by Daisy Allen
“Okay, time for Cadey to go night-night. Seb said you’re going to join us in a few weeks, right?” Brad asks as he reaches out for his own goodbye hug.
“Oh yeahhhhh. In that case… later bitches! I gotta go love my man up!” With that, she suddenly regains control of her limbs, grabs Sebastian by the shirt and drags him down the hall.
“Damn, I’m glad I’m not sleeping next to their room tonight,” Brad says as we watch them disappear into their room.
“Hmmm? Why?” Anca asks, shifting her handbag to her other shoulder. The strap pulls on her dress and exposes the translucent white of her neck. That sexy, impossibly elegant, silky skinned neck. Shit.
“Let’s just say, they… enjoy each other… loudly,” Emily whispers to Anca before raising her arms over her head in a big stretch and yawn. “Okay, guys, I’m gonna hit the sack as well.”
Brad cringes and puts his hands in front of his groin. “I thought we only do that on birthdays and special holidays?” She rolls her eyes and waves us goodbye with Brad following dutifully behind her, grabbing her ass, eliciting a small yelp.
“Guess that leaves you and me,” I say to Anca, as we look over at Jez passed out on the couch in the living room. “You tired?”
She shakes her head, her mass of curls swaying, cascading down her neck and back. “Not really. I’m still pumped from all the winning.” She gives me a look that dares me to challenge her. I can’t help but take the bait.
“Um, we didn’t win.” I point out to her.
“We came second. That’s pretty good too,” she insists.
“Second out of two teams.”
“Oi! Why ya’ trying to kill my buzz?”
I laugh louder than I expect to. She’s been a good sport all night, no matter how much ribbing she got from us about her bowling skills, and it was a lot.
“Sorry, let me make it up to you. How ‘bout one last celebratory drink, for the road?” I wander over to the drinks trolley, eyes glazing over a little at the selection. The hotel had worked hard to make sure we wouldn’t want for anything.
“Sure. Can we go out to the balcony? I’ve been dying to go out there all night.”
“Absolutely, go ahead, I’ll bring the drinks. Gin and tonic, yeah? With two slices of lime?”
There’s a flicker of surprise in her eyes and she nods. I watch as she pulls on the sliding door and steps out into the night. It’s a few seconds before I remember what I’m supposed to be doing and force myself to concentrate on making the drinks and not on how the back of her ass curves into her long legs.
All the animosity is gone. It dissipated in all the laughter and jokes and smiles and stolen glances of the night. And I shouldn’t be here. I know I shouldn’t.
She’s standing with her arms stretched out wide, her eyes closed and face tilted up to the moonlight when I join her a minute later with our drinks. I pull the door closed behind me, put the glasses down on the side table, and watch her.
Her chest rises from a deep, deep breath and she raises her arms over her head, letting them hang there for a moment before they fall to her sides as she lets out a breath with a loud “whoosh.”
I watch her as she repeats the routine, raising her arms out to the side, taking in a deep breath. Then raising them over her head and then letting them fall, “whoooooooosh.”
I come up behind her and lean in, whispering in her ear. “What on God’s holy earth are you doing?”
She doesn’t move and just stands there, her eyes still closed. “You do it too,” she whispers. It’s not a moment for loud voices.
“Do what?”
“Just copy me, ready?”
I want to laugh but there’s something spellbinding about her, that I can’t help but succumb to the request.
I move next to her, against the railing of the balcony. When she lifts her arms up, I copy and breathe in deep. I take a quick peek out of one eye to see her lift her arms and I mirror her. Then we let them fall, pushing the air out of our lungs. The deep in and out of air almost makes me dizzy and I open my eyes and fix them on the lights twinkling above and below me. Everything blurs and I feel like I’m floating to the heavens.
“We’re flying.” I exhale into the cool night air.
“Yeah, we’re flying,” she agrees, in a soft, husky whisper.
Then she turns to me, and we lock eyes.
And then her lips are on mine.
Hard and deep and urgent.
My arms come up to wrap around her back, as she backs me up against the balcony railing. Her mouth crushing mine. Her tongue in my mouth. Her hands pressed against my chest.
In that one second, my body jerks alive, and I want her.
God, I want her so bad, I can taste it.
It tastes like, it tastes like fucking vanilla.
Sickly sweet and cloying and invading every one of my sense.
“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath and against her mouth, my hand coming up the tangle in that magnificent chestnut mane of hers.
“Fuck,” she murmurs in response.
She’s so warm, every part of her, exuding this heat that I’m clinging to for life.
And then it dawns on me, what we’re doing. And everything stops. I pull away, her hands still clinging to the back of my shirt.
“Dammit. DAMMIT!” I spin around, turning my back to her. “We can’t do this.”
