A Song of Life: A Fictional Memoir (Song for You Book 2)

by Megan Rivers

I smiled. He was prepared. “And Galvin and I are in cahoots, so we all have your back,” Meadow chimed in, giving me a hug. “We'll see you in ten-ish weeks, Frister,”

  Nodding in approval, I sighed. “It doesn't seem that long.”

  “It's no time, really,” she reassured me.

  After one more final, long hug among the three of us in the freezing wind, they turned their backs to me and drove off down the street, their hands waving outside the windows.

  The trees bent in the breeze but there was no other movement or sound. As soon as I turned around and walked into that house I was beginning a life without their immediate presence. The strange part was that the moment after I met them, I didn't once think of life without them.

  Now I was on my own.

  I walked into my bedroom and smiled at the love that went into preparing it for me. The noise of the television traveled in a muffle from beneath the bedroom door. My first day of high school in Maine was tomorrow, but I felt too grown up for high school; it was suddenly a very different world.

  XIV.

  The Suit in the Attic

  “Magic” – Andy Davis

  The next time I saw Galvin was at the Grammy's in February. He was going to be in L.A. for three days and I was going to accompany him. I went back and forth trying to decide whether or not I should tell my aunt that I would be gone for three days or if I should just leave―she probably wouldn't notice anyway. I was afraid she wouldn't allow it and I think Galvin had the same fears as he urged me to just get on the plane without her none the wiser.

  My morals got the best of me. The night before I was to leave, I crept from my room and followed the voice of Pat Sajak as the light of the television danced on the dark walls.

  As the commercial break started when I entered the room, I felt as if it were a sign that luck was on my side. “Can I talk to you for a second?” I asked over the volume.

  Odilia picked up the remote and muted the carpet warehouse jingle. “Whatcha need, toots? You've got less than sixty seconds before my show returns.” She spoke through the cigarette in her lips and struck a match, lighting it.

  “My mom―I mean back when she was alive...” Oh, there was a pain deep down as I spoke her name. “She―um―she made these plans...”

  “Time's tickin', toots. Spit it out.” She exhaled a huge cloud of smoke.

  “I'm supposed to go to California for an event with Galvin for a few days,” I blurted, avoiding her gaze.

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow.” I looked down at my shoes, hoping she wouldn't laugh in my face.

  “How long?”

  “Three days.” Was there hope? Maybe a glimmer.

  “Do I gotta pay somethin'?”

  “No, it's all been taken care of.”

  “You comin' back?” She glared at me as if this were a trick.

  “In three days, yes.”

  “Have fun,” she said, unmuting the television and the rush of sound seemed to usher me out of the room.

  I walked into my bedroom, closed the door, and gleefully packed a bag.

  The next morning I hopped on a bus to the train station and headed to New York. Galvin was staying at a hotel not far from Penn Station while attending a charity benefit the previous night and taking care of other business before getting back to work on the new album.

  After what seemed like thousands of miles of travel, I approached the door of his room at his hotel. I heard loud voices from the other side, but continued to knock despite them. Moments later he opened the door with his cell phone plastered to his ear. The second his eyes fell upon me, they softened, it was like watching a magic trick. He smiled and waved me in, cupping the phone. “I'll only be a minute,” he whispered. “Sit down and get a drink.”

  I sat down on the closest chair, which had his guitar case leaning against it. “No, that's not what I said,” his voice became firmer. He held up a finger to me, indicating he'd be with me in a minute, and gave me a half-hearted smile. As he walked around the corner to the bedroom area where I heard his voice rise and fall several times.

  The sight of his acoustic guitar made my mind wander to Melbourne memories and I smiled remembering how Galvin's face softened with serenity when playing the guitar for no one but himself; it truly made him happy. Those nights seemed like years ago, not months ago.

  “I'm sorry, love,” Galvin said walking back into the room, pocketing his cell phone. He pulled me into his arms, giving me a kiss. “Welcome to New York.” Another kiss. “How was the train? I'm sorry I couldn't meet you at the station.”

