I type at super-speed: ‘Speaking of progress… That was pretty underhanded inviting that particular guest. But thank you.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it. Tasha returned the $10k, in case you’re wondering.’
She gave up that much money! The girl is crazy. She’s been struggling her whole life. I almost want to ask Nathaniel to give it back to her. No. If I win the competition I will give it back to her. ‘Thanks 4 letting me in on the secret.’
‘Some secrets r better shared.’
‘But not what’s in Laura’s letters...?’
‘No.’
I don’t have a single response to that. I could beg in text form, but I’m guessing the reply will still be a flat-out ‘No’. I’m partway through sliding my phone into my pocket when it vibrates again. A new text from Nathaniel: ‘You were beautiful tonight, angel.’
I smile down at the screen and type back: ‘Xo’
A new amendment
I’ve requested a tune. It’s silly really, sentimental, but my friends in the band agreed to indulge me. Luckily, Nathaniel isn’t present to witness this. If he knew his date to the park had inspired my request, I’d never be able to look him in the eyes again.
I move to my spot at the side of the stage, lift the fiddle to my chin and nod to the band. My bow swoops across the strings, accenting the beat with force only to ease away. It is delicate and slightly somber until the percussion lightly pitter-patters underneath. My fingers begin a merry dance over the strings, and I have to remind myself that I’m actually playing to a room full of people, that this is no talent show but the pub around the corner, a place where I play a song here and there and nobody cares.
Usually.
The music might be pouring out of me, but I remember why I never come to The Black Rose on Friday nights. It’s so crowded that the charm of the multi-colored windows and the lanterns are lost in the chaos. The dancefloor has an energy of its own, and there is no shortage of people lurking around my part of the stage, eager to meet a contestant from Original Star.
Ever since we arrived, Agent Hunt has stood by my side of the stage—his dark glasses and suit intimidating enough to keep most fans at bay. But Viv, she’s having a harder time by the front of the stage. All she has is a lanyard with SECURITY and a no-nonsense suit showing that she means business, but it’s not enough to deter the odd patron from making a dash past her and towards me. It’s in those moments that my fingertips falter on the strings, when I look to see if that person is Laura Barnes.
I slam my bow to the strings, the melody surging forward until I end the flow of notes. Applause cheer around me, but my bow hovers in mid-air as I scan every face in the crowd. It’s as if I’m seeing Laura’s everywhere. I blink again—the faces become just as unfamiliar as before. Laura isn’t here. She’s not here. But no matter how many times I tell myself that, I continue to search for her.
Uneasy, I hand the fiddle back to its rightful owner. Hunt helps me jump from the stage, and Viv takes her place by my side. As we start moving, several people walk off the dancefloor. Suddenly, I can see my friends—and one extra.
My heart flutters.
Nathaniel is in the lounge area laughing with Tasha. He looks incredible, his golden hair roughly tied back and not a suit in sight. His faded black t-shirt clings down his arms, conjuring images of what hides beneath.
“And I thought Nate had it bad,” Agent Hunt says.
I send him a glare that is not quite fake. “I do not have it bad.”
“Whatever you say.”
I huff.
Viv grunts low, the effect made all the more severe by her reddish-brown bun. Her strong features that make up her unusual beauty might be overlooked at first glance, but when trained on me they are plain scary.
“See,” he says, “Viv agrees with me.”
“You got all that from a grunt?” I whisper, hoping Viv can’t lip read.
“It’s a subtle art form. You’ll learn soon enough.”
“Unlikely.”
Viv grunts offhandedly. (Possibly Viv’s version of laughter. But who knows really?)
“Let’s go, angel—I mean, Miss Lockhart,” Hunt says, leading me faster through the crowd.
“You did not call me that!”
He grins for a second, then Agent Hunt is back—slightly unshaven, humorless eyes—as he wards off several people calling my name. We’re almost off the dancefloor when Nathaniel catches my eye. He shields one side of his mouth and says something to me.
“What?” I mouth back, spinning my finger in a rewind motion.
