talents,” he said. “Now it’s my turn to show you a thing or two.”

  His session was much more vigorous. He found a patch of soft grass in the huge sprawling garden and took Sylvie through a series of kicks and throws.

  “Enough.” She lay heaving on the damp grass. She thought she was fit, but Rico wasn’t even out of breath. “No way are you a novice kickboxer.”

  “I haven’t earned all my belts, if that’s what you mean.”

  “So where the hell did you learn this?” She rolled onto her side and creakily pushed herself back upright.

  “Here and there.” He feinted towards her again, and pulled back as she lashed out. “Okay. We’re doing something else.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out the flick-knife.

  Sylvie stared. “You kept that?”

  He nodded and pushed it into her right hand. “We’ll leave the blade down for the moment, but you can get a feel for the weight of it. Come at me with the knife. Don’t hold back.”

  She lunged. He disarmed her. The knife dropped to the ground.

  “Again,” he ordered. They repeated the exercise several times.

  “Now it’s your turn.” He took the knife back, stood before her, and circled round. She swallowed, tried to remember what he’d shown her... feinted, lunged, and forced him to drop it. Yes.

  He grinned. “That’s better. Again, Silverwood.”

  They sparred until she was so tired she didn’t think she could move for a week. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Sylvie gasped for breath, while Rico cleaned the knife on his shirt.

  “Did you learn this in the Marines?”

  He hauled her upright. “Knock me down, and I’ll tell you. There’s your incentive.”

  Bastard. She had no chance. She sparred until her knees gave way. “Leave me here. I want to die.”

  He crouched beside her, his face serious. “Babe, don’t ever say that. Don’t joke about it. You never give up. While you’re breathing, you still have everything to live for. Got that?”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  “We’ll take a break and do more later. C’mon.” Rico scooped her up into his arms and held her close.

  Chapter Seventeen

  An idea woke Alex in the early hours of the morning and refused to leave. He wanted to bounce it off Jordan, and was pleased when Jordan called around to see Sylvie on Monday morning.

  Sylvie was upstairs, so Alex could speak freely. “How do you think Kate would react if I offered to play at the party next week? I know how much she likes live music.”

  Jordan laughed, as though he didn’t believe him. “Man, she’ll probably kiss your boots. Are you sure about this? When word gets out, people are gonna think the band is getting back together.”

  It seemed like a great idea at stupid o’clock, and before Alex could change his mind he’d sent text messages to Charlie and Mick. They both replied yes. They needed a bass player, and it could be a fantastic distraction for Sylvie.

  “Yeah. There’s always a trade-off. In exchange for the guys coming here, they’ve insisted we do one comeback gig. Probably a charity event.”

  Jordan stared, his eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know what to say. I’m blown away by your generosity. I can guess how much it’s costing you.”

  Light footsteps sounded on the stairs, and they turned to see Sylvie in the kitchen doorway.

  “Good morning.” Her face was pale, with shadows under her eyes, but her smile looked genuine.

  The night before, when Rico left for London, Alex had been struck by her courage. This morning he felt a wave of protectiveness for the pretty young woman. She didn’t ask to be thrown into the path of danger, but she was coping.

  If Alex could help get her through it, he would. “Morning. How do you fancy a little session next weekend. Your first gig?”

  She looked surprised, then caught on. “You mean at Jordan’s party? That would be awesome. But I’d need to rehearse some numbers with you. I’ll have to spend all week practicing.”

  “What else do you have planned?”

  “True. Let’s do it. I should be able to limp through half-a-dozen numbers if you can spare the time. Won’t you need a vocalist though?”

  Jordan laughed and managed to turn it into a cough. His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Yes, Alex. Won’t you need a singer? Or are you planning to do that?” His voice was innocent.

  Alex rolled his eyes.

  Sylvie looked at them both, visibly confused. “What is it? What did I say?”

  Jordan chuckled again. “I’ll leave this in your capable hands and see myself out.”

  Alex had to tell her he was in the band, and the longer he let it slide, the more embarrassing it would be when she found out, but he still shied away from the truth. He’d say something later. There was plenty of time.

  “I can sing a little,” he was offhand. “And I’ve lined up a couple of old mates to drum and play rhythm. We do need a bass player.”

  Sylvie’s smile grew, and pink lined her cheeks. “Okay. Great. Do you have a playlist for me to work on? And can we set up a rehearsal session for all of us?�
��

  “Yep. I’ll dig out some scores for you. The guys will be here on Friday, and we’ve got most of the day to rehearse as a group.” He felt guilty for duping her. “It’s just a bit of fun. Don’t take it too seriously. We haven’t played together for over a year, anyway.”