  “Well, I haven't been mugged, pick-pocketed, or kidnapped, so I think the Big City favors me.” I smiled up at him, my arms wrapped around his back. I had forgotten how whole he made me feel.

  “I'm sure it does, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to Christie-nap you.”

  “Oh, really?” I lifted an eyebrow. “And what is Christie-napping?”

  A sly grin spread across his face. “First, I abduct a Christie.” He scooped me up in his arms. I put my arms around his neck and matched his smile.

  “What then?”

  “I take her to a foreign place, of course.” He walked around the corner and gently tossed me onto the mussed bedsheets.

  “And this is a foreign place?” I asked, looking up at him.

  He crawled on top of me and I flushed with warmth.

  “Mm-hmm,” he said, kissing my forehead, my nose, my lips. “You've never been here before.” He began kissing my neck, his hands traveling.

  “Is one supposed to enjoy a Christie-napping?” I asked, breathing heavily.

  He began to unbutton my shirt, smiling. “I hope so,” he replied then his kisses started traveling down my neck.

  Things started to get heated and I wasn't going to say no this time. I reached for his belt buckle, filled with excitement, anticipation and terror... and then the hotel room phone rang from the table beside us. Loudly. Like a referee's whistle calling a time out.

  Galvin dropped his head onto the pillow and groaned. He reached for the phone. “Hello? Okay, thank-you.” He hung up and kissed my lips. “I'll have to Christie-nap you another time, I'm afraid. The car is here to take us to the airport.” We grudgingly put ourselves back together and went downstairs.

  ♪ ♪ ♪

  Prey for Chance had gotten much more exposure since the release of their single Brutus, which made the plane ride very different from the first one we had together. People were stopping him, asking for autographs and pictures as we walked through the airport. Luckily, the airport staff was accustomed to celebrities and had a security guard on a tram escort us to the terminal.

  On the plane ride people were constantly staring and glancing back at us... several times. There were some who tried to take photographs of us as surreptitiously as they could.

  “I wouldn't mind so much if they would just ask. Sometimes I feel like a zoo animal,” Galvin whispered to me. He still had issues with flying (though he had shown much improvement) and didn't like sitting next to the window, so he was an open target for on-lookers in the aisle seat. I tried to get him to play a card game, to take his mind off of it, but he wanted nothing more than to crawl and hide inside his own private world.

  The moment we landed, Samuel was waiting in a car to brief Galvin on his immediate schedule. “So, first things first,” Samuel said and began checking his palm pilot while shuffling papers in the black leather folder on his lap. “We're going straight to your fittings for the Grammy's, then immediately after is Michael Donovon's birthday celebration.”

  “The CEO of H.I.T.Z. Records,” Galvin whispered in my ear when I gave him a quizzical glance.

  “You are requested to make an appearance,” continued Samuel.

  “That means insisted,” Galvin whispered again in my ear. His breath danced across my ear and gave me exhilarated goosebumps.

  Samuel didn't hear Galvin, or maybe he ignored the comment and kept reading off his palm pilot. “Tomorrow
morning, eight A.M., there is a meeting regarding the album at the office―I'll send a car―Christie is expected at De La Dream at nine A.M.―we've already scheduled a car. At 12:30, the car will pick up Christie then arrive at your residence to escort you to a sound check at the pavilion. Mingle, mingle, mingle, awards. You're scheduled to make an appearance at the H.I.T.Z. after party and at Stevie O'Boom's.” Samuel finally looked up from his device. “Okay, I think that's good for now. Be ready to go back to the studio Friday morning.”

  It was a lot to take in. I couldn't believe Galvin dealt with this on a daily basis. “Now I need you to sign this, this, and initial there,” Samuel finished, handing Galvin papers from his lap. When Galvin gave them back, Samuel offered Galvin another paper with a manilla file folder. “This is the agenda for tomorrow's meeting and these are the documents we discussed earlier.”

  Then, as if on schedule, his cell phone rang. He answered it, referring to his palm pilot and inputting new data almost constantly.

  I sat back, letting in all sink in. “Is this like a normal thing for you?”