He steps back from my friends and repeats the words to me. A second later, he is sucked back into the conversation. Wendy seems to be lecturing him, much like she did when she first met Aaron in the café. Unlike Aaron, who won her over with a salute and a ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ Nathaniel is trapped under her watchful gaze. Apparently, Wendy has forgotten how much she’d adored Nathaniel at the first live performance.
I smile his way, but he is failing the Wendy-test miserably.
He mouths what looks to be the same words again.
“Help me out,” I mutter to the agents beside me. “Do either of you lip read?”
Viv grunts her assent. “He said… ‘Save me, angel.’”
I wince. “Oh. Sorry you had to hear that.”
She grunts lightly. It’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to me.
At least I’ve had my ‘angel’ fix for the day. I sigh happily and feel Nathaniel’s gaze as I round the cordoned area that’s been reserved for us—or, more to the point, my agents insisted it be cordoned as a security measure.
Wendy snares Nathaniel’s attention again, and I nearly die at what comes out of her mouth, “You have a lot to live up to, Mr. hotshot billionaire.” She nods down at Aaron on the lounge between Tasha and Penny. “As soon as I met Aaron I knew he’d treat our Evie right. He’s stuck by her the whole time, while you —”
I sneak up beside an irritated Nathaniel and give Wendy a hug, whispering, “Wendy, I love you, but can you please stop with the interrogation? He’s a good guy, okay.” But she looks far from convinced as I back away, then bump into somebody.
Nathaniel’s arms spring around my waist. I stop smiling the second Aaron sends me one of his darkest looks ever, or maybe it is meant for the man beside me, but Nathaniel laughs. “Are you intentionally making a habit of colliding into me?”
I turn in his arms. “Ha. That’s because you seem to magically appear out of thin air. Like now. I get off stage. You’re here.”
He releases me, his smile gone. “Aaron and I had a few things to discuss.”
“Oh. Um… How did that go?”
“As to be expected. But more importantly, how are you?” he asks, picking up my hands.
“Fine.” Mostly. Other than having two stalkers and the pressure of a music show and no privacy, I’m fine. “You?”
“Fine.” He doesn’t look fine. His cheeks are more hollowed than usual and his lightly tanned skin is slightly gaunt. But most of all, there is constant worry in his eyes. “I heard there were more letters from Laura.”
The letters. I hate those letters as much as the person who wrote them. It doesn’t matter that Viv opens my mail now, or that every morning I watch her with a degree of fascination and fear as her latex gloves hold each letter like it was priceless document. Those words ‘I will always find you’ are spread open, only to be slipped into a snap-lock bag and sealed shut. Cue: a visit by Detective Bowman and his crew. Cue: Aaron doing a search of the apartment for spyware. Cue: Emma ordering Channel 3 security into high alert status. It’s amazing that I even made it to the pub tonight, that any of my minders let me walk out the front door.
“Let’s see. I’ve only looked over my shoulder twenty times tonight as opposed to the whole time,” I smile. “Yep, I think I’m doing fine.”
Nathaniel’s mouth tightens into a line. “Eve, I hope that’s not true.”
“Um…” God. It is true. “Maybe.
A little.”
He rubs his head. “I knew I should have called you.”
My gut twists. “You haven’t had any more letters from Laura, have you?”
His mouth tightens again.
“You have,” I breathe.
“The truth? I had a nice pile of letters on my doorstep when I arrived home this morning, each one as ugly as the last.”
“Were they all the same message?”
He shakes his head, and I fear that these latest messages are far worse than before.
I stare down between us. The pain on his face remains like a photograph in my mind. Tasha and Quinn ask me questions. Thankfully, Aaron answers, explaining the letters so I don’t have to. As for Nathaniel, he seems to sense I’m on the verge of falling apart and he draws me into his arms. I could kiss Penny when she says, “I think it’s time for some happy news.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
Nathaniel lets out a laugh, probably unaware that he’s stroking my back even as I shift to his side.
Happy news… That can only mean one thing. I look at Penny. I look at the glass of OJ in her hand. Tasha and I share a look then scream excitedly. I don’t know who gets there faster, but I squeeze in beside Aaron and throw my arms around Penny. Tasha is almost on Penny’s lap, hugging her like a python.
