“Hot Piano Girl” was what the commenters called her. The earliest video was a year old when he first saw it, and she didn’t upload any new ones beyond that set. He watched those several times though, Your Life more often than he cared to admit.
You know, as a confidence booster.
Because she was good, and he was a fan of her version.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Haley said now, except she actually did, and he knew it. “I never called myself that.”
“Oh, you didn't call yourself that, but everyone else did.” It was the hair that threw him off. How could he not have recognized her? “Oh dear god. You're awesome, you know that? How many views did that get, three hundred thousand?”
“A lot. I can't believe you actually saw it. Did you see everything?”
“I saw Your Life and Not This Time. And yes, everything.”
“Oh god. I'm really, really sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? It’s not cool to like my music anymore?”
“God, no.” Her adorable flustered look returned, but it was like she was shifting gears. “That’s not it at all. I’m embarrassed you had to see that. I don’t…I’m not as good a musician as you are.”
Oliver was touched by her modesty and the fact that it seemed genuine. At least it was her turn to cringe. “So you actually teach music?”
“Piano. I used to teach piano lessons while in college, and I took videos of some. Because one time I had to go somewhere else and didn’t want to miss a class, and then it became a thing...”
The burly guy with the sign didn't actually have the car with him. He motioned for them to follow him to the parking lot.
“...and Mrs. Lee ended up seeing one of the videos and offered me a job helping Ellen practice for a recital. Eventually there were other school requirements to study for, and I started helping out with those. I moved there when I graduated thinking I’d be helping Sophie with other classes, too.”
“I'm surprised no one ever offered you something in the industry,” Oliver said, more to himself. “You see people with half that talent getting guest spots in talk shows.”
Haley shrugged. “I stopped going to the channel, to be honest. People kept demanding new stuff. I got busy, and then I stopped caring.”
“You shouldn't have stopped.”
“That's nice,” she said, smirking at him. “Getting a head start on being a mentor? I know how tough the industry is. I don’t even have the connections or anything. You're telling me I should have gone out and tried it?”
Oliver's mom and dad had been in “the industry.” It had never been a question to them if he should go for it. As soon as he picked up an instrument and showed the aptitude for it, that set everything in motion. They had the friends, the experience, and everything else that someone would need to get as far as he did. Apparently for other people the path was not as certain, like they could be this brilliant and choose to be...a dentist. Or something.
“I'm not telling you what to do,” he said instead. “But I've heard you, and I think you're awesome. Is that all you need? Is that why you posted that on the Internet for everyone to see?”
She shrugged and bit the inside of her lower lip, which reminded him of how Hot Piano Girl sometimes did that right before a song, because he thought that was really hot.
Hot Piano Girl. Of all the damn things.
Chapter 5
The Breathe Music Festival would take place over three days at the Lake Star Hotel, and for the entire time it would seem like music camp to a dozen or so lucky, happy teens. Victoria Bennett made sure when she took over the festival that she would maintain its original mandate, that any teen musician who wanted to attend wouldn't have to pay a thing to get in. This meant most of the learning sessions and performance events had to remain small and manageable, because despite her stellar work getting sponsors to cover most expenses, they still had to run a tight ship.
To help build the fund for the following year’s festival, she started the Sunday Concert, a show on the final day of Breathe Music featuring all the mentors and students. It was open to the public and charged a small fee for admission.
Oliver and Haley were driven straight to Lake Star from the airport, and though she was fine and comfortable with him, she was still relieved when he automatically sat beside the driver up front. He spent most of the ride chatting up Roger, the guy who had picked them up, and though he tried to involve Haley in the conversation, her mind was somewhere else.
When they got to the hotel, she made it a point to find Victoria first. Oliver had started a breezy, flirty conversation with the hotel staff behind the check-in counter, and she figured she didn't have to stay with him as he did that.
She found her best friend behind the counter of the hotel's café, in the middle of discussing the evening menu.
“Hey,” Haley yelled. “Scheming woman.”
Victoria whirled around, a little too energetically, as she did everything else. “Haley!” She was back from behind the counter in about three steps and grabbed Haley in a hug.
“So I rode a plane with Oliver Cabrera today,” Haley said.
Victoria's eyes twinkled, which meant she was responsible for it. “I had a feeling you would be.”
“You've been inviting him to Breathe Music? Every year?”
“I invite prominent musicians in the Houston music scene every year, even the ones who no longer live here. Don't think he's so special. So what's he like?”
“I don't know.” Haley's voice dropped to a whisper. “He's... he's really nice. He has this weird thing...anyway, we actually sat together on the plane.”
“I did not orchestrate that, no matter how manipulative you think I am!”
“Oh, I know you didn’t, he kind of made that happen all by himself…”
“No. He’s flirting with you? Is your fangirl heart okay? We don’t have paramedics on site right this minute.”
Haley groaned. “You didn't tell him anything about me, right?”
Victoria laughed. “Like what? I spoke to him on the phone once. Maybe I mentioned that I saw him in a concert in Orlando. That's all.”
Oh God. Orlando.