  “I hope I don’t let you down. Maybe I could take the guitar and amp up to my room, to practice? It saves disturbing you in your studio.”

  “Sure.”

  She lifted the coffee tin from the shelf and began spooning the grounds into the pot. “I keep meaning to ask. What do you do up here? Do you own a string of music shops or something?”

  This wasn’t a question Alex usually faced. For the moment, he was enjoying the novelty of anonymity. “I made a bit of money in business and came here for the quiet life. I’m trying to write some material at the moment, hence the studio.”

  “TM-Tech.” She spoke confidently.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I remembered where I know you from. You’re another hotshot executive from TM-Tech. Your face was familiar, and you’re friends with Jordan.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Have you thought about production?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You’ve got tons of space here. You could set up a string of practice rooms to rent out, then produce the results for the local bands. My brothers always struggled to find decent practice rooms or studios that could be rented by the hour.”

  “I’ll... um... think about it.”

  She turned to face him. “I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with myself today, so why don’t I do some cleaning? I feel like I need to pay you for staying here. I can cook as well, if you like. Not brilliantly. Pretty basic, but better than takeaway. Well, mostly.”

  “Wait. What? You’re not doing the cleaning. You’re a guest. My guest.” He was horrified. “I’ll sort out a cleaner today.” He glanced at the almost empty counter. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

  “No, but I feel like a spare part. I’m not used to doing nothing.”

  “I’ll sort out the scores and tabs this morning. We can practice. I’ll keep you busy.”

  * * * *

  Marcus was strapping himself in for a one-way express trip to hell. Not only had he cheated on his wife, but he longed to repeat the experience. The stunt on Friday should have driven him back into Louisa’s arms, relieved at her safety and swearing never to stray again. What kind of ass was he?

  It crossed his mind to tell her what happened when her wallet and phone were stolen, but he discounted it. Louisa believed she left them on the table in the café, long enough for a light-fingered passerby to swipe them. If he told her the truth—that she was targeted by an unknown assailant—it would terrify her. He wanted to spare her that. She was freaked out enough at the loss and at finding herself stranded on the other side of the city, with no easy way back to the apartment. Lucky for her, a helpful fellow shopper came to her aid and paid for a cab.

  Marcus helped to cancel her cards, and then went out with her to buy a new phone, and a pretty leather wallet from Selfridges. What he should have been doing was sitting down with her and telling her their marriage was over, but like the gutless fucker he was, he couldn’t. They’d both had enough drama this weekend, and another few days playing happy family wouldn’t hurt.

  He’d tell her next week.

  It wouldn’t be easy, but it was the right thing to do, and with the decision made, he felt lighter than he had in ages.

  He delayed the Monday morning briefing while he went to the station with Louisa, to make sure she caught her train safely. Only then did he head for the office, and back out again to Starbucks.

  Maybe he should claim this as his new office space, he thought as he waited for his drink. He spent enough time here. There wasn’t much news. Aiden took the TM-Tech Europe servers down for most of the weekend, for a variety of tests and scans. He also kept Marcus’s laptop. The plan was for Aiden to attend the evening briefing, to give an update on his findings. Without any new information, they were stalled.

  * * * *

  Alex was having a great morning. With Sylvie’s input, he put together a list of songs for them to work on, and they dove right in to the Oasis tracks. It was the best fun. She had no expectations of him and didn’t treat him as anything special. He was just Alex.

  They took a break for lunch, and Sylvie brewed coffee while Alex gathered a selection of sandwich makings from the fridge. He didn’t think it odd for someone to knock on the door, and it felt normal for Louisa to call out, “Hello? Are you home?”

  “In here,” he replied, and turned to greet her when she walked into the kitchen. For a moment, he forgot about Sylvie. “Hey.” He gave Louisa a quick hug. “How was London? Would you like some lunch?”

  Louisa hesitated, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on Sylvie. “Thank you. Kate and Jordan are both out, so I thought I’d come say hi, but if I’m interrupting something, tell me.”

  Ah fuck. How did he explain Sylvie being there? Jordan wanted to keep her presence quiet. He stared into the fridge again, for inspiration, and came up empty. Louisa waited for an introduction, and he could practically feel her curiosity.

  “Louisa, this is... Sizzle.”

  Sylvie stiffened her back but turned to Louisa, a wooden smile in place.