“Alright, alright,” Penny laughs. “You can get off me now. Damage the precious cargo on board and I’ll have you both on bathroom duty for a month.” She pats her belly, which is deceptively flat.
“Er, hello?” Quinn says, standing off to our left, a beer in hand. “Does anyone here realize that I am going to be a father? Anyone?”
“Congratulations, Quinn,” I say, leaping up to give him a big hug.
“Thanks, Evie.”
Aaron stands and shakes Quinn’s hand. I move aside and Aaron takes the opportunity to pull Quinn into a brotherly hug. “Well done, mate. Best news I’ve heard in a long time,” Aaron says.
I’m still smiling as Aaron returns to his seat and Wendy pats Quinn on the back. “Knew you had it in yer’. All of those years of tryin’, the IVF. Told you it would all be worth it in the end,” she says. “You’ll be a top dad, Quinn.”
He nods slowly. I have a feeling that he’s doubting everything.
Nathaniel steps forward and shakes Quinn’s hand. “Congratulations.”
He shakes Nathaniel’s hand extra fast. “Thanks, man.”
Considering this is only the second time Nathaniel’s met Penny and Quinn, he seems genuinely pleased for the happy couple, which only makes me like him more.
“Wendy said you’d been trying for a while,” Nathaniel says. “How long, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Five years naturally. When that failed we started IVF eight months ago, on and off. Penny has had it rough with those hormone treatments, the mood swings, every month bringing more disappointment. I’m counting my lucky stars that we got there in the end, because spending another thirty-odd grand wasn’t an option for us. Now she’s twelve weeks pregnant and the baby’s ultrasound was all clear. Everything seems to be looking up finally.”
I glance over at Penny. Quinn’s words have brought tears to her eyes. They got their dream in the end—it just took a lot of heartbreak in the process.
“Sounds difficult,” says Nathaniel, frowning. “I never realized it was so expensive.”
“For a guy like you it wouldn’t be, but for us, yeah.”
I’m not sure if Quinn meant that as a compliment, but I wince nonetheless.
“A guy like me?” asks Nathaniel.
“You know… Thirty grand for you is probably a new suit or a couple of nights in a presidential suite. I can’t even imagine what that would be like,” he says, rubbing his neck.
“You don’t think I can appreciate the value of thirty thousand dollars?” Nathaniel scoffs. “I seem to recall that you can buy a decent fishing boat for thirty thousand dollars, start a business with thirty thousand dollars, and in your case, get that dream baby you’ve been longing for, any of which can bring immeasurable happiness for years to come.”
Quinn steps forward. “Easy for you to say, you have a multibillion dollar enterprise at your disposal. The rest of us haven’t got that luxury.”
“You mean the enterprise that Damien and I started with less than thirty K in our pockets?”
“Your daddy pay that?” says Quinn.
“Quinn!” I snap, followed by Penny.
Aaron grunts from the lounge and I see him catch Nathaniel’s eye.
Nathaniel laughs and takes my arm, guiding me slightly behind him. This makes me nervous, as if he’s expecting a fight. I’m about to pull him away to the dancefloor when he steps up to Quinn. “Because you’re Eve’s friend I’ll let that one go.”
“How nice of you,” Quinn says, clenching his fist.
“At least you’ll have no problem with a babysitter, guys,” says Tasha. Her timing is perfect. “Not when you have your very own baby whisperer.”
Okay, not so perfect now that she’s said that.
“Is there such a thing?” Nathaniel asks with a confused smile.
“Oh, there is,” says Wendy, then points straight at me.
Nathaniel’s arm tenses around my waist, then loosens, and I’m expecting him to make a dash for the door. He squints down at me. “You’re that good, huh?”
I shift on the spot. “Maybe.” Maybe not.
“She is,” Aaron agrees, making me blush. “Eve’s like a human pacifier. You should see her with Friday’s baby. One minute in Eve’s arms and Abigail is cooing happily. I honestly don’t know how she does it.”
“Really?” I protest. “You’re just as good with Abigail as I am. She slept on you for a good hour yesterday.”
