The Rock Chamber Boys : The Complete Series

by Daisy Allen

  “Where are we?” he asks after I don’t say anything for a few minutes.

  “My class had a concert here once.”

  “Here?” Marius looks at the ruins.

  “Yeah, we had lights set up and the performers brought their own folding chairs, it was standing audience only. For the last performance concert of the year.”

  “What did you play?” I don’t say anything. “Anca? What did you perform that night?”

  “I didn’t play anything.” I tell him.

  “I thought-…”

  “I said my class played.”

  Marius is confused, but doesn’t say anything.

  “I was supposed to play. But… but I couldn’t.”

  Marius looks up at me, understanding. “Was it… your first time? The stage fright?”

  “No, but… but it was the worst. I froze, and didn’t move for the entirety of the concert. Everyone was packed up and halfway home before I got up from my stool. Me and my harp, abandoned by the side of the road in Nice.” I can’t help but let out a sound I think is a chuckle. At the ridiculousness of the memory.

  “Oh, Anca. I didn’t realize your stage fright was that ba-…”

  “It wasn’t stage fright.”

  “But-…”

  “I call it that, because…it’s easier to explain. Than what it really was.”

  “What was it?”

  I take a breath. Tell him, Anca. He deserves to know. “It was, a completely and utter breaking down of every single ounce of self-worth, self-belief I ever had.”

  “Oh, Anca. By who?”

  “By my harp teacher.”

  “What?”

  “He… he called himself the Maestro, which is what we called him as well. He… fell in some sort of obsession with me. And he started telling me no one would ever understand my talent. That in their world, I had no talent. That people would laugh if they heard how I played. And that… he was the only person in the world who understood me.”

  “Oh, Anca…”

  “And the worst thing is… I believed him. I believed every single world he ever said. He was a brilliant harpist. The best I’ve ever heard. The best Jez had ever heard…”

  Marius’ head tilts at my brother’s name.

  “Jez… Jez found him for me. He hired him, when the teacher I then had said she didn’t have anything more to teach me. He found the… the Maestro, paid for him, got him transferred to London.”

  “Did he know? About… about what was happening?”

  “No. Not until much later. Until it was too late. I didn’t… I didn’t want to tell him what was going on. I guess I didn’t really understand it myself. But I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Jez is a musical genius… he would know if someone was a good teacher for me or not. He must have thought this was the best person for me. Who was I to question it? So I didn’t.”

  “He couldn’t have known this.” Marius shakes his head.

  “I know. I don’t blame him. At all.”

  There’s a pause. And we both look out at the horizon. The sun is almost reaching its peak height in the sky and the glare off the water is blinding.

  “But he does. Blame himself.” Marius muses. He understands. Of course, he does. He knows Jez probably as well as I do. In some ways probably even more.

  “Yes. But he shouldn’t. He saved me. I mean, he literally saved me. Rescued me. Broke his hand doing it, too.” I grimace at the memory of taking him to the hospital, his knuckles bleeding, his hand swollen like a grapefruit. His hand, his livelihood. And him just smiling at me, like it was nothing. Like he would do it again for me, a hundred times.

  “Oh my god. When he broke his hand about a year ago when he disappeared for a week, that was… that was with you?”

  I nod. I don’t know how much they know about me, or what he told them about that.

  “We gave him so much shit about that. We had to postpone a tour for two months.”

  “I know. I felt terrible.”

  Marius starts pacing in front of me, his head shaking wildly, the memories coming back to him, finally making sense. “He was a mess. We all thought he’d been sleeping with someone’s wife and their husband had come home at the wrong time!”

  “Ha. No. He broke it being my hero.” I shrug. There’s no other way to describe it.

  “Yeah. That he is,” Marius sighs. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because I thought you needed to know.”

  “About you, or about Jez?”

  “About us both. And why we are the way we are.”