  Galvin thumbed through the file folder, glancing at me. “What?”

  “Flying cross country, a scheduled day, signing papers in the back of a town car, not getting a moment to breathe...” As I was saying it aloud, it did sound Hollywood and Galvin was a part of that world, but the culture shock!

  Galvin closed the file and smiled. “I believe it's called 'the lamentable tale of an alarm clock life.'”

  The car pulled up in front of a high, sterile building. Samuel opened the door and, cupping his hand over the phone, said, “Galvin, I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow. Christie,” he nodded to acknowledge me and then crawled out of the car.

  Galvin let out an audible sigh and he relaxed as the car pulled away. “Where are we going now?” I asked.

  “My house,” he said with a smile.

  “I didn't know you had a house here,” I said, looking out the window, wondering where it was located.

  “I'm renting one―actually Trey and I are renting one while we're working on the new album. Well, H.I.T.Z. is renting the house for us,” he admitted, closing his eyes.

  “Huh, I guess I thought you lived in hotels when you weren't in Germany.”

  He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “That sounds about right.” His eyebrows arched in amusement.

  His house looked small on the outside, but it was a spacious split-level on the inside. It was white stucco with brown trim. The grass was very green and a large bush with white blossoms bloomed in the yard. When the breeze blew in the right direction, a sweet scent carried through the windows.

  The front door was large, heavy, and made to look wooden. The living room had large furniture―a u-shaped couch and an extra-large sitting chair that looked like it could fit two―and walls painted a deep beige. It opened into the kitchen where Trey and a short blonde stood in swimsuits and towels at the counter, running the blender.

  “Penina!” Trey exclaimed, turning off the blender and made his way to the other side of the marble countertop to give me a hug. He looked different―it was either the tan or an aura of happiness.

  “Hi Trey,” I said with a smile, releasing his hug.

  “I ahm zo glad you ahre 'ere,” he retorted, taking a frosted glass from his blonde friend, and then putting his arm around her. “Dees is Lee-ah,” he said her name in two measured syllables and it made me smile―like pronouncing her name correctly was a way he showed he cared deeply for her.

  “Hello.” Her smile was sweet, shy, but also somewhat flirty.

  Trey spoke to Galvin in German―you could tell it was easier for him, it flowed out of his mouth like a coursing river. When he spoke English it was like he was constantly tripping over his tongue.

  Galvin shot back an answer and the look on his face made me think it was a sarcastic one. Trey and Lee-ah went through the open french doors onto the patio after a few more pleasantries. “Come, I'll give you the tour,” Galvin said, taking my hand.

  He showed me the pool, the kitchen, and living room. Then we reached the staircase. Down a set of five carpeted stairs was a billiard room―complete with a wet bar―and the other side was a small home theatre. Up a set of eight wooden stairs was a hallway; one bedroom on the left, one on the right, and an amazing bathroom (the tub was as big as a pool!) straight ahead.

  Galvin's room had a large king size poster bed and a door leading to the bigger-than-life bathroom. Patio doors took us to a deck above the garage where you could see the Hollywood sign in the distance. The thing I liked best about his abode was that a picture of us from Australia sat on the bedside table; maybe he was keeping me around! “So what now?” I asked, hopping onto the bench at the foot of his bed.

  He sat beside me and brushed my hair behind my shoulder. “Trey said the car to take us for our fittings will be here in thirty minutes,” he paused to kiss my ear. I smiled through a yawn. “Then we go straight to the party.”

  “I thought you already had a tuxedo, why are you being fitted for a new one?”

  He continued to kiss me so that goosebumps began to erupt. “New designer. Names are everything. H.I.T.Z. set it up.”

  “Oh,” I said, I guess I had a lot to learn. “What time is it?” I said through another yawn.

  He glanced at the clock beside the bed. “It's 4:30,” he said, moving closer.

  “It feels much later,” I remarked. “What's the time difference?”

  After a few moments of kisses that were getting him nowhere, he replied, “Four hours. No wonder you look exhausted.” He moved further away from me, but turned his whole body to face mine. “I keep forgetting that you're not used to this. What if I went to the party and you caught up on sleep?”

