by Daisy Allen
And every time I asked where she was and how I could get in contact with her, the answer was the same - read the letter. Meaning, give her space.
***
Today is the last concert on the tour and it goes by without a hitch. Why shouldn’t it? We could do it blindfolded. Cadence filled in as guest performer for the last week of the tour. And after today’s tour wrap up party, she and Sebastian will fly back to Australia for a few weeks while she sees out the school term, and he can stay home and pretend to be a kept man for once.
The crew is packing up all our touring equipment as I sit here, watching our stage life get put away in trunks and trucks until the next time we’re on the road. Hundreds of lights and sound equipment. Music stands and cables. Thousands and thousands of feet of cables. Where did they all come from? It’s somewhat depressing watching it all get put away to gather dust after months of use.
“Hey,” Cadence says, coming over and sits on an equipment trunk next to me. She hands me a beer and we clink bottle necks.
“Hey.”
“Watching life pass you by?” she asks.
“Feels like it. Who knew there was so much… stuff? What happened to the dream of it being just four guys and our instruments, playing whatever the hell we wanted, to whoever the hell wanted to listen to it?”
“What happened was a lot of ‘whoevers’ wanted to listen to the ‘whatevers’ you were playing and willing to pay a lot for the privilege. It’s a good thing. Look-” she points to the tens of people working, “You’re keeping all these people in work.”
“Try not being reasonable for once.” I frown at her, and she just laughs.
“I can give that a try, how ‘bout this- isn’t it time you get off your sulky ass?”
“Dude. Reasonable, not mean.”
“Sorry. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. I miss her.”
“Fair.”
“And I wish I could talk to her.”
“What would you say?”
I pick at the bottle label, running through the words I’ve practiced in my head for the last two weeks.
“Not much. Just this. ‘I was wrong.’”
Cadence just nods, but doesn’t say anything.
“I was wrong, to think that I knew what was best for her, and not listen to what she wanted.”
“What about the Jez thing?”
I shrug. “I can’t help that I fell in love with his little sister. I just can’t. And I can’t change it, and I wouldn’t. I think he and I are okay now, but maybe it’s because she’s not here and he can put it behind him. But I can’t make any promises that when… if she comes back, I’m not going to do everything I can in my power to get her back. I think that Jez sees that it wasn’t just a fling. We’re meant to be.”
She smiles and leans her head on my shoulder. “My Mazzy, all growed up.”
I laugh, “Yeah, it took a punch to the face and a knee to the dongleberries to make it happen.”
She sits up and hands me piece of paper. I just look at it, confused.
“Those things you just said to me, it’s time to go tell her. This is where she’s staying.”
I stare at her open-mouthed. No one has told me anything about where I can find her for the last month.
“Wha-… how?”
“Jez gave it to me.”
“What? When?”
“A few days ago. He hasn’t seen her since she left either, but they e-mail now and then. He told me to give it to you, when I thought you were ready. You know what this means, right?”
“You think I’m mature and old?”
“No!” She shakes her head. “It means… you have his blessing. He wouldn’t tell you where she is, if he wasn’t okay with it.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“I guess I better…”
“Go. It’s time you guys buried that rusty hatchet.”
I give her a big hug and a kiss on her cheek, thankful for her in my life.
“Oi! That’s my ball and chain! Get your own!” Sebastian yells from the stage where he’s getting in the way of the roadies.
“I’m trying, trust me!” I yell back.
“Oi, LimpTits!” I call out, and Jez pokes his head out from backstage.
“What do you want, maggotsack?”
I hold up the piece of paper, waving it for him to see and tilt my head.
“Well, are you fucking coming or not?”
Chapter Forty-three
Anca
I can smell the field of grass, even before I see it.
Or maybe I’m just imagining it as I walk down along this narrow road, that when I turn the corner, there it will be. A thick, decadent carpet of green laid out for me, ready for me to take my shoes off, and dance barefoot atop of its luscious leaves. But I can’t indulge for too long. The church bell will ring, and like Fraulein Maria, I’ll be gathering my things and running to class. Late, almost always late.
So, no dancing today, I tell myself. I have so much to do before the kids arrive, I want to give them a big surprise, something I’ve prepared for them over the weekend.
I’ve only been back in Romania, here in Busteni, the small mountain village I grew up in, for three weeks, but it feels like I haven’t been away at all.
The classroom I teach in now is the same class in which I learned my own scales. The field of green in front of the school I dance in, it’s the same I skinned my knees on so many years ago. How could I be away for so much of my life? And yet never feel like I ever left.
I was so lucky that my old school accepted my offer to teach a basic music program until the summer, just to see if it would be something the students and parents welcomed. No fee, of course. I just wanted to contribute something to the community.