  Alex felt as though he were grasping at straws. Thin ones, at that. “Sizzle is my... ah... We’re jamming together. She plays bass.”

  “I’m Louisa. I’m staying next door.” Louisa beamed, and Alex knew what she was thinking.

  Sylvie nodded. “Hi,” she said and returned to making lunch.

  “Does Kate know you’re playing again?” asked Louisa. “She’ll be so pleased.”

  “No.” He wanted to shut this conversation down. “It’s all quite recent. How was your weekend?”

  “Well, apart from having my wallet and phone stolen, it was fantastic.” She leaned forwards and spoke quietly. “Marcus was lovely, and we spent all our time together. I think we’re going to be fine. We needed a break from everything.”

  “That’s good.” He guessed from her upbeat mood, that she knew nothing about the troubles at TM-Tech, or that Rico thought she’d been followed. It wasn’t Alex’s place to say anything.

  “I hope you don’t mind me bursting in on you like this.” Louisa gazed at Sylvie, who was buttering bread for sandwiches. “You know, I need to get back anyway.”

  Sylvie said goodbye, but nothing more until Louisa was gone. She stared at Alex as though he’d lost his mind. “Sizzle? I sound like a porn star.”

  “Yeah... Sorry. It was the first thing that came into my head. Jordan wanted you to lie low, and I didn’t want to give your name away. You are a sizzling bass player.”

  She laughed, her cheeks pink. “How can I ever face her again? Was that Jordan’s sister?”

  “No, she’s his cousin I think. She’s nice, you’d like her.”

  After the two of them demolished a mountain of sandwiches, Sylvie slipped upstairs to practice on her own, while Alex tried to work more on the playlist. He couldn’t settle. Strains of an Oasis track drifted downstairs, and he listened. Sylvie was good. Better than she made out.

  He picked two Oasis songs he knew were Kate’s favourites, along with the Foo’s “Aurora”, which he knew to be Anita’s favourite. Aside from that, he selected six of his own songs—a cross section of the ones he liked the most. He needed to email the tentative playlist to Charlie and Mick.

  He also needed to fess up to Sylvie. The lie nagged at him. He couldn’t continue to keep the truth from her. Not when the guys would be turning up on Friday. He loved the friendly relationship that was developing between him and her, and it would be spoiled if she suddenly perceived him in a different way.

  Common sense began to reassert itself. He had a great relationship with Kate and Jordan, and they didn’t treat him as anything special. Maybe Sylvie had figured it out but felt awkward about speaking up.

  Something el
se played on his mind, and this took a bit longer to admit.

  He was lonely.

  Yeah, he had more real friends now than in ages, when he counted Jordan, Kate, Louisa... even Jon and Anita, whom he only met the once. But they were all paired off. Jon with his beautiful shy new wife. Louisa happily reconciled with the hard-working Marcus. Kate and Jordan with the most solid, loving relationship he’d seen in years. Rico with the ballsy Sylvie.

  Who did he have? He stood on the edge, looking in and envying them all.

  It didn’t have to be like this. He kept thinking back to the conversation weeks ago, when Louisa encouraged him to get in touch with Maz. He was tempted. Ever since she contacted him on Sam’s anniversary, he itched to reply properly.

  Alex sometimes allowed himself the luxury of daydreaming about Maz. Was it better to remember what they had, or to take that brave step into exploring what they could have now? What was to stop him asking Frankie about her?

  Or he could text her.

  He sent a message before he could change his mind again.

  Hi Maz. Good to hear from you the other week. Been busy. How about you? What are you doing these days? Yours, AJ

  * * * *

  Aiden caught Marianne at her desk on Monday afternoon. “One piece of good news,” he announced. “There weren’t any listening devices in the Executive Suite. We also swept Sales & Marketing, the meeting and conference rooms, and the whole of this floor. All clear.”

  “That’s good. Thank you. Anything else yet?”

  He shook his head. “Afraid not. I’ll have some updates for your evening meeting, though.”

  She watched as he disappeared into a meeting room with Rico, and then she checked her schedule. Having worked through the weekend, she’d cleared much of today’s workload. Maybe she’d see if Marcus fancied a coffee. Just coffee. She was doing well at maintaining a respectable distance from him.

  She called him, and he answered right away.

  “Hey, Marcus. I’m going out for coffee if you’ve time to join me. “

  “Yeah. Good idea. I haven’t taken a break yet today. Half an hour from now in Starbucks?”