  “Oh no, Galvin! I came all this way to spend time with you!” If I didn't think sticking out my bottom lip was childish, I might have done it.

  “It will be boring whether you go or not. I have no choice. You have a big day tomorrow, you need to get some rest.” I guess my face displayed more emotion than I thought because then he added, “All right. You can come to the fitting, we'll grab something to eat, but then I'll send the car home with you.”

  “I guess that's better,” I grudgingly admitted. And do you know what? Galvin was right. I had trouble keeping my eyes open at the fitting and fell asleep in the car on the way back to Galvin's.

  The next thing I remembered was Galvin waking me up with a kiss when the alarm clock read 7:30 the next morning. “Good morning, love,” he said, brushing hair out of my face. For several moments I thought I was still dreaming. The scene I woke to was so drastically different from each morning at Odilia's. “I have to go to work, but the car will be here in an hour for you.”

  I only grunted, still trying to accept this reality; I did not feel like a sixteen year old at that moment. “I'll see you in a few hours.”

  I sat up and looked around; I was still taking it all in. Galvin turned around and sat down beside me, looking me in the eye. “Remember,” he started, “whatever happens today, you love me.”

  It was too early for cryptic conversations so I nodded and said, “Yep, love, no matter what.” With that reassurance, he walked out of the room and to the car that was waiting for Trey and him.

  In the meantime I showered and threw on a long sleeve white shirt and a pair of jeans. I was excited that it was warm and sunny, but I packed for February-cold. I grudgingly put on the pair of boots I came to California in―why didn't I think ahead? I stole a banana from the kitchen for breakfast and saw a note by a large silver appliance.

  Penina-

  Green = coffee

  – Trey

  It was the mother of all coffee pots! I silently thanked Trey while I pushed the green button and it began brewing. I sat on the patio and downloaded a caffeine buzz while watching the palm trees sway in the morning breeze.

  The doorbell rang not soon after. A man in a dark uniform and hat was at the door, “Car for Miss Christi
ne Kelly is here,” he said with a curt nod.

  “Oh, that's me,” I said. “I'll be right out.” I regretfully put down my not-yet-finished cup of coffee and grabbed my wallet. As I walked to the car, the man held the door open. “What's your name?” I asked before getting in.

  “Hector, miss,” he replied never quite looking me in the eye.

  “Thank-you, Hector,” I said and slid inside.

  Hector had bent down to hand me a large coffee cup from a trendy coffeehouse “Hector,” I started, “this is the beginning of something beautiful between us.”

  The tone of his voice changed slightly to reflect amusement. “It's from Mr. Kismet, Miss Kelly. He sends his regards.”

  He knows me too well. “Ah, thank-you, Hector,” I smiled and he closed the door.

  About thirty minutes later we were in a busy high-end part of town. I never felt more out of place then when I got out of the car in my boots, jeans, and plain t-shirt. De La Dream was a faceless building―no windows or lights. There was a black door with small brass letters that spelled their name. There was a sleek, black and silver intercom with a camera lens.

  The car already left, carefully weaving through the busy street like a skilled artisan, so I pushed the button. “Name?” A high, tight female voice demanded.

  Do I look into the camera lens or pretend it's not there? “Christie Kelly,” I said. “I'm supposed to have―” I was cut off by the door opening.

  A blonde woman in a red skirt and blazer smiled brightly through her red lipstick. “Miss Kelly, please come in,” she greeted, sweeping her hand to invite me inside. Her voice was much more pleasant than the one on the intercom.

  I stepped into a world of lights and mirrors with a floral, slightly chemical scent. “Please follow me,” she instructed. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Another woman, in pleated black pants and a clean, straight laced white top offered me a variety of drinks in fancy glasses. I took the orange juice.

  “Now, Miss Kelly, we have instructions to make you comfortable and get you anything you like, so please let us know what we can do. We make it our priority to make sure each De La Dream guest is one hundred and ten percent happy with their experience.”