She nods and turns away from me, her hand grabbing at her hair, pulling it to one side, twisting it in her hands. “I’m gonna go.”
“Wait. Anca.” I pivot around, calling out to her. I’m not sure why.
She doesn’t say anything, she just turns back to face me.
“We can’t do this.” I say again.
“I know.”
“No, I mean. We really, really can’t.” My hand twitches to reach out to her.
“No, I know, Marius. I know.” She shakes her head.
“You know why, right?”
She shrugs, “Yes. I mean, no. No, not really. Why?”
She must know, is she just wanting me to say it? “Why do YOU think?”
“Because you don’t want to?” She looks up at me with eyes so vulnerable, my heart clenches.
“Oh my god, no. Fuck, god no. I want to, I want it to so bad I’m afraid my zipper’s not going to hold out much longer against the strength of my… want.” Her eyes flick to my groin, just for a second, then away. But I see it. “No, Anca. Because… Jez.”
She narrows her eyes and takes a step towards me.
“What about him?”
“You’re his sister.”
“Yeah?”
“And. I’m his…”
“Friend? Bandmate?” She suggests.
“No, well, yes, but, above all else, I’m his… bro.” And he is mine.
“So, that makes you my bro?” She muses, tentatively.
“Kinda.” I shrug.
“OK. Ew. Moment over.” She scrunches up her face.
I let out a small chuckle and she gives me a one shoulder shrug and sits down on one of the wicker chairs.
“Fuck.” She says, her head falling into her hands. “This was NOT supposed to happen. How did this happen?”
“Well, there wasn’t much chance of it before. Maybe we should go back to hating each other?”
“I could never hate you, Marius, I never have and I never will.’
“Are you sure. You didn’t like me so much the other day.”
“You’re an idiot.” Her words are insulting, but the smile she gives me tells me a different story. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was 13 years old. I, er, I even told Jez about it.”
“Oh. How did that go down?”
“Not good.” She lets out a small laugh. It’s so cute I just want to go up and give her forehead a kiss. And then ravage her. I slap my forehead to get the image out of my skull. “Anyway. It was just a puppy love thing.”
“Wow. Okay. Huh. And that kiss just then?”
“Think of i
t this way, it was just to satisfy the teenager inside me.”
“And what about the raging horn dog in me?”
“He will have to say goodnight to me now.”
“Yeah. Fuck. This sucks.” I sigh and reach out to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. “All I want to do right now is kiss you until you beg for breath.”
She looks away and smiles. “The teenager in me is really happy to hear that. It was a pretty big crush.”
We sit for a moment, listening to the traffic sounds drift up to our balcony. I try not to think about how long it’s been since I’ve felt this strong an attraction to someone. And why it doesn’t matter that I feel this way now.
“Hey,” I say after the moon has shifted in the sky. “Remember all those things I said that night, that I said was just to surprise you?”
“Yeah,” she nods.
“I meant every word. Every word.”
“Marius…” she looks up at me, and everything I’m feeling is reflected in her eyes.
I can’t stop myself when I lean down, and press my lips against hers.
It’s different this time. Soft, tender, sweet. So right in every way. But so wrong in just the one way.
I pull back, just far enough so that our lips aren’t touching, but I can still taste the sweet tinge of the gin on her breath.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I just can’t. I won’t do it to Jez.” I whisper, my words brushing against her lips.
Her hand comes up to softly caress my cheek and she smiles. I can’t see it on her face, I’m still so close, but I can see it in her eyes. “I know. He’s lucky to have us,” she sighs, and I’d chuckle if it didn’t hurt.
“Goodnight, Anca.” I whisper.
“Goodnight, Marius.” She replies.
And I leave before I do something no apologies will ever repair.
Chapter Nine
Anca
People are calling my name.
MINE.
Complete strangers behind the barricade as we walk out from Charles De Gaulle Airport to the cars waiting for us. Mostly they’re yelling out “ROCK CHAMBER BOYS” and the guys’ names, but once in a while I hear “Anca! Anca! Over here!” and the light of a camera flash go off.
Hailey told me yesterday that since they released my name as a guest performer, the radio talks shows and online blogs are already clamouring for information about me; who I am, where I came from, my musical background. She told me as if it were nothing, no big deal. Maybe she’s just been around this business for too long. I can tell you this - strangers knowing your name even though they know nothing about you? IS very, very weird.
“Anca, Anca! You’re beautiful! Where are you from, honey? Blow us a kiss!” A guy dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket jumps over the barricade and shoves a camera in my face. He’s so close I can smell the cigarette smoke in his hair and I see he hasn’t shaved in at least 3 days. He trips over his own feet and knocks into me, and I stumble a few steps back.