One of the reasons why Haley took the job in Tampa that spring? Because Oliver Cabrera had a show in Orlando, coincidentally right smack in the middle of her stay there. Haley knew she had to go (duh) but she didn't feel right about going alone, or with Ellen or Sophie. So she convinced Victoria to take the weekend trip and paid for her flight.
“Are you crazy, woman?”
“This is what we DO, Victoria. Remember?”
Victoria arrived right before a hurricane hit, and Haley spent a tense day and a half checking the Internet over and over for weather reports, any news of the concert cancellation.
Victoria was there to be her fangirl wing-person and was chill throughout the entire thing. “It's two days away. It'll clear up.”
“But we need to know if we still need to head out. It's a long drive and it'll suck to have to turn back...” And she kept hitting refresh, refresh, refresh.
“Then you'll have the pleasure of my company for four whole days!”
As it turned out, the weather listened to Haley's pleas, and it cleared up in time for Oliver's bus to roll in. She’d been such a bad fan of his the past year (didn’t buy the last album or the standalone digital single before it) and wanted to make up for it in a big way by supporting the show. Orlando was even more crucial because low ticket sales meant most of the tour dates were cancelled and he wasn’t going to Texas anymore, or at least not anytime soon.
He was wonderful that night, once even breaking out the old violin to play an all-new solo to one of his songs. Haley had fun, even if she couldn’t sing along to half the songs anymore. Victoria didn't complain, which was awesome of her. She also didn’t comment on the venue that wasn’t packed, no matter how you looked at it. His days of drawing crowds were probably over, and only the super devoted fans were left
to carry the torch.
It felt like the last concert of his that she would be going to, and not just because of the tour cancellations. She went to that one out of nostalgia and didn't join the other fans who waited for him by the tour bus. Victoria, bless her heart, actually suggested it, but Haley said no.
“Come on,” Victoria insisted. “We survived a hurricane already. Might as well do this.”
“I've outgrown it,” Haley said then. She felt sad about it, like she was saying goodbye to an important part of her past.
Ugh, how melodramatic.
“I didn't tell him at all about Orlando,” Haley said now.
“You should have! I'm sure he'd enjoy hearing how you screamed at the weather forecast on your laptop.”
“I did not do that.”
“Oh, you did.”
“Don't tell him anything about me,” Haley pleaded. “I'd like to keep my dignity intact here, of all places.”
“You did nothing you should be ashamed of. And did you get your schedule already?”
“I'll check in now. Don't tell Oliver any stories.”
Victoria smiled slyly. “I'm busy. Go do actual mentor stuff.”
Not until she did some daughter stuff first. She called her mother. “Mom? I'm at the hotel.”
An electric whirring sound stopped, and then Haley heard her mom's voice. “Hi, dear. Back already? Did you tell me and I forgot?”
“No,” she said, keeping her voice level. “I didn't mention it. It’s Breathe Music weekend again and I didn’t think I’d be going this year, but Victoria convinced me to.”
“Are you going to be able to see us?”
“I have to go back to Tampa right away as soon as Breathe is done. How about I see you and Dad for lunch on Sunday?”
“We have work, but come by and have pho?”
Haley knew she was referring to the Vietnamese place midway between the two different hospitals where her parents worked. “Got it. See you.”
Now that was a fortunate turn of events. She wanted to be a good daughter but didn’t want to have to tell them that she might be back for good soon. Not ready. Hadn’t processed. Lunch over pho—that place had super quick service—was the best compromise.
Second phone call: Cass.
“Hey,” Haley said, “are you actually in town?”
“I’m back!” Cass told her. “Setting up the photography biz. I want it based here. Very exciting. I need to see you while you’re in town! Immediately. Right away. Right after I do this thing I have to do today.”
“I’m here until Monday,” Haley said. “But I’m back again Thanksgiving.”
“And that’s all music festival stuff, right? When can you squeeze me in?”
“I don’t know, Cass…we’re bunked in the hotel with everyone else for a reason. I help Victoria with other stuff when I can, even when I’m not mentoring. We can’t talk over the phone?”
“If I could tell you everything on the phone, I would have told you when we were on opposite coasts. I want to see you, okay? I’ll drop by when I can.”
Haley loved Cass and all, but she also disliked “we need to talk” as a vague opener. We’re talking. Get it out. This was one conversation that was all about the need to talk and not actual talking.
A minor annoyance, but was also reinforcing certain things Haley suspected. This weekend was getting the award for Too Much Going On.
When Haley returned to the reception desk, Oliver was still there. Her heart skipped a beat, for real. She had forgotten for a second that he was there and that they were breathing the same air, and for the first time she took in what he actually looked like. In person.
He was facing the receptionist, his weight supported by the edge of the desk, and he had a relaxed air about him that Haley liked. He’d grown so comfortable in his own skin since those awkward days. He turned toward her, smiling.
“Guess what?” he said. “Our rooms are next to each other.”
“I’m usually bunked next to Victoria,” Haley said, half of it a stutter.
“Well, it looks like you’re next to me, too. On the other side. Thought I'd wait for you and we could go up together.”
