Duet Rubato

by Claerie Kavanaugh

  Even if I am?

  I grit my teeth. Especially then.

  “Fine.” I growl. “What do you want to hear?”

  Catie squeals and scoots a little closer to the soundboard. “Something from the show,” she encourages. “Ooh! Do your favorite one!”

  I stifle another eye roll but submit and start the beginning of Wizard and I. By the time I reach the end of the first verse, I’m so into the song I’m no longer in the stifling recording studio. Instead I’m on stage playing to a sold-out house—standing room only. I start to sway. My body moves into the choreography I’d practically committed to memory since I was ten. I belt out the final sustained note. When I look back at them, Grayson’s jaw has hit the floor, and Catie’s gaze sparkles with pride and a tinge of mischief.

  Oh my God. What the hell did I do? I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a white rabbit running around. Wonderland would make way more sense than whatever happened.

  My face burns and I stuff my hands in either side of my cardigan sleeves.

  Catie shakes her head. “I told you so.” She nudges Grayson, who blinks.

  “Addie, that was. . .”

  “Fantastic!” finishes the tech, bursting into the room. “Grayson, we gotta get back. The phones are going nuts!”

  “Ph-phones?” Why would the phones be ringing? We’re not even. . .

  A freight train rams into my gut as my eyes dart toward the soundboard. And the blinking red light in the top right corner.

  Fuck.

  “We’re on-air?” Addie’s shriek reverberates through the studio. Her nostrils flare with the rise and fall of her chest and her eyes bug out of her head as they dart around the room. They zero in on my fingers, hovering over the “On” button. A split second of frozen silence. And then, all hell breaks loose.

  “Oof!” I yelp when my chair teeters backward as Grayson shoves me out of the way in an effort to return to his spot at the center microphone. The tech barks orders into her headset as she scrambles outside the booth and rounds the opposite soundboard, flipping switches and hitting buttons. The booth door slams against the wall, and the vibration rattles my bones. Another tech, a young boy, holds it open, beckoning the rest of the cast along as if controlling a line of traffic. Several of them crowd inside, all mumbling and tossing one another confused looks.

  “Grayson?” asks one of the ensemble members. “What’s going on?”

  I swallow against the dryness scratching my throat as my gaze flicks in his direction, but he’s too preoccupied untangling the cord of his headset to pay them any attention.

  “Catie?” they ask again. But I can only shrug and shake my head. I haven’t recovered enough of my speech to explain myself yet.

  One of the last people to step through the door is Samantha. She surveys the scene with wide, careful eyes and pursed lips. Her focus settles on Addie, still frozen in the center of the room, hands shaking.

  “What happened in here?” Sam asks, her eyes finding mine.

  I gather some fabric of my peasant top in my palm and dig my nails into my skin.

  “She piss off the Snow Queen while we were on break?” Sam smirks and I manage to muster a strained chuckle. She walks up to Addie and taps her on the shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

  Addie snaps to life. I suck in my breath as she jerks out of her friend’s grip with an animalistic growl.

  I’m dead. As dead as Lucy Barker in Todd’s barber shop.

  Sam squeaks and steps back. “Hey! What the hell, Addie?”

  But she doesn’t turn around, instead stalking toward me like a lioness hunting her prey. More murmurs break out among my cast mates. Her eyes have morphed from calm, soothing hazel to a bright, glittering gold, and though I’m sure it’s a trick of the light, the change does nothing to slow my stampeding heart.

  “Lyn, I—oh!” She catches my arm in a vice grip. I force back a whimper as she drags me toward the entrance door.

  “Adaline?” The wheels of Grayson’s chair spin across the carpet and his eyebrows shoot up before he attempts to stop her. “What are you doin?”

  I cringe as she swivels at the contact of his hand against her arm, sneering.

  “Shut it, radio boy.”

  There are a few titters from the rest of the interviewers. Grayson stares at us, open-mouthed, but doesn’t have another chance to object before the tech motions for him to sit down and start the interview again. He throws a glare at Addie as he slaps on his headset and rambles an intro.

