by Daisy Allen
“I thought you ‘knew’ that already.” She glares at me.
I lean down close to her, my cheek brushing hers and I think I hear a soft gasp from her lips. “I’m just glad you did, because I missed you so much, it hurt to breathe,” I whisper low into her ear.
“Seemed like you were breathing just fine last night.” She pulls away and rolls her eyes at me before shaking her head and letting out a tiny chuckle. It’s little, but it’s something. Something to say, “the door’s not closed on us yet.”
“I got my bag, Mommy.”
I take his backpack from him. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road! How ‘bout you tell me all about your helicopter ride, hey?” I pick him up and carry him through the crowd to the waiting car while listening to his excited babbling.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emily
I’ve been gone almost a week after having spent only three days with the band and crew, but they welcome me back like family. Even more than that. They welcome my family like family. I arrive to find that the empty room has been made up for the nurse, a cute redhead that fell in love with Ben at first sight, Carrie. Cadence has also moved to the guys’ bus to bunk with Sebastian, and given her room up for Ben.
When Ben is taken into his room, I think he’s going to faint from excitement. They’ve decorated his room in Transformers bed sheets and posters on the wall. And there are a Transformers toothbrush and a towel waiting for him in the bathroom, and Transformers DVDs lined all along the shelf in the living room. It is going to be impossible get him to go home.
Having Ben here is a welcome distraction, though.
After last night and the unexpected direction our text conversation went, I’m not sure that Brad and I should be left alone. Ever.
I don’t know what came over me. One minute I was lying there, hugging the phone to my chest, so glad to hear from him. The next I’m closing my eyes, picturing him lying there, stroking his hard cock, wishing his hands were on me, his fingers sliding into me, instead of my own.
Even after he’d stopped responding, I continued, my orgasm building as I remembered the way he touched me. How his fingers slid into me eight years ago, driving deeper and deeper while his thumb caressed my clit, my back arching, and him catching my nipple in his mouth.
I wanted him so bad if he’d been there I’d have begged …begged him to fuck me, begged him to release the orgasm building through my body. As it was, I came pretty hard anyway, imagining his mouth catching my climax, his tongue strumming against my pussy, extending the pleasure.
Yeah.
Brad and I should definitely not be left alone.
There’s a knock on my door and I clear my throat before I answer. “Yeah?”
“We’re ready to go out to dinner, probably just across the road at the pizza place, since Ben will most probably like something there. Is that okay?” Cadence asks.
“It’s…guys, you don’t have to worry about Ben. Don’t make any extra effort; he’ll be fine. I don’t want him to get in anyone’s way.”
“Are you kidding? We all adore him. You’re going to have to keep an eye on him or else one of us is going to adopt him.”
I don’t know if it’s true. But it’s awfully nice of them to say.
I knock on the wall adjoining our rooms.
“Come on, Buster, pizza for dinner!”
“YAY! Do you think they have ice cream as well?”
***
The next few days are an absolute blur. The Birmingham leg has the band doing four thirty-minute shows, eight radio interviews, and two mall signings and meet and greets. Between following the guys, writing a short column for Phil about the tour, and looking after Ben, there’s barely time to breathe let alone have any less-than-platonic thoughts about Brad.
But that doesn’t stop my entire body from burning hot whenever he’s around.
The days start early. Morning breakfast listeners up early for the drive into work have proven to be the band’s target audience and for three days in a row, we’re up before 6 a.m. The nanny has proven to be a godsend and Ben adores her which makes leaving him with her easier for me, so he gets to sleep in until we meet up with him somewhere for a quick lunch.
“THEY LOVE IT!” I yell as we’re shoveling fish and chips and salad before rushing off to another radio interview on a drive time show.
“What? Who loves what?” Brad asks, through his mouthful of fish.
“My column. Phil says the response has been really positive! It’s gotten three times as many views as any of the other articles today, and he’s already received calls from about three other publications to commission the entire series.”
“Did you post a picture of us?” Brad wonders.
“Of course.”
“Well, duh, that’s why!”
“Oh hush!” I throw a chip at him and it bounces off the tip of his nose.
“Just kidding, it really was great. We all told you so last night.”
“I dunno, could you have left out the part about my spending thirty minutes in Sephora?” Jez whines.
“No.” I grin and shove a chip into my mouth. I’m so happy.
“Then, yes, it’s still a great piece,” he concedes and gives me a cheeky wink.
I sink back into my seat, shaking from the excitement…and in some part, relief. I had invested everything in this, dropped all other writing work, dragged my wounded son along on tour, and sacrificed my sanity following my teen love around for a month. Knowing that it might have really been worth it feels like a giant two-ton weight has come falling off my shoulders.
I pull Ben into a hug and he growls a little in protest. “M-om, I’m eating. And everyone’s watching.”
“Let them watch, ‘cause now they’re going to see this!” I lean over and give him a big kiss on the cheek, wiping off the lipstick mark I leave behind.
“Ewwwww!”
“You’re a lucky boy, Benny. I’d love to have a lipstick mark like that on my cheek!” Brad teases Ben.
“You can. You just have to get Mommy to love you like she loves me.”
