“Cello,” I corrected.
“Listen, I’d learn the fracking harp to stay here.”
I set the bag on the floor and knelt to rummage through it. As hungry as I was, I was desperate for comfortable clothes. Starched pants were fine for a performance but there was no give to the waistline, and I was about to eat my weight in cheese and crackers.
I almost cried again, tears of relief this time, when I spotted my favorite pair of yoga pants (which were, incidentally, never worn for yoga).
“Thank you so much guys. Oh yes, you got my favorite moisturizer too! You’re everything a girl could ask for.” I held up a cotton T-shirt that said, “Baby got Bach” and rubbed my face into it like the Snuggle bear. “Mmm.” It smelled like home and comfort and lazy days. Another outfit, a better bra, thank God, and—
“What’s with the baseball bat?” I lifted out a heavy Louisville Slugger.
Gretchen winked with a knowing nod. “I gotchu, boo.”
“We’ve been concerned,” Roxy added. As always, she was dressed in all black, including heavy black eye liner and a leather coat covering her tattoos. She had been the last to leave the Wraiths and the life that came with Jethro Winston. She was the sharpest-edged but easily the most fragile of all of us. “We heard there was weirdness last night after your concert and suddenly you’re off the map and this random number is texting us. I don’t like this shit.”
“Someone texted you?” I asked, placing the bat back into the bag and taking out a fresh outfit.
“The number was unknown but mentioned the meeting with a time and address. We figured we’d check it out,” Suzie said.
Blithe grinned as she grabbed a batch of grapes. Her almost-see-through eyelashes fluttered with excitement. “We were stoked that you were being assertive and taking the lead for the next meeting.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t me.”
“That’s what I said.” Roxy made a told-you-so face at Gretchen, her dark rimmed eyes squinting at her. “Didn’t sound like you. You’re never that decisive.”
“That feels sort of judgey,” I said.
“I didn’t mean it that way. You’re very go-with-the-flow. It’s a compliment,” Roxy amended.
The words were out there though, stuck in my mind like burrs in socks where I’d be picking at them hours from now. I didn’t think I was indecisive. Was I? I was careful. Was that how they saw me?
“Anyway, we knew there was a risk because it was all very cloak and dagger. We all came together just to be safe.” This from Suzie. “Anybody that chooses to mess with us gals is planning their own funeral.”
“And I have reinforcements in the car.” Gretchen made the shape of a gun with her fingers.
“Where they will stay,” Blithe said pointedly.
I smiled and warmth spread through me again. No time for overthinking. I was so happy to see these ladies and have some non-music time. No ruining it by being a grumpy Gretchen. Plus, we already had a Gretchen. I couldn’t believe Devlin would do this. I had only mentioned the SWS meeting a few hours ago, and he had somehow managed all this.
“This is Devlin’s house,” I explained.
“The Devil of the Symphony,” Blithe gasped.
“Your conductor?” Gretchen raised an eyebrow.
The girls all looked at each other like this information made no sense. To be fair, this information made no sense.
“Okay, you have got to tell us what is going on.” Blithe sipped some pink wine and did a shoulder shimmy of happiness.
“Of course,” I said. “But first, stretchy pants.”
I walked in to find the girls had created a pile of blankets and pillows in front of the massive fireplace that was the centerpiece of the luxurious room. I filled up a plate with a little bit of everything I could fit on it.
“Okay, so if a dolphin is such a lame choice, what animal would you be?” Blithe snapped.
“A shark, obviously,” Gretchen said without delay. “Everybody knows sharks are awesome.”
Roxy rolled her eyes at their antics but spoke to me as I joined them on the floor. “This place is beautiful.”
“I know,” I said. This place was so big and beautiful. It was a shame he lived here all alone. “You should see Devlin’s studio in the basement.”
“What’s his last name, anyhow?” Suzie asked.
