by Jae
Drawn to it almost against her will, she put her hand on the lid. It felt warm and smooth. She hesitated, glanced over her shoulder, and when she saw that no one was around, she sat down on the piano bench. As a child, she had spent so many hours on this bench that it probably had grooves from her backside. After another glance over her shoulder, she lifted the lid and settled her fingers on the keys.
She sat there for a long time without playing. Hesitantly, she tapped out a single note and then played a D major scale to limber up her fingers.
The piano was kept in good tune. Not that she had expected anything else.
She knew her mother wanted her to play something classical, but she wasn’t in the mood to cater to her parents’ expectations. If they didn’t accept her the way she was, that was their problem, and that included her sexual orientation and her choice in music.
Almost without a conscious decision on her part, her fingers slid over the keys, coaxing the first notes of “Odd One Out” from the instrument. God, it had been some time since she’d last played. None of the songs she had performed during her world tour had her at the piano—“Who do you think you are? Alicia Keys?” her manager always said whenever she wanted to include a piano piece in her song list. So these days, her guitar and her voice were her main instruments. And my body, she mentally added and let out a sigh. More and more, it was all about the flashiest show, the sexiest costumes, and the most erotic dance moves.
Here, in this house, it had always been just about the music, even if it was her father’s style of music, and Leo had to admit it was very freeing.
“Odd One Out” hadn’t been one of her greatest hits, so she hadn’t played it in years, but the melody and the lyrics quickly came back to her. With every note, the movement of her fingers became more controlled and nimble.
Holly had been right. It was a good song. One of the last Leo had written on her own, without the input of her songwriting team.
She let the emotions wash over her.
When the last note faded, she sat there for a few minutes longer. This was it—this was how she wanted to feel playing her music. Too bad it couldn’t always be this way.
Why not? a voice in her head piped up.
Before she could address the question, a creaking floorboard made her look up.
Her mother stood in the doorway. The apron tied around her hips indicated that she’d been cooking. “Don’t stop. It was lovely.”
The piano lid she’d been about to close almost slid from her fingers. Her mother thought one of her songs was lovely? But then again, she had always been the more tolerant one of her parents. “Nah. I’m done for the day. Just wanted to stretch my fingers a little.”
She got up and squeezed past her. Her mother’s disappointed gaze followed her, but Leo ignored it. After thirteen months on stage, she wasn’t in the mood to play for an audience, even an audience of one.
The door to her father’s room, which was closed most of the time, stood open for a change. When Leo went to walk past it, a sound from within the room stopped her. It was her father’s voice. Had he called her name? She wasn’t sure, so she stuck her head into the room.
He was in his wheelchair, facing the window.
“Was there something you needed?” Leo asked.
“Old,” he said.
She wished Holly was there to translate, but as far as Leo knew, she was upstairs somewhere, taking a break before lunch. Hesitantly, she circled the wheelchair so she could see his face. “Um, what?”
He didn’t turn his head to look at her but kept staring out the window. “No. Rust. Rusty.” He lifted his good hand and pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the living room.
“What do you…? Oh!” Understanding hit her like a bucket of ice water. “You mean my piano playing is pretty rusty?”
He nodded.
Great. The first time he really talked to her in ages, and it turned out he was criticizing her. She shook her head at herself. Why did you expect anything else? It had been like this for as long as she could remember.
“Bush…um, cleaning. No. Um, pruning. Remember?”
Oh yeah. Leo remembered only too well what he had always told her in the past: Playing the piano was like pruning hedges. A little and often was the key. That was how he had urged her to practice every day.
“Maybe if you live in a tiny little town with nothing else to do, you’ve got all the time in the world to prune your hedges every day. But when am I supposed to do that? When I’m on the road, it’s a constant whirlwind of practice, dance rehearsals, sound checks, concerts, interviews, and after-parties.”
He turned his head in her direction and made an impatient motion with his left hand, probably to cut her off, but she continued. She had been silent for much too long already, and now it burst out of her with the force of water that had been freed from a dam.
“You don’t understand my life. You never did. You never made the slightest effort to. Can’t you be even a tiny bit proud for once instead of criticizing everything I do?”
He just stared at her, either unable or unwilling to answer.
“Why am I even talking to you?” she muttered and marched to the door.
No sound came from behind her. She realized she was straining her ears, waiting for him to apologize or to say something more positive, and a wave of anger at herself swept over her. Why had she even come here, risking her career? Had she really expected things to change, that he might tell her how proud he was or how much he loved her? She might as well expect him to get up and walk across the room all on his own.
Taking the stairs two at a time, she rushed to her room and slammed the door shut behind her.
The door to Leo’s room rattled in its frame.
Holly peeked out of her room, but there was nothing to see except for the closed door. Exhaling, she sat back down on her bed, reached over to her nightstand, and turned the volume on the baby monitor back up.
When Gil had strained to get out the first words, Holly had rushed to the door, thinking he needed some help. But then she’d realized that he wasn’t talking to her—he’d been talking to his daughter.