“Got it, kiddo, I’ll keep that tip in mind.”
***
On the third and last day in Birmingham, the guys have a special concert at the chamber concert hall lined up. Dennis arranges a mid-morning rehearsal so the guys can practice some of the pieces they haven’t played for a while off the new album. We all meet up at the rehearsal studio after a quick breakfast, and it’s clear that everyone’s feeling a little tired from the last few days.
After the first few songs, Marius puts his viola down and lies down flat on the floor.
“Can I sit this one out?” he begs.
“Lay this one out more like it,” Jez quips.
“Me too,” Brad says and falls down on the ground almost on top of Marius. “Let’s make it a cello-only song!”
“Make that a cello solo piece,” Jez adds as he joins the pile of male musicians building up on the studio floor.
“Fine by me,” Sebastian grins. He picks up his cello and plays a quick scale. Then bows and grins, holding his arms up waiting for applause.
“It’s a good thing he’s good in bed; his cello playing’s becoming somewhat questionable,” Cadence says to the mock offense of her fiancé, and the amusement of everyone else.
“What does that mean?” Ben suddenly asks from his corner where he’s behind his iPad.
Everyone freezes and their eyes turn to me. I take a swig from my water bottle, stalling as I try to think of an answer.
“Um, Aunt Cadence just means Sebastian is really good at sleeping, honey,” I say, pointing back at the iPad to shift his attention.
“Oh, what’s going on here?” Dennis’s voice booms through the small space. “Why, pray tell, are you all lolling about on the floor like a bunch of limp sardines?”
“They’re trying to be as good in bed as Sebastian, Uncle Dennis. Aunt Cadence said he’s so good it doesn’t matter he’s not goo
d at cello playing,” Ben tells the older man helpfully.
Dennis stops in his tracks and blinks. I can see the profanities dancing on his lips and I give him a pointed look.
Everyone has had to be on their best behavior around Ben and I’ve truly appreciated their effort, but I’m sure next term at school I’ll be called up to the principal’s office for some colorful language from Ben he’s inadvertently learned on the road.
“Oh. I see. Okay. Well, not time for sleep now lads, time for play. Specifically, music play. Let’s take it from the mashup of ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ and ‘Wings.’”
“Noooooooo, you’re kidding me, right? I can barely hold my head up let alone play Rimsky Korsakov’s torture piece now,” we hear from Brad the molehill.
I can understand his hesitation—as the token violinist, he has to hold up most of that piece, play it like the bumblebee is buzzing to and fro, whizzing back and forth, ducking and weaving. But judging by the way he doesn’t even care that one of his legs is trapped under Jez and his arm is flung over Marius’s face, that bumblebee might as well fall into a pond of water and drown in an untimely death.
“Come on, we’ve got to get the transition right. You guys are rushing the tempo change. It’s a mashup, not a smackdown between Korsakov and Birdy.”
Dennis prods the pile of arms and legs and torsos with his foot and the pile groans. Eventually, it moves and separates into three individual bodies and they take their places again. I’ve heard this piece on their album but not live, and I’m glad Dennis has gotten them back on their feet because I can’t wait to hear it.
Cadence grins at me and bounds over to the piano. Where she gets her endless energy, I don’t know. Something to do with being a teacher, she said, and how nothing saps your energy like that.
Dennis finds a seat and Hailey flips the switch on the recording device so the boys can listen back on it later.
There’s a sense of electric energy in the air. They know this piece is special. They’ve titled the mashup piece “Bumblebee Wings,” and I think it might just be their Grammy-winner.
Brad gives the other guys a nod, their faces serious now, forgetting the laziness of just seconds ago. They’re in the zone, and nothing can break it.
I hold my breath and wait for brilliance.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emily
The crowd grows silent. Even though they don’t know what’s coming, there’s something in the air that tells them what they’re about to hear is special.
I’m still recovering from my experience of hearing it in rehearsal this afternoon, but here in the front row of this small but atmospheric orchestra hall with a thousand hardcore fans behind me, I can’t wait to hear it again. I want to see it played how it was meant to be played, live and for as many people to listen to it as possible.
As customary, before the opening of any half of their show and encore, the hall and stage fall completely dark. The Rock Chamber Boys’ experience is a full body sensory one. The boys and their crew, their light manager, their backdrop, their décor—they know that every inch of this hall, space, and sound can be controlled to heighten their experience.
It’s pitch black and I can feel Hailey moving next to me on one side, and Hank, Sebastian’s nephew and assistant on the other. They’re watching through different eyes, having been so close to it and wanting to make sure everything runs as they’ve pictured it all these months.
I’m buzzing with such anticipation and excitement, it’s a wonder I’m not lighting up the space like a firefly.
I can hear their footsteps, and not for the first time I can’t figure out how they don’t fall flat on their faces in the dark. I guess it’s partly why they have nothing on stage but them and their instruments.
“And…now,” Hailey whispers to herself, and as if on cue, there’s a plucking of a cello string. A low bass note drives the rhythm deep. It echoes in my chest and takes over my heartbeat. I know it’s Sebastian, and I can imagine the concentration on his face.