He shrugs it off. “Yeah, the kid’s cute, what can I say?”
Brewster laughs. “Admit it, Az, you’re probably cluckier than half the women in this room.”
A grunt from Aaron, while Tasha sends me a knowing look, telling me that Aaron is perfect husband material. As if I need another hint that they all prefer Aaron to Nathaniel—Aaron who cheated not that long ago.
Aaron stands. He seems off somehow, distracted. He clicks his phone, then announces, “I need to pop home for a bit. I’ll be back later.”
I want to ask why, but I don’t. He’s clearly not in the mood for questions, avoiding my eyes as he strides towards the exit. Nathaniel seems oblivious, checking messages on his phone. I can’t stop myself, I pull out my phone and start texting: ‘Aaron, are you okay?’
‘Why do you ask?’
Because you look utterly forlorn, that’s why. Instead I text: ‘I can come home. Say the word…’
‘No need. Enjoy your night out, Eve.’
And that’s all I get. I’m no closer to finding out what’s wrong with Aaron, and I actually wonder if there’s a cutting undertone to his last phrase or he really does want me to enjoy myself.
As soon as I click off my phone, Nathaniel offers me his hand. “May I have this dance, Evangeline?”
The offer is too hard to resist, and moments later I’m being led onto the dancefloor, drawn into Nathaniel’s embrace. No doubt, Hunt and Viv are not far behind me. Over Nathaniel’s shoulder, Agent Brewster is watching on as he twirls Tasha back and forth in the ultimate flirt-fest. Agent Takeshi Hamada is not far from them. He stands like a statue amongst the crowd—lean suit, dark braided hair, and a face full of incredible angles, his voice a mystery—and for some unknown reason, I trust him more than any other agent.
But Nathaniel and I are never alone.
A new song starts. It’s far from romantic, an upbeat tune that skips along far too merrily. Nathaniel places a hand on my waist and holds my other hand at shoulder height. His wrist has strips of ink in the exact spot as Aaron’s new tattoo. I slide my hand toward it and run my thumb over the rows of zeroes and ones, each sequence different. He flinches slightly, his eyes haunted with that same look as the night I’d asked to
see his grandfather’s watch. I drop my hand, but he snatches it back up. “Don’t stop,” he breathes.
I let my thumb drift over the tattoos again, while Nathaniel’s eyes narrow slightly as he stares at the numbers on his wrist. I count the lines of zeros and ones. Seven. A code. Aaron’s script had seven letters… “Damien,” I say, tapping each line that makes up a letter. “It’s beautiful.”
He tilts his head, smiling. “You know binary?”
I shake my head. “A lucky guess. Aaron’s new tattoo said Damien. Seven letters. Yours has seven lines. Not really that hard to figure out.”
“I like the way your mind works, angel.”
It’s a flattering compliment coming from Nathaniel, but I don’t know if I believe it. “Did you and Aaron get these together?”
“The day before I left for New York Aaron called me. He was waiting for you to return from a photoshoot. He seemed down. I suggested this,” Nathaniel says, nodding at the tattoo. “I’d been thinking about it ever since Damien’s funeral. I needed a way to keep him with me somehow.”
“I like that.” I wish I’d thought to do that with my mum and dad. I still could… “Did it hurt?”
He spins me under his arm. “No more than usual.”
“You have more? Where?” How many tattoos are hidden on Nathaniel’s person? If, for no other reason than this, I have to see him naked.
He sways me in a circle. Something mischievous is going through his mind. “The only way you’re going to see those, angel, is if you choose me.”
“Well…” I pout. “Well, that’s just manipulating the system.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I bet you will,” I grumble, spinning him under my arm so that I can glare at him in private. He returns, then grabs me around the waist so I cannot possibly spin him again. I find myself swaying lazily to the music, my hands wandering over Nathaniel’s chest and to the back of his neck where I play with his hair. It is untied in seconds.
“Again?” He smiles.
“What can I say? My fingers have a mind of their own. They want your hair untied, they do it. There’s no stopping them, really. Much like when they play violin.”
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