  “And why we… you and me, can’t be the way we want to be?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No, just the opposite. After Jez got me away from the Maestro, it took me a long time to get better. I barely recovered enough to pass my senior year, but I did, because I just wanted to be done and start living my life. And when Jez offered the chance to come play with you guys, I didn’t know if I was going to be able to do it.”

  “But you did. And you’re killing it. You did it!”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No. I’m doing it – because of you. And only you.”

  “Me?”

  “You helped me. That first night. And then you kept helping. You literally taught me how to breathe again. And now I can play. I can finally do what I’ve wanted to do my whole life. Except there’s one small change. Now I want to play for you. With you. You’re the reason, Marius.”

  “Anca.”

  “So – as much as I owe Jez for saving my life. I owe you for giving it meaning again. For giving me the power to take my own destiny into my own hands again. I don’t want to lose that, Marius. And I don’t want to lose you.”

  He comes over and pulls me against him. And I’m home. “What do we do about Jez?”

  “I don’t know.” I really don’t. “But we will figure it out. Together.”

  “Together.”

  I lean my head on his chest, and the thump thump that meets me spells out everything I’m feeling about him too.

  ***

  “You’re late.” Jez scowls at me as he sees us walking into the band’s suite at the hotel together.

  “5 minutes!” I reply, every cell in my body already tensing at his mood.

  “5 minutes is 5 minutes. This is serious work, Anca. If you can’t be professional then you can’t be here at all. We’re not fucking around. A lot of people are relying on us.”

  “Whoa, man.” Marius steps in before I can step in. “We were just downstairs talking to Hailey. She had some fan mail for give to Anca.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Marius. My little sister needs to learn some better work ethics if she wants to make it in this industry. It’s not all stars and candy.”

  “Hey…” Marius cuts in again, and I stop him with a hand on his chest. It’s hard, as tense as I’m feeling.

  “It’s ok,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm, before turning back to address my brother. “Fine. Sorry I’m 5 minutes late. What are we doing now?”

  “If you’d been here...”

  I cut him off. “You’re wasting time lecturing me, just tell us what we’re supposed to be doing now.”

  “Get your gear ready. They’re taking it down to the stage in an hour,” he snaps at me.

  “Fine. Done. Come on, Marius.” I pull on his shirt, but he doesn’t budge. He’s locked in a stare battle with my brother.

  “Marius!” I raise my voice to get his attention, and he sighs and relents, and follows me to our instruments.

  “That was bullshit, Anca,” he whispers when we’re out of Jez’s earshot.

  “I know, he’s just… he’s just processing. Ignore it.” I tell him, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. My whole life I’ve been the apple of my brother’s eye. Now I’m the thorn that causes him pain.

  Marius turns to where Jez is holding up his cello, running his fingers over it, checking
every inch of it, before turning back to me.

  “But he can’t speak to you like that, Anca, brother or not. I’m not going to tolerate him being rude to you, you know that, right?”

  The butterflies in my stomach tell me without words how much his words mean to me.

  “Funny, you should say that. Because I recall someone once telling me my conversation skills couldn’t keep a chair stimulated.” I say, trying to lighten the mood, giving him a little nudge with my foot and winking at him.

  The look on his face is priceless as he moans at the memory and palms his face. “Don’t remind me! I was trying to be so clever.”

  “And you were. You were a surprise.”

  “As are you, babe. Every second.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Marius

  The free concert on the beach is a fucking success.

  The team worked all afternoon to make sure anyone who had a ticket to the original concert would get priority entrance, a free drink and some weird glow stick to wave – Anca’s idea, one that turns out to create the fun, carefree atmosphere we’re been hoping for.

  Thousands of people line the beach and surround the makeshift stage we’ve set up on the esplanade and by the first signs of sunset, local musicians are taking their turn warming up the audience.

  I can’t help getting caught up in it all. The sense of spontaneity, community. We’ve played the big stadiums and fancy halls, but this… this had a nostalgic, rustic feel that we haven’t had since the early years of our performing.

