Haley smiled ruefully. “You’re joking about this. I’m trying to say something sincere. I really…I’ve been a fan for a long time. I’m really rooting for you to get through whatever this is that you’re going through.”
“That’s why you came to my room? To tell me this?”
No, he realized—she came into the room because she wanted exactly what he did but was talking herself out of it the same way he had. Did she need this? Did he? Seemed like a bad idea, for the reasons she laid out in the beginning, like a disclaimer. She was right, and he knew that he had to agree.
Instead he placed his fingers underneath her chin and drew her in, slowly, touching her lips with his mouth, waiting for her to allow him to taste her. A whimper slipped out of her mouth as he pressed on, sliding his tongue inside. She was nice, warm, sweet, soft.
***
I can die now. God. But not before this is over.
You would think that Haley, after everything, would slip into “Oliver Fantasy Mode” and choose a previously recorded fantasy to step into and live out. Maybe her brain had short-circuited already from the overload of emotional uncertainty.
“Oh my god,” was all she said when she could talk. She never was much of a songwriter.
He laughed at that and dipped again to capture her mouth, and he was kissing her. Still kissing her. It was absolutely fine; she didn’t want him to stop. Her arms went around his neck for practical reasons, because she needed to hang on to something. His hands were on her face now, cradling her, gently turning her slightly so as his tongue found hers and teased it into responding.
He slowed down to catch his breath and she took that opening. Bracing herself against his broad shoulders, she kissed him back, going for it deep when he groaned into her mouth. She liked that sound. She felt it on her tongue and everywhere else as it passed through her.
Their bodies shifted as she pushed toward him, and he pulled back, opening up, and she felt his hands leave her face, reconnecting around her waist. She gasped a little when he nudged her up, closer, her insides all stirred up by his heat.
Right, hands. She remembered where hers were, and where else they could be, and she ran them down to his shoulders. One of his hands traveled up her back, once, and then a second time, taking the same path up her spine but getting past the material of her shirt.
They could do this all night.
They could do more than this all night.
“Hey,” she said, and it was so soft the first time that he didn’t even hear it. She found one of his hands near her hip and covered it with hers. “Hey.”
The heat of him left her mouth and pressed gently somewhere over her forehead. “Yeah. Too intense?”
In every way that felt good, and she wanted to feel good. He probably wouldn’t even realize what this could mean to her. But it didn’t seem right…
“I get it,” he said before she could put it into words. “There’s too much going on.”
“Yeah,” she said, almost apologetically. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m happy to be home,” he said.
He can’t mean that, she thought as she retreated to the room next door. But it was nice of him to say so.
Chapter 11
Friday
According to the schedule, he had to be done with breakfast by eight a.m. No big deal. He wasn't one for morning meals anyway, and grabbed a mug of coffee. The hotel café, which also looked like an extension of a library, had huge glass doors that opened out onto the garden and a swimming pool. It was starting to get cooler—for Texas at least—and the pool was empty that morning. He didn't spot Haley anywhere, so he took his coffee and stepped out onto the lawn.
“Is that a new one?” Trey had come up behind him, holding a mug of his own, and Oliver realized that he had been humming under his breath the whole time.
“Maybe,” Oliver said. “Won't be surprised if it's a false alarm and I actually have nothing. Is that ginger?”
“Ginger and ginseng,” Trey confirmed, raising his mug.
Trey looked as bright and early as the morning. Oliver did not remember being cheery at this hour at that age, at any stage of success. It made him feel old, and Oliver normally carried himself like he was the opposite of that. They both stood out there, looking at the pool, sipping their morning drink, but Oliver felt the taller, younger, newer model draining something away from him.
“So you know Haley?” Trey said. “You arrived together at the meeting last night.”
Oh no you don't. Oliver cleared his throat. “Yeah, a little.”
“She's awesome. She's Hot Piano Girl, on the Internet. Did you know that?”
“I knew that.”
“She wasn’t Hot Piano Girl yet when I met her. But she was…well, you know what I mean. Everyone wanted to be mentored by her.”
Oliver grunted into his coffee.
“But this year I'm a mentor too,” Trey said, like that was supposed to mean something. “Obviously she wouldn't have wanted to get in trouble back then.”
Trey was, from the looks of the mentor group, the biggest name on the ticket. It was a list that had Haley, Oliver, celebrated jazz musician/producer/label owner Arnie Bolton, some radio personalities, a handful of composers, and other industry “stakeholders” as Victoria described them. And Trey was nineteen years old. He would have no problem charming anyone not living under a rock. Even the rocks would be charmed.
Trey Lewis is going to be at the festival in Houston, Oliver.
So?
So. It’s mostly a closed-door weekend, but it’s beginning to draw big names. Like Trey. Like you.
Is this a blind fucking date you’re sending me on?
You’re going to be in a small hotel for one weekend with the biggest pop star in the world. Do something. Get him to work with you on something.
Get the guys to actually produce my record, and you’ll have something to talk about.
It has to be bigger than you, no offense. You know we need this. And when I say “we,” I mean you too.
