by JN Welsh
“Nothing.” She bit back a smile.
After she got the festival water bottle and filled it, she and Tommy hiked what felt like a mile to the location Trinidad texted her to meet him. The notes of classical piano floated through the tent and she recognized Trinidad’s sound. Those notes he stressed that created surprise emotions. Since she’d heard him play for a special concert at Lincoln Center, she’d loved his sound. Now, she had a chance to play with him.
Trinidad’s playing ceased as soon as Nyah and Tommy entered.
“Nyah.” Trinidad’s face beamed with warm tidings.
She waved like a bit of a fan, but Trinidad rectified that by hurrying to her and squeezing her in a hug. His shoulders reached her chest and she bent to return the friendly hug.
Tommy cleared his throat and Nyah turned to him. “Oh, Trinidad. This is my friend Tommy. He’s a friend of my dad’s,” she said.
Tommy stuck his hand out. “Tommy Mills.”
“Nice to meet you,” Trinidad greeted him. “Are you a musician or here to enjoy the festival?”
“Actually, I’m here with one of my clients,” Tommy corrected.
“EDM,” she stated.
“Oh.” Trinidad’s classical snobbery reared its head, which was exactly what she needed. The farther someone she knew stayed away from her Queen Roe performance, the better.
“You don’t like dance music?” Tommy asked.
“It has its place. I’m sure there are many here who are looking forward to enjoying that music.”
Tommy’s widened eyes met hers and she pressed her lips together to keep her smile from taking over her face.
“I’m sure my husband will make his way over to take in those performances and relive his club days.” Trinidad waved the air as if a fly annoyed him.
Understanding softened the harsh evaluation Tommy had been giving Trinidad since they walked in, which confirmed her suspicions. Tommy “Boombox” Mills had a little jealous streak.
“Where is Pierce, anyway?”
“He is checking out the landscape and no doubt getting into trouble.” Trinidad pretended to be annoyed but the love in his eyes for his husband shined through.
“I hope I get to say hello to him at some point,” she said.
“He’ll be at the performance tomorrow,” Trinidad stated, and then shifted gears. “My hope was that we’d play around and see what we come up with. I like the freedom to do whatever we want for this so...”
“Sounds good. Do you mind if we have a mini audience while we practice?” Nyah tilted her head toward Tommy. “That is, if you still want to stay.”
“Actually, I should probably head out and find my artist,” Tommy said.
“You’re sure?” She winked at him.
“Yeah.” He dipped his head, took off his glasses and cleaned them with the microfiber cloth he kept in his pocket.
“Okay. See you around, Tommy.”
“Will someone help you get your bass back?” Tommy asked.
“We’ll get one of the festival staff to give her a ride back,” Trinidad assured him as he sat back at the piano.
“Great.” Tommy backed out of the tent. “Have a good session.”
“Oh, by the way, Tommy, tomorrow evening I’ll also be participating in a live art installation featuring Curtis Sterling. I’m hoping to get Nyah to participate.”
Nyah stiffened. Queen Roe performed tomorrow night. She hadn’t expected Trinidad to invite her to another performance.
Tommy noticed her lack of verbal skills and filled in the dead air. “I’ll try to make it but my artist is performing during that time.”
“Shame. The artist is really existential. Very Dali.” Trinidad painted his hands as if recreating one the Spanish artist’s creations.
“Nyah? Didn’t you say you had some friends coming in who wanted to check out the other artists and musicians tomorrow evening?” Tommy asked.
Her acting skill kicked into high gear. “Yeah. I think they’ll be here for my performance and then wanted to do the festival thing.”
“Try to convince them to come and stop by for a bit,” Trinidad persisted. His influence in the classical world was high and she wanted to leave a sweet taste in his mouth, especially since he’d given her the opportunity to play with him.
“I’ll try, but no promises.” If she was any more noncommittal, she would have just said, “No, sorry.”