“No last name. It’s a stage name. Like Madonna.” Gretchen sniffed the cheese in her hand before taking a nibble. “I looked into him when he started at the SOOK but there wasn’t much. He just sort of appeared on the classical music scene a few years back.”
I thought about that. I would have to ask him his real name. Sure, and then he would just take off his mask and reveal all his secrets to me.
“Okay, now that we are full and more agreeable. Spill it,” Roxy demanded.
In as succinct a manner as I could, I replayed the events of the previous night, and a little before. I started with Devlin showing up at my house unexpectedly, then Carla’s sudden absence, the solo (pause for woot-woots of appreciation), Roddy showing up, and then finally waking up here.
By the time I was done talking, I think an hour had passed and the wine was gone. I sipped my cider and eyed them over the rim as they took in my story.
Gretchen, of course, was the first to speak. “I can’t believe love note guy is back.”
I winced. I had sort of been hoping to keep that part out of the story. But when you only have two exes, and one is Jethro Winston—who obviously wasn’t the one dropping love notes—it wasn’t a surprise that she made the connection.
“Dang it, I hate being new. Who’s the love note guy? What’s that about?” Suzie’s cheeks were flushed, making her emerald eyes sparkle.
Roxy set her empty glass on the granite hearth in front of the fireplace and pulled a blanket to her chin. She yawned sleepily around her sentence. “It’s not just you. I don’t know who he is either.”
“You tell it, Kim. It starts like this, ‘This one time, at band camp …’” Blithe giggled at her own joke and rested her head on the pillow next to Roxy. With Blithe’s pale coloring and Roxy’s edgy-dark look, they were like a yin-yang.
The room had grown warm from the fire despite the chilling winds whistling outside. Our full bellies gave us all a lethargic peace, melting our limbs into wherever the nearest pillow was. I scanned the girls and couldn’t help my contented smile.
“To start, they weren’t love notes. Some were even harsh criticisms, actually. Also, I will have you know it was an orchestra camp—far less phallic-shaped instruments,” I said. “More F-holes, though. And wood.” We all laughed. “My parents basically sent me every summer growing up. Camp Hickory was for the kids of senators and super-fancy old-money types. It was tough to get into. People came from all over the world,” I explained. “You still had to apply, and some really successful people came out of it too.”
“Ohh, like who?” Suzie used the back of her hand to stifle a yawn. “Anybody I know?”
“Well, like Francesca Belia and Karl Norman.” I threw out the names of some of the biggest up and coming classical musicians only to receive blank stares.
“Oh, and YouTube boy … Gah, what was his name? You had the biggest crush on him,” Gretchen ratted me out. Again.
I scrunched up my face. I had really been hoping she’d forgotten about that.
“Who?” Blithe tilted her head in thought.
“You know, the one. He had that huge song and then fell off the map,” Gretchen said. “‘Thoughts of you, my soul on fire,’ uh, something, something, ‘I look at you, but
you—’”
“‘You’re looking at him …’” All five of us sang the rest of the chorus.
“‘Can’t Look Back?’ Oh, I loved that song!” Roxy burst out excitedly before calming herself. “Not that I would ever admit it,” she added flatly. She reached for her phone. The white glow from the screen illuminated her face. “‘Erik Jones had a U.S. number one h
it for ten weeks,’ blah blah, ‘Trouble with manager.’ Hasn’t been heard of since.” She lowered her phone. “I totally remember that guy. He was so hot.”
“Did you know him?” Suzie asked me.
“Oh, gosh no. He was older—a counselor by the time I went. Then he got so huge. He was already on his way to being somebody, but after that song happened, he exploded.”
“Crazy,” Blithe said.
“You were obsessed with that song.”
“Oh my God. Shut up, Gretchen.” Heat flooded my cheeks. “No more booze for you.”
“Come on, it’s adorable. You would listen to it all the time back then.”
Truthfully, I still did from time to time.