No, Oliver didn’t know that until that very moment. Tomorrow’s Talent performed their obligation to him as a winner and then barely spoke to him again. He had suspected that the ratings weren’t great but was spared the usual stunts they had to pull to be kept off the network’s chopping block.
This year, however, it was his turn, he guessed. To be the stunt. It was a sign of how desperate they were that they had turned to him, because they never had before. For anything.
Oliver wasn’t opposed to going to Breathe Music in general, anyway. Former manager Rob had been telling him to ignore the invitation for years, but seeing the circle of mentors reminded him that he needed this. He needed to know more people.
He had always been ill-equipped at finding those breaks for himself, but maybe this was the place to start?
Chris wanted him to do this, in any case, because he apparently knew Victoria from their neighborhood. The TT people ran the idea by him for sure. What the TT folks hadn’t realized, and what Chris knew but was nice enough not to say, was that Oliver would rather eat shards of a broken CD than beg Trey for career scraps. They would like to think though that Oliver was more of a survivor than that. That he would suck it up.
He knew he was halfway toward an epiphany but had to let that go when Haley emerged from the coffee shop's kitchen that moment, carrying a box of something. Her hair was up, revealing her neck. She set down the box on a vacant table, shrugged, and grabbed a butter knife and stabbed it into the center.
Oliver saw her first, but then Trey turned in that direction and cut the pleasure of that moment in half.
“Don't you have a girlfriend in LA or somewhere?” Oliver asked. “Or Katy?”
“Nah,” Trey said, watching now as Haley used a very blunt knife to unpack a very securely wrapped box. She went at it with enthusiasm though and retrieved what looked like baked goods from inside.
“Not right now. I don't think it's pra
ctical, anyway. I'm always here or there. But maybe Haley and I could hang out, finally. I always wondered.”
Oliver lifted his mug enough so he could hide whatever expression his face had made. It was one thing to step aside and let Haley settle for a life with her dependable once-a-cheater. But if she chose this weekend to have a cold-feet fling…
Not today, Trey. Trey may have won the chart, the year, and possibly the next decade, but Oliver wasn't going to let him take the weekend. He may have thought he had a head start with last night’s kiss, but amazing as it was, she did pull back. He was going to respect that distance she asked for, but that didn’t mean he was going to leave the door open for every dude with a guitar.
“So, the mentoring thing,” Oliver said, “want to work together on that? It’s my first time, and I’d like to see how it’s done. Before I ruin someone else’s life.”
That surprised the youngster, and no doubt flattered him. “I have done this before.”
“Mind if we hang together, my students with yours, later?” This idea had the double benefit of keeping Trey out of Haley’s way and appearing as if he was doing something for TT.
Trey was psyched at the idea, and Oliver congratulated himself on being a little bit of a self-serving dick for suggesting it. It made him feel like an adult. Like he had put his foot down and stood for something, even if every other person who had his phone number was telling him he had nothing left.
***
The toughest crowd Oliver had ever played for: Singapore, when he was fifteen, jetlagged, and thirsty. Later he was told that the particular audience was a polite bunch of bankers and would have been as unenthusiastic if Mick Jagger had been bouncing around in front of them. Oliver had been flown in with a smaller version of the group to perform a selection of pieces. He could have sworn not one person there, out of the two hundred in the concert hall, was convinced he knew what he was doing. The look he was getting from Kari Ball and her brother John was giving him déjà vu.
It started out painless, at least for him. Victoria’s scheduled nine a.m. “Welcome to Breathe Music” ceremony had to be moved up to one of the second-floor function rooms from the poolside because the pool was somewhat visible from the outside, and that was where about a dozen girls were camped out, with actual camping gear.
“Sorry about this,” Victoria said as soon as she accounted for all thirty-two people she was supposed to be welcoming. “I don’t think this’ll be the only time we’ll have to suddenly squeeze into a confined space this weekend, if only to get some peace and quiet. Those Trey Girls are on Twitter about what’s happening here, I don’t even know how. But Trey’s management is making sure that those girls outside are safe and won’t get attacked by bears or something. Anyway. Welcome to Breathe Music, everyone!”
Oliver didn’t take one of the chairs that had been pulled into the room at the last minute. He chose instead to stand near the door and scanned the room for Haley, but didn’t see her.
Victoria was handed a microphone, and she tapped it to check if it was working. “So this is the thing I say every year, when we start this.
“Good morning, musical hearts and hands of Houston. Welcome to Breathe Music Festival, which for twelve years now has been connecting young musicians with established music pros. This began as a charity event, and is now, I’m proud to say, a staple in Houston’s music scene. Because of the students, who apply by the hundreds every year for a chance at one of the dozen slots available. Because of the mentors, who take time out to fly back home and share the wisdom they’ve gained from their colorful careers. Because of the sponsors, who pitch in not just money but passion and help make sure that you have a comfortable experience and not have to pay a cent for this.
“We’re doing all of this with only one purpose: make music. Breathe music. Are you ready to do that now?”