It didn’t take long for the other teachers and students to fully support the program. It’s a small school with only just over 200 elementary aged students, but the region isn’t rich and it had been years since they had offered music as a subject. It pained me to see how much the children lacked music education. What a waste – all those years, starved of the pleasure of music.
But as busy as I was with preparing a lesson plan and getting to know the school and its limited resources, not a day goes by I don’t miss him. I don’t want to run to the nearest train station and buy a one-way ticket to Marius. Each day I’m here, I grow. I breathe out the bad, and heal. I was too hard on him. He can’t have really understood how hard it was living under Jez’s shadow and control. That every time he made a decision for me, I heard it in the Maestro’s voice.
It just wasn’t our time. It was too soon. I wasn’t ready.
But I am now.
And soon, soon, I will buy that ticket, and face him. And tell him, I’m living my dream now, too. Most of it. There’s just one part missing.
I reach the corner and then, just as it has played out in my mind, I turn the corner.
But there isn’t an empty field of grass.
Instead, there are two big black trucks, parked in the school parking lot.
“What is going on?” I wonder as I run towards the school, gripping my bag.
“Ms. Pestrescu, Ms. Pestruscu! Look!” One of my students comes running up to me, taking my hand and dragging me through the school doors.
“What is going on?”
“Come look, Ms. Pestrescu!” There’s a crowd of students all gathered around me as we run to the music room.
“Excuse me,” I say, pushing through the layers of teachers and students crowding around the door.
“Look!” the students scream.
I do. And I can’t believe what I see.
A classroom filled with instruments and music stands and amplifiers and music and everything a school could ever need to raise the next generation of musicians.
“Wha?” I say, stunned, taking it all in.
“Ms. Petrescu,” the principal says,
pulling away from the crowd and walking towards me, “it seems we are the recipient of a donation from the Vanilie Music Foundation.”
“The what?”
“Vanilie. Romanian for Vanilla,” says a voice behind me.
I don’t need to turn to know it’s him.
But I do.
“Marius.”
“Hi, Anca.”
“What is all this?”
“Well, we were talking,” he steps aside and Jez comes forward from behind him, “Jez and I were talking, and we realized, we weren’t really giving back enough. And well, who else could we get to join us?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, silly girl,” Jez says, shaking his head and smiling.
“How… how did you pay for it all?”
Well, some of it was from the pay we owed you from touring with us. Which you didn’t collect before you ran away,” Marius continues, giving me a wink.
“And the rest, well, we called in some favors, and of course, from now on, we’ll find ways to fund different projects the foundation decides to run. I mean, we can’t hog all the fame and fortune, can we? We need someone to take over when we’re old.”
“I can’t… I can’t believe this. This is… wow.”
“Ms. Petrescu, is this… is this all for us?” one of the children shouts, jumping out from behind her teacher and running up to touch the instruments.
“No! Be careful!” The teacher yells and Jez throws his head back and laughs.
“No! Don’t be careful! Have fun with it! That’s a cello you’re touching… I see you have good taste.” The girl blushes but doesn’t stop touching the cello like it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. “Come, let me show you how to play it,” Jez tells her, holding out the bow to her.
Marius takes my hand and pulls me to the side. I can’t stop looking at him, his hair is longer, his skin darker. But his eyes, his eyes are the same genuine, chocolate brown they always were. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him until now that he’s here right in front of me.
“I can’t believe you did all this. For me.”
“I’m doing it with you. The both of us. If you’re okay with that.”
“Of course. I… it’s what I’m supposed to do, Marius.”
“I see that. You look, you look happy.”
“I am happy.” His eyes drop, and the smile on his face fades a little. I lift my finger to touch his cheek. “I’m happy, but I’m not whole.”
“No?”
“Are you?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer after all the things that have happened, all the time that has passed. “Whole?”
He takes my hand in his, pressing a kiss on my palm and smiles. “I am now, Anca. I am now.”
I smile so much, I think my eyes light up like starlights. “Me too.”
There’s a sudden chanting around us, and I can just make it out, “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” Everyone is shouting. Led by the loudest voice of all, Jez’s.
I shake my head at my brother, before reaching up on my tiptoes and pulling Marius’s mouth down onto mine.
And for one last time, I let someone make my choice for me.
We kiss. And kiss. And kiss. And kiss.
~*~
ROCK ME
A ROCK CHAMBER BOYS NOVEL
~*~
Written by
Daisy Allen
Copyright © 2018 Daisy Allen
Play Me: A Rock Chamber Boys Novel
By Daisy Allen
All rights reserved.
This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the properties of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
This book is dedicated to the
utterly magical healing properties of music.
PROLOGUE
It’s silent.