  From the first moment the stage lights up at the beginning of our set, I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

  We try out a new opening, with Seb taking the lead, with a dark, deep, somber rendition of Cedric Vermua’s Dark Cello Lullaby. The heavy, requiem feel of the piece coupled with the unearthly nature of Sebastian’s playing is magical. I watch as the music washes over the awed faces lit by the setting sun and rising moon. And just as they’re settling into the darkness of the piece, Jez joins in with a slow but insistent bass beat, and before you can pick it, the music slowly morphs into a driving pop beat. Brad gives me a wink and counts us down as we join in just as the chorus breaks. And the crowd raises their voices as they recognize the song.

  “You came in like a wreeeeeeeeeeeecking ballllllllllll!” Thousands of voices sing, playing tribute to Ms. Cyrus. It’s a lesson in pop euphoria. The four of us pour ourselves completely into the performance, and it shows. By the end of the first song, I can already see Brad shaking his head and a spray of sweat creating a halo around his head.

  We play another three songs, before the flurry backstage reminds me that it’s time for Anca’s performance.

  As the stage hands busy themselves with setting Anca’s harp and stool up, I step to the front of the stage and take the microphone from Sebastian. He’s a little surprised but steps back and gives me a pat on the shoulder.

  I look out into the crowd, and the focus of thousands and thousands of eyes on me brings on the beginning moments of anxiety, my own stage fright coming back to haunt me. But I bite it back. This is Anca’s moment. And I’m going to make sure she knows that I, and this crowd, is behind her.

  “Bonsoir, tout le monde! Ça va?!?!!??!” The crowd reply with a wave of screams and shouts. I wave to them, raising both my arms in the air.

  “You guys are in for a TREAT tonight! As you’ve probably heard, on our tour we have a VERY special guest star, and that is the one and only, brightest new star in the music world, Ms. ANCA PETRESCU!!! GIVE IT UP FOR ANCA!!!”

  A wall of sound crashes onto the stage from the audience as they yell and scream and whistle as Anca walks onto the stage. She’s dressed in a short, white lace dress with long, kimono sleeves. With the backlight washing over her silhouette as she approaches the harp, she looks like an angel. She doesn’t look at me, or the crowd, but settles quickly and quietly onto her stool. I know she’s trying to block it all out, and I hope it’s my voice she’s hearing in her head, reminding her to breathe.

  But now, I want her to hear my voice, and those of a thousand adoring fans, reminding her to enjoy it all to.

  “I CAN’T HEAR YOU! One more time! GIVE IT UP FOR ANCA!!!!!”

  The crowd obey and the cheers are more deafening than ever. So much so, I notice her tilt her head to the side, and just for a moment, let her gaze wash over the crowd. There’s a slight rise of the sides of her mouth and she lifts her hands to her harp. The cheers subside instantly. A pin falling, a single breath, a cracked smile, can all be heard in the silence.

  And then she plays.

  She plays like I’ve never heard her perform before. It’s sweet, and it’s light and it’s stunningly gorgeous. But most of all, it’s playful. And it’s fun.

  She’s having fun.

  I’ve heard her play like the world is ending, and I’ve heard her play like her heart is breaking. Like the storm clouds looming on the horizon, and like the halo of dark around the full moon. But this is different. This is like the first breath of spring, when you open the shutters and the sun lights up corners of your house and heart that have been dormant for a long, hard, winter.

  I can’t turn away, I’m riveted to my spot on the stage, watching her fingers dance over the strings, drawing the corners of her mouth wider and higher up her face than I’ve seen them in the time we’ve been together.

  When I can’t ignore the building sound from the crowd any longer, I tear my eyes away from her and look out into the audience. And they’ve come alive. Waving their lights and alighted phone screens in the air along to her music, dancing in unison to the melody, her happiness infectious.