“Pleasure to meet you, man,” Tommy interjected. “Nyah. I’ll catch up with you another time.”
* * *
Tommy headed back to his cabana on foot so he could meet up with a few industry people. There weren’t many that he needed to see but he never missed an opportunity to network with new colleagues. On his way from one informal chat with a producer, his feet screeched to a halt when he saw the banner and setup for Trendzy Magazine.
Tommy’s emotions were conflicted when he saw her dirty blond, perfectly coifed hair and the close-fitting royal blue romper she wore. Isabelle Fisher was still sexy as hell but his attraction to her was dampened by the handful of hurt she’d left him with.
“Izzy?” He moved toward her as if through a room full of soapsuds from an overpour of detergent in a washing machine.
She focused on him, flipping her hair. “Tommy. Wow, you are the last person I expected to see here. What are you doing here, love?” Her cheeks flushed a bit.
“My sentiments exactly. A client of mine plays tomorrow night,” he responded as her arms stretched and they embraced in an awkward hug, mostly on his side. “I didn’t think this was your scene.”
“I wanted to branch out to some of the smaller festivals but nothing really suited my fancy until Artistique.” Her British accent was a light, refreshing and new sound. “The art installations and music are missing one thing. Fashion. I’m trying to test out a modest launch here to see how it goes.”
“Sound investment of your time.”
She agreed. “And your client?”
“A new artist I started with this year. Queen Roe.”
Izzy’s eyes lit up. “Not the same one who has been trending the past few weeks.”
“The very same.” He could always rely on his success to keep him relevant.
“You really do have a golden touch. She is hotter than shit these days. I’d love an interview with her,” Izzy inquired.
“I see you are still a mastermind at asking without asking.”
She pouted her lips. “You remember.”
“I’ll present it to her and see what she says. She’s pretty low-key.” Tommy again found himself with a great opportunity for Nyah, yet he still had no idea how she’d respond. Trendzy Magazine could be a springboard for Nyah, like it had been over a year ago for his other client Luke. Nyah would likely see it as something adding to the celebrity she didn’t want. He both resented and respected her clarity.
“How on earth is a DJ low-key? I thought they all wanted fame and fortune.” Izzy crossed her arms.
“Queen Roe is different.”
“Ahh.” Izzy stroked her chin and curiosity gleamed in her eyes.
Tommy half frowned, half smiled. “What’s that ‘ahh’ for?”
“You light up a bit, just there—” her fingers fanned over her eyes like a mask “—when you say her name.”
He scoffed. “No, I don’t.” He was sure he did.
“Are you staying at one of the cabanas?” Her gaze shifted from business to pleasure.
“Yeah, why did you ask?”
“Because I’m hoping we can catch up.” The open-ended statement left room for a lot of various scenarios he could fill in.
“You haven’t changed a bit.” He smirked.
“What? Can’t a girl have her bit of fun? We had fun, didn’t we?”
“We did.” He put an end cap on it an
d left their escapades where he needed them to stay—in the past.
“But really, it’s been a long time and the way things ended was, well, harsh. I want us to be friends.”
He believed her and for the sake of his friendship with her best friend, he did, too. “We are.”
“I see.” She pouted again, but her flirtations were put on hold when one of her assistants called her over. “I’m terribly busy at the moment, love, but let’s catch up. How ’bout a drink later? I’m in cabana number 2-10. I’ll text you. That is, if your number is still the same.”
“It is,” he said.
“So we’re on, then?”
“I’m busy here, too. No promises.”
She scooted off, giving him a lot of ass in her strut. He shook his head and remembered when that was all it took to get him into her bed. Like her, he’d moved on even if it took him longer, but unlike her, he had no business in rekindling what they had.
Nyah’s sarcastic grin popped into his head and he smiled. The sun started to get low and he wondered if she had eaten. She’d likely finished with Trinidad and now that the evening events were on the upswing, he wanted to spend time with her and maybe take in some of the performances.