Could he tell that this was the exact stuff of her dreams? Was it obvious? Haley hoped not, and she took a deep breath as if it would help perform a reset on her face.
How much did she love Victoria at that moment? Almost as much as she wanted to strangle her.
Chapter 6
An info packet was handed over to him when he checked in, and it had a welcome letter, his schedule for the weekend, details of his return flight, and numbers for local services.
After a few more minutes of conversation that ended with Oliver seeing Haley fumble her way into room 815, he found himself alone again. He set down the dark blue carrying case that held Cornelia, his guitar, on one side of the large bed, and then he plopped down on the other side.
The phone in his pocket kept buzzing. The cellphone signal had obviously found him, carrying the thoughts and feelings of his mom and a few other people along with it.
Twenty-seven unread messages. He scrolled to his mother's.
Visit your grandma.
It looked like the most benign of them, but it was still a command. He was twenty-four years old, and yet people had been talking to him like this all his life. He remembered Chris, his voice of reason, telling him that they did that because it was the only way he responded to requests—if they weren't.
True enough. The other messages at the moment were from Chris, his broker Mally, his landlord Stefan, and Tomorrow’s Talent producer Pat. The short previews to the messages hinted at the content: Answer your fucking phone, Are you there yet, Have you saved our asses yet.
Well, not really, but he could guess. Maybe he wouldn’t answer the fucking phone right now. He didn't have to, right? Maybe he could pull rank a little bit this weekend, as right now he was officially an important person again and had kids to mentor. He unzipped Cornelia's case, wide enough to slip his phone through, and left it inside.
It had started to ring again when he closed the door to room 817 behind him, which caused him to almost run into the kid.
No, he wasn't a kid. But he looked at least sixteen and smelled so strongly of soap that Oliver was reminded briefly of his own mother.
“Oh my gosh. It's really you,” the kid said. “Oliver Cabrera.”
“Hey,” he said, offering his hand.
“Trey Lewis. I...I did Close Her Eyes. Years ago.”
Fucking Trey Lewis. The other reason that Oliver was there, in the room next to his. Of all the damn things.
It had to have been about three years since the kid wormed his way inadvertently into Oliver’s life, and Oliver didn’t need to be plugged into the scene to know that Trey was still riding high. The radio stations still played him. He still got invites to the big awards shows and random important parties. “Still,” because these things dwindled over time, depending on how the tide turned, but as it was, Trey still had a career. He also didn’t look all that different yet, still playing off of the blond boy-next-door image and the aw-shucks demeanor.
Upon a closer look, because Oliver straightened up all of a sudden and looked the kid in the eye, he saw familiar bits of himself. It wasn’t that long ago when Oliver was exactly in that spot where Trey’s life currently hovered, and he could still feel the rush of it sometimes. You would think that it would help endear Trey to him, but no, he still wanted to punch the kid's handsome, almost feminine face.
One dark day last year, Chris, who was not normally a dick, came to his home and said something only a dick would say: Be like Trey.
“Be like Trey,” Oliver had repeated. “They’re fucking kidding, right?”
“They think you can do it.”
“They think I’m an idiot.”
They had names that kept changing every few months. Label executives being assigned to “cradle him to success,” only to never be heard from again unt
il the next one. Oliver felt bounced around like a hot potato by the most incompetent of potato-catchers.
“They think you can take the transition.” Chris was starting to sound like them, except his shirt and haircut combined had to have cost about ten bucks. Which was why Oliver was relieved to have him around.
“Because I’m an idiot?”
“Because you’re young. And you’ve got the female fan base. And…”
“And?”
“You can be pretty if you cleaned up some.”
“Not enough.”
“They sent us videos to watch. But we’ve heard them, since they’re all anyone has ever played recently.”
“You didn’t tell them I’d rather eat the broken shards of that disc?”
“I need to get paid too, brother.”
Oliver’s better judgment won right then, so no punching. “I know that song. Awesome,” he said to Trey, but his voice probably sounded a bit tight.
Trey smiled and nodded. “Whatever. I'm sure you hate it. I do. I pretty much do what they tell me.”
Oliver laughed, relieved that he probably didn't need to hate the kid on top of everyone else. “It’s been a few years. You still want to do it that way?”
Trey shrugged. “It works. How did it work out for you?”
Oliver hung back a second, wondering if that was a dig at his recent troubles, if the kid was being cocky. It was hard to tell because the voice was so damn sweet. “It’s a mixed bag,” he said carefully. “Some stuff I’m proud of, some not so much.”
“I don’t want to rock the boat. I happen to like what’s happening right now.”
Sure, all of the perks but none of the freedom. But what was freedom, anyway? Oliver had nothing but time now, but he also didn’t have enough money to do anything. Some tradeoff. “Enjoy it,” he said.
“I'm trying.”
“You're from around here?”
“Katy. I live in LA now, but it's my mom's birthday this weekend, too. And Breathe Music gave me my big break. I was one of these kids a few years ago. Can't believe I was invited as a mentor this early. I’m just nineteen, but it already feels like so much has happened. Are you in this room? We're neighbors.”
Playing Autumn (Breathe Rockstar Romance Book 1) Page 3