As far as she knew, they hadn’t talked since Leo was back. She would have loved to know what they were saying to each other, but she didn’t want to disrespect either of them by listening in, so she had turned down the volume on the receiver until she couldn’t understand their words anymore.
Judging by the way Leo had slammed her door, the conversation hadn’t gone too well.
Should I…?
She hesitated, remembering her resolution to act like a professional nurse and nothing else toward Leo. But her compassion urged her up from the bed. Whatever had happened between Leo and her father, Holly knew instinctively that Leo wouldn’t talk to her mother about it.
She slid the receiver into her back pocket, tiptoed across the hall, and paused in front of Leo’s door.
Just as she was debating with herself whether she really should knock, the door opened and Leo came storming out.
Once again, they collided with each other and ended up in an almost embrace, clutching each other to keep their balance.
“Are you okay?” Holly whispered, tightly holding on to Leo, who in turn rested her hands on Holly’s hips. Leo’s perfume—orange blossoms, almond, and a barely there touch of musk—teased her senses.
“Yeah.” Was it just her imagination, or was Leo’s voice even huskier than usual? Leo forced a smile. “It’s not like you’re a three-hundred-pound defensive tackle.”
“No, I meant… I heard you slam your door. Did something happen?”
For a moment, Leo’s expression was completely vulnerable before it closed off. She let go and stepped past Holly. “I’m fine. I just need some fresh air.” When she reached the stairs, she turned back around. “Want to come?”
&n
bsp; “I wish I could,” Holly said and found that it was the truth. After their conversation in the kitchen last night, she had a feeling they really could talk to each other. “But I’m working right now…” She pointed downstairs to where Gil’s room was.
“Oh. Yeah. Of course. See you later, then.” Leo bolted down the stairs.
Holly leaned on the banister and stared at her back. When the front door closed behind Leo, she put the baby monitor back on her nightstand and went to get Gil ready for his appointment with the speech therapist.
The walk had helped clear Leo’s head, and a stop at Slice of Heaven for two apricot-orange cream scones had improved her mood considerably. She had eaten hers on the way home, and now she was holding on to the paper bag with the other like a hunter proudly carrying home her prey.
As she stepped into the house, Holly’s voice came from her father’s room. It dampened her mood a little since it meant she couldn’t hand over the scone right now. Then she realized that Holly wasn’t talking to her father—she was singing.
If you can call it that. Sounds more like a cat that had its tail stepped on. Leo winced a little at the off-key singing, but mainly, she found it adorable. What Holly lacked in musicality, she made up for in enthusiasm.
She smiled and kept listening as she slowly climbed the stairs.
It took her until she was halfway up to recognize the song. Hey! That’s one of mine! In fact, it was “Odd One Out,” the song she had played just this morning. Holly seemed to know the lyrics by heart.
Leo grinned and hummed along.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she could still hear Holly singing, this time not directly, but through the baby monitor on Holly’s nightstand. She stood in front of the open door to Holly’s room for a moment, listening. God, how she enjoyed the irony that her father, who had criticized her piano playing, now had to listen to Holly singing one of her songs.
Her grin faltered as another realization hit her: if she could hear Holly through the baby monitor, Holly had probably heard every single word she had said to her father earlier too.
Goddammit! She could have warned me. Her fingers tightened around the paper bag. Instead of warning her, Holly had pretended she hadn’t heard a thing. It was like being spied on in her own home, the one place on earth where she thought she was free of the tabloids and fans constantly observing her.
Great. And I even brought home a scone for her! Now she felt like a fool. She hurled the paper bag through the open door. It landed on the bed, but it didn’t feel satisfying at all.
With a growl, she went to her room and shut the door behind her.
After only a minute or two, a knock sounded. It was probably her mother, demanding to know where she’d been and why she had missed lunch. “Yeah?”
The door swung open. Instead of her mother, Holly peeked into the room, a broad grin on her face and the paper bag in her hand. “Is it from you?”
“What, you think it was the scone fairy?” It could have been a funny remark, but Leo’s anger gave it a sharp edge.
A frown replaced Holly’s smile. She pushed the door open more fully and entered. “Is everything okay? You sound kind of…I don’t know…angry with me. Did I do something wrong?”
Holly had gone even paler than usual, and her clear, blue eyes were squinting at Leo in confusion.
Boy, she’s good. Possibly even better than Leo’s latest ex, who had lying and manipulating down to an art. She had managed to look affronted even when Leo had caught her stealing money from her. “I thought you were different, not one of the lying, scheming people who’d do anything to get into my good graces and think nothing of violating my privacy for the right price.”
Holly blinked several times. “Violating your privacy?”
“Oh, come on.” Heat bubbled up inside of her at the faux-innocent expression on Holly’s face. Did Holly really think she was that stupid? “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear every single word I said to my father through your little spy instrument.”