“First of all, he was only eighteen when that song came out, but he was super talented. He was a musical virtuoso at camp. Also, we aren’t talking about this. When will you let my embarrassing tween obsession die?”
Not tween—teen. And if I was being honest, I’d still probably squeal and flap my hands with big sloppy tears if he held a concert.
“Never. I will never let that die. That’s what friends do. They keep you humble by rehashing your most embarrassing memories. Preferably at the absolute worst times.” Gretchen blew me a kiss.
I tilted my head with a wry smile. “Gee, thanks.”
“Will someone play the song before I lose my clucking mind? Otherwise, it’ll be stuck in my head all week.” Suzie’s voice got higher with impatience.
“I haven’t heard this in forever,” Roxy said as music from her phone filled the air.
As though we’d rehearsed it, we all started singing the chorus and throwing our arms out. “‘But you, you’re looking at him.’”
Instantly, I was filled with a soothing reassurance that only thinking of your most adolescent feelings can resurrect; when everything felt so bright and shiny and possible. It was hokey and angsty—everything a sixteen-year-old girl needed. We all had that song that lifted us in our darkest mood. That song will forever remind me of the happy times before camp ended the way it did.
“It’s all very dramatic,” Roxy said over the song.
“Oh, you love it.” Blithe poked her shoulder.
When the music stopped, I had hoped the previous topic would have been abandoned. Not likely with Gretchen around.
“Okay, the notes. Explain.” Like a hound dog on scent, that one.
“Fine.” I made a face at her. “Roddy was first chair violin and basically the quarterback of the symphony.”
“Heh. Nerds.”
I shook my head at Gretchen.
“He was very popular—everyone loved him. They were drawn to him, really. He’d play Oasis on his guitar at night around the campfire and we’d all swoon. He was just inherently cool, you know? When we started hanging out, I felt like somebody. It was just in the summers, and totally innocent. Though I did get to second base with him once on a boat.” I wiggled my eyebrows saucily.
I kept my tone light, leaving out the memories I preferred not to think about. I never talked about the dark side of my last summer there. I didn’t want to be the one that still felt broken.
“Summer love,” Roxy said dryly.
“What about the notes then?” Suzie asked.
“Oh. All the time, he left me these notes about my playing in my cello case.”
Gretchen had gone a whole two minutes without talking so she felt the need to say, “She still has them. They’re mean.”
“They were helpful,” I corrected. “He was the only one who didn’t suck up to me or treat me like this delicate flower. I liked it.”
“She was obsessed.”
I had a shoebox with all of them still in my closet. It would be a toss-up between that box and my cello if the house caught on fire and I could only save one. Honestly, the cello could be replaced. Those notes though? They got me through the worst times. Through rehab. I knew it was silly. I knew I was a romantic, but there was something about always knowing somebody believed in me that gave me strength.
“So romantic,” Blithe said on a yawn. “And now he’s back.”
“He said he wants to get to know me again,” I explained.
“Is that what you want?” Roxy asked.
“I think so, but I need to focus on helping Devlin first.”
“I’m glad to see you doing this,” Gretchen said with rare sincerity. “A little change of pace might be good.”
“I know we didn’t know each other until after high school. But I knew of you. You were so motivated back then. I was always so envious that you knew exactly what you wanted. I didn’t even know what shampoo I liked yet.” Blithe frowned at her empty glass.
I smiled but dread coiled deep in my belly. The Kim I was in high school was long gone. I hadn’t been her since before Jethro and rehab. I hated sounding whiny. I was fine being where I was. I was pretty happy—mostly.
“I’m just glad that you’re safe,” Suzie said.
Suzie had been taken by a violent biker gang once and, understandably, still carried that with her. I squeezed her foot. She looked up and we shared a smile.
“Me too. I mean, I guess I was taken, but platinum style,” I teased.
“I had my doubts,” Roxy said. “Who just whisks you off to their mansion in the mountains with a large underground crypt that was converted to a lair?”