He sent her a text.
Boombox: Dinner?
Nyah: Eating with Trinidad and a few classical musicians. Want to join?
His fingers typed yes but then he erased it. As much as he wanted to spend time with her, she was in her element and he wanted to avoid crowding her.
Boombox: Maybe another time. Have fun. Meet up later?
Nyah: Can’t wait.
She included an eggplant emoji and he laughed out loud.
Boombox: LOL!! Me too.
The exclamation marks were a bit much but he wanted her to have fun as much as he wanted her with him. She’d waited for Artistique for months and he wouldn’t be able to enjoy a lot of it with her, even though they had somewhat agreed to date. He still didn’t know what to call it and really, he didn’t give a shit if they were just dating or boyfriend and girlfriend. The woman consumed him and he wanted to be with her.
He went back to his cabana to change and got a call from Herman. Tommy debated whether or not to pick up the phone. Herman had needed an answer from him two weeks ago about whether or not Queen Roe would be performing at Sunburst. Nyah told him the few times he’d asked her that she needed to focus on her performances at Artistique. When Herman didn’t ask, Tommy didn’t reach out. His behavior itself was noteworthy. Having an artist play at Sunburst meant so much to him, but his feelings for Nyah rivaled his ambitions.
He picked up. “Boombox.”
“You avoiding me again?”
“Nah, man. It’s just been busy.” Tommy used his regular excuse with his friend. “In fact I’m at Artistique.”
“I like that fest. It’s quaint,” Herman said. “I hear Queen Roe’s playing. She’s gaining momentum.”
“Yeah.” For better or worse.
“So am I booking her for Sunburst or what?”
“Can you give us a little more time? She wants to see how Artistique goes and—”
“I gave you two additional weeks. I need to know now. My cursor is blinking on the lineup page.”
“C’mon, man. You can’t even give me a day?” Tommy asked, already certain of Herman’s answer.
“I can’t continue to hold this spot, man. I need this shit up on the website and solidify the logistics. You’re cramping my style. Can she do it or not?”
Fuck! He thought back to Oh Ship and Rebel. Nyah had successfully made it through both of those larger events. He thought they’d had an epiphany the morning he’d fixed her breakfast. She seemed more curious about the possibility of performing at festivals. When he brought up Sunburst, she didn’t shut him down and that shocked him most of all. Maybe, just maybe, she’d say yes to Sunburst if he spun it for her like Oh Ship or helped her work through her fear at Rebel, and they could both win.
“Book her,” he said to Herman. The decision made him uneasy but he pushed it down and convinced himself that after they discussed it, she’d agree to play. She may not want to play with her father but she had solidified her spot as one of the hottest DJs playing the underground.
“Great. Celebrate, man. You finally got your wish after all these years. You got one of your artists playing at Sunburst. Not only that, but this year we’re honoring Pete Monroe. The festival will be great for her. I feel like she would be a nice complement to the Monroe ceremony. What do you think? Maybe I can adjust the lineup.”
“I don’t know about that, Herman. Like I said, she likes to do things her way. I’m not sure how she’d feel about that.” Tommy knew exactly how Nyah felt about that. Unless Nyah decided to DJ with her father, he didn’t think she’d want to play anywhere around him, for fear of being found out.
“Who wouldn’t want to play opposite an icon? What the fuck, man? This girl want to be famous or what?”
Tommy sighed, buttoning his shirt. “Just keep her off the main stage.”
“Okay. Whatever, man,” Herman grumbled. “I got a few more calls to make. Let me know if you have any questions.”
They hung up and Tommy sat on the edge of the bed. “This is a good thing. This is good for her.” The words, however, did little to relax his tense shoulders. He dressed casually with no place to go. He decided to get a ride into town for a sit down dinner when he got a text.
Izzy: Still on for drinks later
Boombox: Don’t think so...heading into town for dinner
Izzy: Starving. Can I crash?