Totally, completely, silent.
And dark.
So dark, the gentle green glow of light from the exit signs in the far-off distance provides the only relief for the eyes.
Something to focus on, other than the abyss.
Something to focus on, other than the burn of the chemicals flooding into each and every one of my cells, signaling that it’s almost time.
Adrenalin.
It’s fight or flight.
Fight.
Every fucking time, I choose fight.
Fight for my right to be here, right here, and nowhere else in the world in this exact moment in time.
It’s time.
And right on cue, our world explodes into life.
Pure, white bright light. Cleansing everything and everyone of all that came before it.
Nothing exists except what is happening now. It is the new age.
Then, as suddenly as it appears, light recedes into nothing.
And it’s dark again.
We wait, until the cheers die down and it’s silent again.
A single spotlight appears and shines just on me, and I take one long, slow breath.
And I count it in.
One. Two. Three. Four.
It’s fucking on, bitches.
I stomp my foot and clap my hands to the beat in my head.
That unmistakable, iconic, rock of all rock beats.
Queen’s We Will Rock You.
Dum Dum Da. Dum Dum Da.
My bandmates join in on the second loop, from their spots around the stage, still cloaked in darkness.
Dum Dum Da. Dum Dum Da.
And finally, I pull my bow over my cello strings, the driving, thumping, almost repetitive melody dancing over the beat of the stomps and claps.
I can’t help the smile twitching at the corners of my mouth as I hear the crowd stomp along, their cheers filling in all the pockets of silence that was just blanketing us all.
A second cello joins me for the second stanza.
“You beautiful bitch, Sebastian,” I think, as my I picture my bandmate’s fingers going into overdrive over the fingerplate.
It replaces my line and I jump a third below, drawing the harmony out from the strings with my bow, having a play with the arrangement.
Never the same, it’s never the fucking same.
Just the way we like it.
I’ll never get tired of how our cellos fit like perfectly laid out pieces of a music puzzle.
I count the bars in my head, two more until the chorus.
There’s suddenly the taste of metal in my mouth, blood, my teeth digging hard into my lip without me realizing it. Out of pure anticipation.
I’ve been waiting for this moment a fucking long time.
We’ve been saving this for a special performance, and this is it.
The chorus.
The single spotlight surrounding me suddenly blasts into a thousand, splintered light dancing over every inch of the stage, the crowd, the walls, the ceiling, and every fucking voice in the place raises in unison, in song. “WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU!”
“Sing iiiiiiittt,” I yell into the microphone, my voice echoing off the walls.
And they obey, as the rest of my band joins in with their violin and viola, rocking out every chord as Queen intended.
“What are we gonna do?” I hear Sebastian scream into his mic, and right on time, the crown joins in again, “WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU!!”
My fingers burn as they move over the cello, each note ingrained in their cells from hours of practice, as my other arm moves the bow back and forth, the torn blonde horse hairs whipping back and forth, shining like spun gold against the light. The sound fills me from the floor up, the vibrations from the sound system like heart beats ag
ainst my shoes.
Giving me life.
There’s a break in the cello part, the perfect moment to make my move. Sebastian glances over to me and I flash him a grin and he nods and gives me a wink.
It’s on. The solo is mine. We never really know who’s going to take it until we’re on stage. Solo performance is more than planning. It’s destined. You don’t know your number is up until you’re standing on stage and it calls to you.
I step forward and take my place center stage, tip my head back, taking it all in, and lose myself in the chaos.
I was born for this.
I would die for this.
CHAPTER ONE
Jez
The applause is so loud, I can barely hear the sound of the stage hand’s voice as he’s yelling directions to us.
“Stage left, stage left!” I think he’s saying as we’re ushered backstage.
“Stay here guys,” someone tells us, gesturing to an empty spot right in the wings. “Your category’s up next.”
“Fuck!” Sebastian says, as we’re all pushed together in a tight circle.
“Shush! Quiet, and no swearing!” Someone with a clipboard reprimands him.
“Oh shit, I’m so fucking sorry.” Sebastian whispers back, covering his mouth.
“Nice one.” I roll my eyes at him.
He frowns and punches me on the shoulder. “Leave me alone, I’m nervous.”
I don’t blame him. You never get used to this. Waiting to hear, waiting to hear if we’ve won it. Won a goddamn freaking Grammy. But this one… this one’s special. Song of the year. This one’s an original, and borne from nothing but our hearts and souls. This is the one we’ve all been waiting for.
I look down, only just realizing we’ve managed to clasp each other’s hands. I squeeze whoever’s hand I’m holding tight, and Marius yelps a little, and looks at me. He looks even more nervous than Sebastian does.
“Good luck, guys,” I whisper to my band brothers.