“It was never a crypt, and it’s not a lair now. It’s a music room. It’s amazing,” I said.
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” Roxy flipped out a hand.
“Still, I doubt a kidnapper would invite your closest friends to hang out and eat fancy finger foods,” Gretchen said. “I have more questions.”
“Of course you do,” I said.
“I thought we hated Devlin?” Gretchen said.
“I never said that. I said he was tough.”
“And he’s not anymore?” Suzie asked.
“No, no. He’s still prickly.” His tough guy act had always seemed so thin to me. Even when he yelled, it was like he was scared.
“But?” Roxy asked.
“But what?”
“I felt a ‘but’ coming,” she said.
“Me too,” Blithe added.
“There’s a joke there that I’m not gonna touch.” Gretchen picked at a cuticle.
“Okay, buuut,” I dragged out the word. I debated sharing what he said about me inspiring him, but was worried it wouldn’t mean the same to them out of context. “It’s nice to be challenged sometimes. If that makes sense.”
“Totally,” Suzie said on a wistful sigh.
Gretchen threw a grape at Suzie’s head. “Ugh. Nobody wants to hear from you.”
“Why? What did I do?”
“You’re all fresh and in love and it’s a little much, to be honest.” Gretchen’s words were sharp, but she had been the one to push Suzie when Ford was fighting for her.
“Haters gonna hate,” Suzie said.
“Taters gonna potate.” Blithe nodded.
“I feel like we are talking about potatoes a lot tonight,” I said.
“We are all so very classy,” Suzie said. “We definitely deserve to be here.”
The room filled with laughter. Having the girls here was just what the doctor ordered. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I thought again about what Devlin shared with me earlier, and how he needed success. It wasn’t just about what held me back anymore. After all, what’s the worst that could happen? Me helping him wouldn’t really change anything for me, but it could change everything for him. Give him what he wanted. Maybe I owed that to the universe.
“Time’s up, ladies.”
We all turned toward the hall where Devlin’s voice boomed out of nowhere. The hallway was shadowed so it was hard to make out anything except a gray man-shaped silhouette taking up most of the doorway to the hall.
“It’s getting late,” he finished in a slightly softer tone.
He looked and sounded intimidating, but that was what he did. That was his whole
shtick. The girls all shared equal looks of shock and awe. He stepped forward so the light from the fire illuminated his mask. He was wearing the skull one again. It was decidedly ominous in the soft light of the night with the rain falling outside.
“Holy frijoles,” Gretchen muttered next to me.
After a moment I cleared my throat and slowly the girls stood and collected their things.
His gaze seared the side of my face. How long had he been standing there listening? I was desperate to see if he was looking only at me or if he was studying any of my equally lovely friends.
“Kim, you pick the next activity,” Roxy said.
“I don’t care. Whatever y’all pick is fine,” I said. “I just don’t know what my schedule is going to be like for a while,” I explained.
“Well, don’t lollygag too long.” Blithe hugged me. “We need updates about your beau.”
“Wait, another Winston brother?” Roxy said.
“No. Beau like boyfriend. Roddy,” Gretchen clarified.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yet.” Blithe smiled sweetly.
“Thank you for coming,” Devlin said stiffly.
“Thanks for having us,” Suzie said. The others added to the sentiment.
“I’m happy to housesit anytime.” Gretchen pulled out a business card and handed to him.
He glanced over it before sliding it in his pocket with a nod.
“I’ll walk y’all out,” I said on a laugh, and brushed past Devlin.
Chapter 13
Never let them see your nerves.
DEVLIN
As the women gathered up their things, silence finally descended like a blessing. Even in my music room, twenty yards below ground, I had heard their chatter for the last few hours. Their laughs and yells leaked in as though carried through the pipes. I couldn’t think, let alone focus on composing. And then that damn crap pop song … in my house.
The room looked like a group of hobos had camped there for a weekend, not a few hours of chatty women. A whole pack of them.
The Treble With Men Page 8