  “What a great surprise, right folks? That was our own Adaline Davidson, who, if you can believe it, is the assistant director of this production—”

  Addie whisks us out of the room and I struggle to keep up as we burst into the hall.

  When the door closes with a shuddering slam, she flings my wrist from her grip. I huff as I cradle it to my chest. There’s no redness, but Addie never did know her own strength.

  “What did you do that for?” I mumble.

  “Me? What about you?” She gestures toward the mass hysteria in the studio. I crane my neck to peer inside.

  Everyone is trying to act calm and collected, but by the way Grayson’s cheeks have flushed as he shuffles his notes back and forth, this is not something they were prepared for. Down the hall, the endless ringing of phones acts as a shrill backdrop to our argument. It’s already making my temples throb.

  “Tricking me into singing live, Catherine? How could you?” Addie bares her teeth and her fingers twitch the longer the noise goes on, as if restraining herself from tearing into the office and ripping the jacks from the wall.

  I wince. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Then again, if she hadn’t been so dang stubborn, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic measures in the first place. I roll my eyes, trying to let her dramatics slide off my back. “Well somebody had to do something. You were never going to get back out there on your own!”

  “What I do or don’t do with my career is none of your business!” She throws up her hands, then steps forward until we’re nose-to-nose with one another. “Why do you care so much, huh? Why?”

  I blink. She’s not serious. She can’t be. She has to at least have an inkling of the way I feel about her after everything we’ve gone through. After everything we were. “When did you become such a coward, Adaline Davidson?” I spit, clenching my fists. This is beyond ridiculous. It was one song!

  “Excuse me?” Her jaw locks as she snarls.

  “You heard me,” I snap. “Ever since we met, being on stage has been your life’s goal and now you’re throwing away a chance at your dream. And for what? Because you’re a little scared? That’s not a reason to walk away, or stop trying!”

  A shadow passes over her features. I level our gazes and narrow my eyes. Good. She should feel guilty.

  “Yeah. What do you know about real fear, hmm?” She arches a brow and stations her hands on her hips before resuming her wild gestures as she speaks. “Have you ever failed at something, so miserably, so fucking epically the reputation you’ve worked your whole damn life to scrape together went up in flames in a matter of minutes?”

  Yes.

  Catching my lips between my teeth, I keep my eyes trained to the tile as my feet scuff the linoleum. I take a deep breath and look up, but can’t quite find the courage to hold her cold stare, squeezing my eyes shut. “Well, I—” But she cuts me off.

  “No, of course you haven’t, you’re Little Miss Perfect!” She enunciates every syllable as if the words are acid on her tongue.

  My eyes fly open and I study her reddened face. “I, I’m what?” That’s the last thing I am. In fact, I’m closer to a walking time bomb than perfection, bracing myself for the next time my world collapses around me and my little girl. “You of all people should know—”

  She sneers and raises her voice another octave. “Oh, look at me,” she mocks. “I got my big break before I even finished college! Of course it’s okay to throw all my values out the window!”r />
  No, she did not!

  I’m shaking, but I don’t care. She has no right to throw my choices back in my face like this. “You left us, remember? It was your choice to walk out. No one else’s. And what do you know about my experiences anyway? You’d vanished into thin air! You can’t come waltzing back into my life out of nowhere ten years later and expect me to be the same person I was!”

  “Maybe it would’ve been better if I hadn’t. Because the Catie I knew never would’ve pulled that.”

  I grip the fabric of my skirt instead of lunging at her smug smirk. Exhaling through my nose, I count to twenty in my head before my lips part again.

  Think of Lyssa. You can’t support her from jail. When I speak, my voice is eerily calm. A lump forms in my throat. “Yeah? Well, she’s not here anymore.” Then I turn on my heel and stomp back into the studio, blinking away moisture. She doesn’t deserve my tears.