Someone in the audience suddenly gasps, and I almost copy them when we see a single bright dot appear out of the dark, cast on the wall. It trembles, not quite moving, but not standing still.
Then as Jez and Brad and finally Marius join in, the dot grows slowly bigger, until it’s the size of a baseball.
It wavers there, like a shimmering light. Then as the notes from Brad’s violin buzz into life, so does the dot.
It’s a bee. A bumblebee. An insect made of pure light, dancing over the walls and ceiling of the hall. A soft ambient light fills the stage and we can only just see the band. But all focus is on the notes, the musical notes drawing a map of the bumblebee’s flight plan. Up here, bee, up here, the notes tell us, and he whizzes up to a crevice in the ceiling. No, no, down here, Brad’s bow sings to the bee, let’s hide down here.
I close my eyes and am transported from the room onto a rocking boat on the sea. This iconic piece of music from Tale of the Tsar Saltan is when the Saltan’s son is turned into a bee and stows away on the boat to the mainland to find his estranged father. It’s one of my all-time favorite pieces of music. And it takes more than skill and practice to play it well; it takes an instinctive feel for the instrument and the sound it creates to make a string of notes conjure the image of a frantic tableau. And not for the first time, it occurs to me the band—each and every one of them—has been touched by the hand of a musical deity.
I open my eyes again as I find myself almost dizzy, swaying along to the sea’s motions and the bumblebee’s movements. The piece is short and it’s coming to a climactic end.
Dum dum dum dum dum dum dum! Brad’s violin bee escapes the boat and disappears into the wind.
And then, without a breath of hesitation, Jez and Sebastian’s cellos soar to life. Bursting out of the restraint of the driving beat from the Korsakov piece, the sound swells like a twenty-foot wave, threatening to crash.
The boys have chosen Birdy’s “Wings” to combine with the bumblebee, and it is pure genius.
Birdy’s song is atmospheric and filled with a surging ache. It’s a song of hope but tinged with the darkness of life.
The stage floods with a soft pink light, then fades to blue, then purple, then retreats to illuminate the stage in a soft, sunlit glow.
The strings pull back and the spotlight falls on Cadence. She’s an angel in a shroud of white lace. Her hair is pulled to the side in a loose braid. Her fingers fall on each note, deliberate, fated to be there. She caresses the keys to play a single-noted melody. Birdy must have been channeling the goddess of melancholy when she wrote this piece, and Cadence is her confidante.
The addition of Cadence to the band for some of the pieces has been a game changer. For some epic songs like this it is undeniable—her female intuitiveness injects heart into the song, filling out those empty spaces between the strings. I am so proud to know her, even for the few days we’ve been friends.
I look around and the entire room is filled with wide-open mouths and closed eyes.
Brad’s sweet violin layers on top of Cadence’s piano, and it’s like voices were never needed for this song.
I can’t take my eyes off him. His blond bangs are matted with sweat, his shirt, pulled from the confines of his waistband where it was tucked in at the start of the show, is now drenched with sweat and clings to the expanse of his hard, strong chest. His bow strings are devastated, single threads pulled from one end, catching the light with their transparent silken ribbons. His eyes are closed, always closed, listening to every note from the four instruments around him, living in that audio sphere. In heaven.
I really can’t take my eyes off him.
And then, on cue, the single bumblebee light that has still been dancing over the crowd bursts into a trillion stars, mirroring the lyrics.
We lift up hands hoping to catch the fragments and we wave our illuminated cell phones screens in time, wanting to be a part of the star-studded ocean washing over us.
The music builds and builds, soaring as the guys become one with their instruments, and us with them.
And then suddenly, it is quiet.
And dark.
The bows move no more, and the piano is still.
But there’s a roaring in my ears.
Of a thousand people made into fans of the Rock Chamber Boys for life.
***
Fifteen minutes later, I’m still sitting in my seat amongst a sea of empty ones. The lights are on, and the empty water bottles and torn ticket stubs strewn on the dusty floor seem like an unfaithful description of what really happened here. I’m still in a stunned kind of silence.
I have seen the boys play before. Almost countless times, in our days at school. Heard them in their garage, with no one but me and their dogs as an audience. Seen them at monthly school assemblies and year-end graduations.
They have always been good. Prodigies.
But not until today, sitting through a one-hour show of their latest works, did I know that they really are stars. Unreachable.
But instead of being envious or intimidated, I am proud.
Proud that these men who I knew when their voices hadn’t yet dropped are fulfilling their own dreams.
And proud of my friend. Who made an unfair world his own. And my heart with it.
“Hey, you coming?” Hailey calls to me from the entrance to the backstage area. “We’re just making sure everything’s packed, then we’re going to rock on like there’s no tomorrow.”
“So, sleep then?”
“Fucking hell yes.”
I laugh and stand up, looking around this empty hall that to me, will always echo with the sound of Brad’s violin.
“What’d you think?” she asks as I catch up to her.
“Eh, it’s no Yanni.”
She laughs again and grabs my arm. “Come on, let’s go deflate some swollen rock God egos.”
***
“So, what’d you think?” I’m asked again an hour later. This time by Brad.
It’s midnight and we’re back on the guys’ bus waiting for pizza.