  And it’s not until we’re nearing the final chorus do I realize the tune, it’s Beautiful by Christina Aguilera.

  How fitting, I think, as the lyrics run in my head.

  Now that I know her story, I can’t help but fall even more for her than I have.

  And it’s there, in front of ten thousand screaming fans that I realize, there’s no more room to fall.

  I’m there.

  In love.

  Then, like a slow motion montage, I see the crowd’s arms rise in unison, and in the corner of my eye, she jumps from the stool and runs into arms I didn’t even realize I was holding open for her.

  And I spin her, spin her so long, we forget to be dizzy, and simply lose ourselves in a kiss, as the whole world around up cheers.

  The whole world that is, but one.

  ***

  “Oh my god! Did you hear the crowd? They loved it!” She screams excitedly at me as I try to lead her off the stage after our set is done.

  “It was a little hard to miss, babe.”

  “Oh my god, it was for me!”

  I laugh, before I mean to. Because now I understand, this is all new to her. I take her by the shoulders and force her to look at me.

  “Yes, it was for you. It was ALL for you, you were the only one on stage playing. And it was YOUR PLAYING that they were going crazy for. Why? Because you are a freaking star… and don’t you ever let anyone, ANYONE ever tell you otherwise.”

  She doesn’t look away, but for a split second a see a shadow cross her face, before it’s replaced by a look of exuberation. “DAMN. FUCKING. STRAIGHT. I’m a star!” She throws her arms out and yells to no one in particular.

  “You bet your as-, er, HARP you are!” Brad calls out, running towards us. “You were amazing, Anca. Really. There was something different about tonight.”

  “She was happy.” We all turn to see Jez standing there, his hands deep in his pockets, his eyes fixed on Anca.

  There’s something in that revelation, and it coming from him that makes us all stand silent for a moment. Then she pulls away from me and walks over to her brother, pulling him into a hug. I try to look away, wanting to give them a private moment, but I can’t help it. There’s something in the tender way he holds her, her cheek tight against his chest, his resting on her shoulder, that touches me. And makes me regret all th
e hurt that we’ve caused him.

  They pull away, and smile at each other for a moment.

  “I am happy, Jezzy.”

  “I can see that, Anca. I can. Whether I want to admit to the reason or not, the fact is, you are.”

  She steps away from him and back to me, slipping her hand into mine. There’s a tensing of his jaw, but that’s all.

  He nods to me, and I can just barely hear the words under his breath, “Take care of her.”

  I nod back, and he turns on his heels and walks away.

  “Well! Um… okay then!” Brad speaks, to break the ice. “So… who’s turn is it to shout for drinks?”

  “I’ll pay!” pipes up a little voice, and we all spin to see Ben walking up to us hand in hand with his Mom.

  “Deal!” Brad laughs as he picks Ben up into his arms.

  “Mom? Can I borrow some money?” Ben yells to his mom who rolls her eyes and throws her hands up in the air.

  “Why don’t you ask Brad? He’s the millionaire!” Emily suggests, practically.

  “Well, last time I asked him to buy me a toy truck, he said he needs to save his money, so there’s something for me to inherit,” Ben shoots back, his voice serious as Brad tries to hide his smile behind the little boy’s back.

  We all laugh, perfectly able to imagine Brad telling him just that. In the lightness of the moment, I feel Anca lean against me and sigh. For the moment at least, it seems Jez has given his approval, and that might just have to do for now.

  ***

  The next week rushes by in a daze. Four cities and concerts in as many days, we spend most of it either passed out on the tour bus, on stage, or in fast food restaurants trying to get enough sustenance for the next day.

  Anca and I try to steal as much time alone as we can, but the moments are few and very far between. It’s harder still trying not to rub our time together in Jez’s face, who has mostly remained civil, if not avoiding us both when he can.

  The only time we know we are guaranteed some moments alone is that half hour carved out before our performances that I insist we have to sit down so we can both meditate and be prepared for our concerts.