  I’m still trying to convince myself that’s true as Brayden cruises along the backroads to avoid traffic as we head home a few days later. I would’ve called Megan, but her show opens tomorrow and she’s spending every waking moment drilling moves. The car, as a result, is quiet as we coast along the empty asphalt, and there’s nothing to keep my mind from replaying our argument.

  Does she really wish we hadn’t reconnected? No. She couldn’t. Not over something like this. Not after everything we’ve been through. She’ll come back. She has to.

  Except, she doesn’t. There’s nothing chaining her to me. After this run is over, there’s nothing stopping us from going our separate ways and pretending like none of this ever happened. Everything will go back to normal and all of the petty, stupid drama that’s been complicating my life for the last month and a half will be gone for good.

  My throat closes and my heart aches. I take a shuddering breath, blowing mist onto the glass window as I rest my chin in my palm. The damage has been done. Addie started this with her cowardice. It’s not my job to clean up her mess.

  “She didn’t mean it, you know.”

  I blink and turn my attention to Brayden, who watches me with his signature sympathetic smirk. “Who?” I ask.

  He rolls his eyes, squeezing my hand. “Addie. Of course she doesn’t wish the two of you never met.”

  “How do you know?” I sink down in my seat, feeling the size of Alice after she sips from the “Drink Me” bottle. “You didn’t see her face.”

  “I didn’t have to,” he says, waving away my concern. “I’ve known her almost as long as you. You know how she gets when she’s freaked out. She’s impulsive with a capital I. Always has been.”

  I muster a dry laugh. “True.”

  “And besides.” He shrugs. “It’s not like you did it on purpose.” My spine stiffens. When his eyebrows shoot up, I can’t bear to meet his gaze. “Did you?”

  Clearing my throat, I fiddle with an imaginary thread on my clothes. “Well.”

  “Catherine!” His foot slams on the break and I lurch forward, belt rubbing my neck.

  “Hey!” I throw him a nasty look, but he scowls as he regains control of the car.

  “Sorry,” he grunts. “But what the hell were you thinking? How could you do that to her on purpose?”

  “It’s not like I planned it!” I huff. “I was tired of her hiding all the time. She’s forcing me to face my fears!”

  “But you have to in order to keep your job. You knew that when you took the role.”

  My cheeks heat up. “But—”

  “Nothing. You chose to put yourself on the line. Addie was helping you out because she loves you. You had no right to expose her.”

  With a groan, I flop against the seat, crossing my arms. “Not you, too. You’re my brother, you’re supposed to be on my side here!”

  “And I am. But that?” He shakes his head and guilt claws at my stomach. “That was too far, even for you.”

  “Whatever,” I scoff. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I turn the radio dial. At first there’s static, but finally a voice crackles through the speakers. I nearly rip the system out when I recognize it as Grayson’s, but his next words stop me. “And so, for the good of my daughter and her mother, this will be my last week at WGBC Radio.”

  “What?” I shriek. Brayden and I exchange looks and I fish my phone from my purse, hitting number four in my favorites and putting it to my ear. The call is put through on the second ring.

  “You’re live on WGBC Radio with Grayson Thomas. What’s your name?”

  “Grayson?” I stutter out.

  “Catie?” he echoes. “Wat are you doing”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I interrupt. “Did you quit on live radio?”

  Grayson chuckles without humor. “I did.”

  My brow furrows and my fingers clutch the armrest. I keep my gaze on the road and try to block out the tingling crawling up my arms. What is he thinking?

  “Why?” I manage. “You love being a DJ.”

  “But I love Lyssa more,” he replies. An aww track plays through the car speakers. My mouth drops open and I cock my head. Did you hear that, too? I ask silently. Brayden nods, motioning for me to continue.

  “Y-you do?”

  “Of course I do, Cate,” he says, and my stomach flips at the note of hurt in his words. “She’s so much more important than a job. You both are.”

  More ringing from other callers, but he doesn’t drop mine.

  I shake my head. “What about—”

  “I want what’s best for our daughter. Having both of us in her life. If I quit, Evelyn and Henry have nothing to lord over me anymore.”