This actually made Oliver pause. He hadn’t thought about music this way in a long time, even as he was fighting for the right to make the music he wanted. Should he tell the kids then that it wouldn’t always be that way, that they were walking into an industry that didn’t want them as they were and instead were looking for the next lump of clay like Trey?
He suspected that Victoria wouldn’t want that.
She began to explain what the weekend had in store for them. Morning and afternoon mentoring sessions, leading to performances at midday and early evening where the students could show what they had learned.
“Oliver Cabrera,” Victoria was saying. “You probably know him as a bestselling rock and alternative artist, but he’s also a classically trained musician, a Tomorrow’s Talent winner, and he grew up like five blocks from my house. Oliver, you will be mentor to the Ball siblings John and Kari.”
It looked like he was the only mentor to get a duo, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing. At the end of Victoria’s speech the mentors and students found each other, and he found himself looking down (and up) at the young people whose dreams he should be encouraging.
“I watched Tomorrow’s Talent when I was a kid,” John said. “But it’s been cancelled, right?”
Off to a good start. “Well, not yet.”
Trey and his student, a girl who looked completely overwhelmed, showed up beside them. “I got dibs on the meeting room down the hall. Best acoustics, I promise you, and near the bathrooms. Let’s jam there?”
Chapter 12
Trey wanted this. He really did. He could have anything in the world at this point, and he was stoked about being a mentor.
“This is the beginning of the rest of your lives, I promise!” he said. “If you think you’ve got it in you, you should take the time to discover it here. And we’ll help you!”
Oliver kept the impulse to gag inside him, deep inside, and left a mask of polite agreement on his face.
And Trey went on.
“…the first day is going to suck,” Trey was saying. “On my first day, my backup track kept skipping, and I forgot my lyrics, and someone else in the group sang the exact same song. It’s insane! So get it over with and let’s do our best. What were you all thinking of singing?”
Oliver saw Kari Ball consulting a piece of paper, where a list was haphazardly scribbled. They had been told they could get to sing nearly anything (the performances were private, not televised, so there were no rights issues.)
“A Thousand Years,” she said, referencing the Christina Perri song.
“Livin’ on a Prayer,” John said at the same time.
Oliver noticed the siblings shoot glares at each other and scooted his chair closer.
“The two of you will have to figure that out,” Trey said. “How about you…?”
Trey had turned his attention to his actual student, and Oliver managed to get his together in a small huddle.
“You’re supposed to perform together, right?” he asked. “How exactly are you going to be comfortable doing either song?”
“I’m not comfortable doing his Bon Jovi,” Kari protested.
“She wants that other song because I play guitar and do nothing else on it,” John whined.
Trey cleared his throat and stepped in. “The first informal performances will be at the café over lunch. Maybe nothing too…eighties. Here, any of these cool with you?” Before Oliver could react, the kid had whipped out his phone and was sharing playlists with Oliver’s students.
“There wasn’t anything wrong with what they wanted,” Oliver said over Trey’s shoulder. “We need some time to figure out how to perform either one properly.”
“Ash, I’ll get to you in a sec,” Trey said to his own student. To the rest of them, he went, “Look, Oliver, I’ve done this before. This is what’ll work. You two are fine with doing what works, right? There are other mentors who are record execs and music industry media that are going to be watching. You shouldn’t use this time to experiment and screw up.”
“That’s funny,” Oliver said petulantly, even as he backed up from the huddle. “T
hey’re kids. It’s the perfect time to experiment and screw up.”
Oliver felt more than a little pride in how he chose the music he performed at Tomorrow’s Talent, the entire fifteen-week run of it. Except for one song in the finals, chosen for him by the producers. He was personally responsible not just for his slips on that show, but also his accomplishments, especially the handful of performances that took him to the top and helped him stay there.
“I don’t know, Oliver,” Trey said, barely looking at him. “Not everyone’s got the balls to do what you’re doing.”
“And that would be what, Lewis?”
He shrugged. “Striking out on your own, you know. With your chin up even if the record company’s tough on you. Not everyone’s built for that kind of…independence.”
Son of a bitch. The kid had a mean streak in him. But Oliver should have expected it. It was his fault that he let his guard down.
The voice was still cloyingly sweet, despite being old enough to grow facial hair, and that made Oliver uncomfortable about his reflex to hit the guy who said it.
“Fine,” Oliver said, mocking a tip of a hat to Trey. “Kari, John, let me know which song you pick and I’ll work with you on it. Five minutes?”
That was enough time to step out and get some air—and maybe let out his aggression on something else. Despite the drama and the tabloid coverage, the three altercations he had been involved in that made the news were the only times he had actually been violent to other people.
He couldn’t afford to even hint at being violent right now. He wasn’t going to be nailing his own coffin shut.
He had to knock on four wrong doors before he ended up in the right one—the hotel’s own guest library. He apologized to the people inside and was glad that it was a relatively private space.
“Did you need something?” Haley asked.
Playing Autumn (Breathe Rockstar Romance Book 1) Page 6