He should decline but he needed company and didn’t want to talk business. Plus the only person he really wanted to spend time with was enjoying an evening with her fellow musicians.
Boombox: Sure
As Tommy left his cabana, he couldn’t shake the feeling that in saying yes to Izzy, he’d only added to a host of bad decisions he’d made in the last hour.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Artist row came into view as Nyah hightailed it back to her cabana at close to one in the morning. She’d had a great time with Trinidad and some of the other artists and musicians who were playing the next afternoon. On her way back, excitement prickled her skin at the thought of spending the night with Tommy. Each time in bed with him felt better than the last, and even during a fun night with her fellow musicians, she’d wanted his arms and to watch him sleep after they made love. She didn’t cower at the thought of loving him like she had in the beginning of their re-acquaintance. He was still a pain in the ass, but his intentions toward her were always good. How could she not love that?
Her steps sped up the closer she got to the cabanas. However, nothing had prepared her for the sight of Tommy releasing a statuesque woman with dirty blond hair from his embrace.
“I’m really glad we did this,” Tommy said to the woman. “It was long overdue.”
“Right. No more hiding from me, love.” The British accent was unexpected.
“I wasn’t hiding, I just needed space and...” Tommy trailed and the two of them turned at Nyah’s presence.
“Nyah?” Mercifully, Tommy spoke first because her brain still processed the images and the inferences while she stood in shock.
“I...umm.” Breathe. She commanded herself. She inhaled a hearty breath.
“I-I didn’t expect to see you here at Artistique,” he stuttered. His eyes pleaded with hers. “How have you been?” He squeezed her stiff body and her arms barely tapped his sides.
Nyah plastered a wide smile on her face that she hoped didn’t look as plastic as it felt. You are not Queen Roe. You are not Queen Roe. “I’m great! I’m playing a classical piece at the modern art tent tomorrow. It’s a great festival, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “I-I’m just so surprised to see you. What are you doing here?” With this woman at one in
the fucking morning?
“I’m here with a client who’s performing tomorrow night.” Tommy rushed on, “What a small world.”
Nyah stared at the woman Tommy was with and recognition finally made it through to her memory. “You’re Isabelle Fisher.”
“The very one. Hello.” Izzy served Nyah all her sleek hair with one flowy flip, and a pretty fragrance followed.
“It’s really nice to meet you.” Nyah’s mask of pleasantries started to crack. She had come face to face with fashion magazine’s darling, and Tommy’s ex. Nyah was both honored and horrified. She’d happened upon Izzy and Tommy during the witching hours, and her mind only created what else she might have interrupted.
“Nyah is a classical musician. Are you playing bass here at the festival?” Tommy urged.
She had to hand it to him. His acting skills could win him Emmys and Oscars. She had maybe a few minutes left before her façade completely crumbled. She swallowed through the tightness in her throat as the shock thawed to expose the hurt beneath.
“How do you two know each other?” Izzy asked, and her eyes ping-ponged between Nyah and Tommy with intrigue.
“We met...what? Six years ago at a party in Miami, right?” Tommy said.
“Yeah, about that,” Nyah said. “Were you guys taking in the events tonight or...?”
“We had dinner at a cozy little place in town and drinks. If you get a chance I highly recommend Smithy’s,” Izzy offered. “Their salmon was divine.”
“Oh. Are you two...together?” Nyah couldn’t help but ask.
“Just old friends catching up.” Izzy smiled.
“How do you two know each other?” Nyah asked Izzy and could feel Tommy’s eyes on her.
“My best friend Leona is dating his client and best friend, Luke Anderson. If you follow dance music you might know him. Both of them, actually,” Izzy said casually.
“Oh yeah. The Musical Prophet? I know of him.” And his whole catalog. “Wow, Tommy. You’ve really done well for yourself.” Nyah pulled the compliment from her mouth in the hopes it sounded natural.
“Thanks. You, too,” Tommy said.