“You think I’m spying on you?” Holly’s voice ended in an incredulous squeak.
God, she was almost convincing. Leo found herself wanting to believe her, but she tamped down on the impulse. She’d been stupid like that before, and it had never ended well. “How else would you have known I was upset when I got back upstairs earlier?”
“Maybe because you were banging your door like a sulking teenager—exactly like you’re behaving right now, making stupid accusations.”
They faced each other in a silent stare-down. Holly didn’t give an inch. Her blue eyes, usually twinkling with good humor, now looked like arctic ice. Leo, used to flatterers and yea-sayers, couldn’t help respecting her for not backing down.
“My word might not mean much to you, but I promise I didn’t listen in on your conversation,” Holly said. “As soon as I realized the two of you were talking, I turned down the volume so I couldn’t hear you anymore.”
Over the past fourteen years, Leo had learned not to trust blindly. People had made promises and had sworn to tell the truth while lying through their teeth too many times. But somehow, she believed Holly. She wanted to believe her, no matter how foolish it might be.
When Leo didn’t answer, Holly walked out and closed the door behind her, pointedly not banging it but closing it in a civilized manner.
Leo winced. Message received. She really hadn’t been on her best behavior today.
Holly’s footsteps faded away while Leo wrestled with herself. Maybe she should just let it go. It didn’t matter if she had wrongly accused Holly, right? At some point, Holly would end up betraying her in some way.
But another part of her didn’t want to believe that.
With a curse, she jumped off the bed, raced across the room, and tore open the door. “Holly, wait!”
Holly had reached her room and opened the door. Now she turned and looked at her with a wary expression.
“Wait, please,” Leo said more softly. “I want to… I need to…” It was hard to get out the word, partly because it had been a long time since she’d had to say it. “…apologize.”
Holly’s tense stance loosened. “I really didn’t listen in on your conversation.”
“I believe you,” Leo said—and she did. What a weird feeling. It felt like standing on a shaky footbridge over a deep canyon. “I just… Knowing you could have listened in without me realizing… It made me feel very vulnerable. That’s why I behaved so…”
“Like an ass?” Holly supplied.
Leo winced. “You’re not cutting me any slack, are you?”
“Why should I? Because you’re Jenna Blake?”
“No. I don’t want to be Jenna Blake.” She considered that statement for a moment. There was more truth to it than she wanted to acknowledge. “Well, at least not here. That’s the one good thing about Fair Oaks. I get to be just Leontyne here.”
“All right, Leontyne Blake. I accept your apology.” Holly cracked a smile, and the humorous twinkle was back in her eyes. “Considering you brought me a scone. Or did you poison it?”
“Well, we could share it, just to make sure,” Leo said. “I’ll eat half, and if I don’t fall over in mortal agony, you’ll know it’s safe.”
Holly clutched the paper bag to her chest. “Oh no, you don’t get my scone. I bet you had one already.”
For a moment, Leo stared. Did Holly really know her that well already? “Okay, okay, you can have it all.”
“You could keep me company while I eat.” Holly waved the paper bag in the direction of her room. “Maybe tell me what’s going on between your father and you.”
“I need more than half a scone for that conversation,” Leo muttered.
Holly playfully held the bag with the scone out of reach. “I thought we established that you’re not getting any of my scone?”
“What kind of friend are you to deny me in my hour of need?”
Friend… The word seemed to echo between them. It was a little too soon to call them that, but Leo realized that it was what she wanted. She hadn’t had a true friend in forever—someone who appreciated her for herself, not for her fame, her money, or her body—and she had a feeling Holly could be that kind of friend.
Finally, Holly shrugged. “A hungry one.”
“All right. You eat. I’ll tell you the sad story of my life.” She followed Holly into the guest room.
It had changed since Leo had last lived in the house. The four-poster bed and the sunflower wallpaper of the past had been replaced with more modern furniture and cream-colored walls. Either Holly had left her personal touch on the room, or her parents had renovated it to make her feel welcome.
They sat on opposite ends of the bed. Holly pulled the scone out of its bag and tore off a piece for Leo. Their fingers brushed as she handed it over.
Leo had always thought that tingly feeling at the touch of hands was a thing that only happened in sappy romance novels. Well, apparently, she was wrong about many things today.
But Holly bit into her scone as if she hadn’t noticed, so Leo ignored it too. No sense in ruining a new friendship before it even got started.
“So?” Holly asked around a mouthful of scone. “Want to tell me what happened with your father this morning?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. I played the piano. He didn’t approve.”
Holly licked a crumb from the corner of her mouth, and Leo had to look away.
Man, being friends with Holly would be so much easier if she didn’t look so sexy while eating.
“What’s not to approve of?” Holly asked. “I heard it. It was beautiful.”
The praise tasted sweeter than the scone. It was almost enough to make her forget her father’s reaction. “My father doesn’t think so. He’s convinced that I’m wasting my life and my God-given talent—his words, not mine—by focusing on pop music.”