  “But, the inheritances. . .”

  “I renounced mine, and Lyssa’s is in a trust fund they have no access to.”

  Holy crap. He’s serious. My heart swells and tears rush to my eyes. “Grayson, this is . . .” I sniff. “What changed your mind?”

  “Honestly? Seeing you and Addie at the interview. You two looked so happy, and Lyssa hasn’t stopped talking about her since they met. I wasn’t about to take that away from either of you.”

  The phones are going nuts, but Grayson ignores them.

  Tears leak down my cheeks faster at her name and I choke on a sob, but I don’t bother to correct him as I take a few shuddering breaths and fight to compose myself.

  “Catherine?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

  I nod and let out a wet laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. But what does this mean for Rebecca and the whole publicity thing?”

  “I’m taking care of it. Don’t worry. You’re free. We both are. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you and Lyssa get back on your feet.”

  I sit back in the chair, stunned. It’s over? It’s really over? “Grayson, are you serious?”

  “Deadly,” he says. The ringing is deafening now, and I hold the phone away from my ear as he sighs. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I still have a show to host, after all.”

  I smile wider than I have in months, swiping my free hand across my cheeks as Brayden squeezes my shoulder. “Of course. Go, go!” I’m about to hang up, but I forgot something. “Hey Grayson?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you. Seriously, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, Cate. I’m glad something helped me get my head on straight.” We laugh together, and then he has to get back to work. “Break a leg during tech week.”

  Once I hit “END”, Brayden clicks off the radio and we stare at each other as we coast into my neighborhood.

  “Did that happen?” he finally asks.

  I nod, still half-convinced I fell asleep and all of this is an elaborate dream. “I think so.”

  Brayden laughs then, loud and jolly. When he parks the car, he unclips his seat belt and leans across the truck to wrap me in a bone-crushing hug. “This is great, Catie! You’re free! You’re finally free!”

  “Yeah,” I mutter into his shoulder. “I guess I am.”

  Four days later, my fingers drum against the armrest
of the chair in Hellsworth’s office. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Hellsworth’s eyes drill a hole through my skull as I slip my phone from my pocket and text Maddy. I know her. There’s no way she’ll be able to shake off her curiosity about the coming conversation. I don’t blame her. I mean, what the fuck could I have done to make Hellsworth want to “keep me after” like this?

  I’m so fired.

  Don’t be an idiot. I can’t be fired. I’ve done nothing wrong! She’s being a bitch. I should be used to this by now.

  I shake the thought away, refocusing on my home screen. Opening my conversation with Maddy, I tap the text box and write:

  4:35 P.M. Addie: I’ll tell you everything later, I promise.

  As I hit send, Hellsworth clears her throat. My gaze shoots up.

  “Something more pressing need your attention, Miss Davidson?”

  She gestures to the phone and I cough before stuffing it in my pocket. “No, ma’am.”

  “Good. Because I think,” she tilts the screen of her desktop, “I have something you’ll want to see. Or rather, hear.”

  “Oh?” I scoot forward and lean over the front of her desk. She has Bright Light’s Facebook page pulled up. I didn’t think she knew how to use it. A video with a black screen is queued up to play.

  “It seems the interview—”

  A knock at the door cuts through her speech. I catch a glimpse of the music director’s beard through the thin vertical window. My brows furrow. Before I can question it, Hellsworth beckons him inside. The door swings open and he joins her behind the desk.

  “Neal?” I ask. He grins.

  “Don’t worry, lass. This is a good thing,” he whispers with a wink.

  “Right on time.” Hellsworth gives him a thin-lipped smile.

  “Um, excuse me, but why am I here?” I start standing. “It doesn’t seem like you need me, and I have about a million things to do before we open, so. . .”

  “Adaline,” Neal says with a laugh. “Wait a minute, don’t run off so fast.”

  “Yes,” Hellsworth echoes with a dry sneer. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your fans, would you?”