Marius appears out of nowhere and grabs the guy’s shirt and throws him against one of the waiting cars. “Get the fuck out of here, scumbag!” He yells, snatching the camera away. “If you know what’s good for you and your camera, you’ll stay the hell away from her.”
“I will, geez, sorry,” the paparazzo surrenders, holding his hands up. Marius growls at him again before shoving the camera into his chest and shouting at one of the bodyguards to get rid of him.
“You ok?” Marius turns back to me and asks.
“Er, yeah, sorry,” I stutter a little, still slightly shaken, “he just startled me. I’m fine.”
He holds my look for a little longer than is comfortable and I try not to squirm like a teenager, trying to look brave.
His eyes soften a little and he gives me a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I’ll make sure they beef up our security a bit, okay? French fans are a little crazy - fun, but they have no barriers. I mean, it is where Sebastian comes from.” He winks and I feel the fear leave my body.
“Anca! Are you okay?” Dennis runs up to me, his face looking both worried for me, and furious at the photographer at the same time. He’s scary. I probably couldn’t lie to him if I had to.
“Anca! You okay?” Sebastian and Brad ask, also circling me.
“Guys! I’m fine! No big deal. But thank you for worrying. Now, let’s get ready for our show and give these Frenchies something to really talk about, shall we?”
I climb into a car and expecting Marius to follow me. Out of nowhere, Jez pushes past Marius and slides in after me. I look out the window to see Marius just shrug and move to the next car down the line. I’m kind of relieved. We haven’t really spoken about what happened the other night, the last three days filled almost to the second with rehearsals.
But it’s probably better this way. I can’t believe I even admitted that I’d had a crush on him. No more drinking around Marius, though. That’s been established.
But the kiss.
The TWO kisses, I remind myself.
I just can’t seem to forget them. Forget the way his lips felt against mine, his body against mine.
But he’s right, the last thing that we and the band need is for Jez to find out. Because if Jez finds out, it’s game over. For everyone. The band might be the most important thing for everyone else. But for Jez, I know, it’s me.
***
For our week in Paris, Dennis has rented out a huge apartment on the Rue de Kennedy. It’s in a quieter residential part of the city, but right across the river from the Eiffel tower.
By the time we get settled the sun has set and the lights on the tower twinkle like little raindrops stopped short in the sky by the sheer beauty of the moon.
It’s so beautiful, I can’t stop staring out the window from our living area, just sitting back on the leather couch, a side-cart full of every drink imaginable, the private chef a button away, and the Eiffel tower so close I can reach out and touch it. Every now and again, there are the unmistakable sounds of people having fun, as a bout or barge floats down the river. And I wave to every single one.
All this luxury, it’s overwhelming and I’m so unaccustomed to it. My bank account is full from the money Jez sends me every month, but I’ve never really felt the need to use too much of it, just what would get me through my last year of college. It never occurred to me that with Jez’s money, which he always insists is our money, there’s really nowhere I couldn’t go or nothing I couldn’t do.
I smile, thinking of all the possibilities, and remind myself to talk to Jez about it when we have a moment.
“Okay, everybody ready?” Dennis comes in, carrying his trusty clipboard.
We all nod. Even me, even though I’m not really sure that I am.
“Let’s go. They’re waiting for us.”
***
There’s a reason the harp is the instrument depicted as being the music of heaven. It’s because it’s the sound divined by God for holy souls to dance to.
I was six years old when I decided I wanted to play the harp. Jez was learning the cello and piano. And even at 10 years old everyone was talking about what a virtuoso he was going to be. They wanted me to be like him.
They didn’t know that even though I loved Jez more than anything in the entire world, the last thing I wanted was to follow in my brother’s footsteps. The same brother who protected me and watched out for me, was also my tormentor. Tormented me with his over protectiveness, with his worry, with his concern. If he saved me from bullies, then he also alienated me from friends. If he stood up to teachers in my defence, he also made me their most hated pupil.
And if he ever thought his being better than me in cello would discourage my own progress, he would stop playing it, to give me the chance to shine. And that’s the last thing I wanted. God had given Jez a gift, and I wasn’t going to be the reason he didn’t use it.
But it wasn’t ever a question for me, what instrument I wanted to play.
All because of th
e first time I ever heard someone play the harp.
***
17 years ago
Everyone is crying.
I don’t know why but everyone is crying.
I’m looking around and no one is talking to me.
I’m thirsty but no one will talk to me and I can’t find mommy anywhere.
Oh, there’s Jez.
He looks like he’s been crying, too.
I smile at him and hold my arms out. He gives me a big hug and sits down next to me.
“Anca, I’m going to tell you something and you have to promise me to say you’ll always remember, okay?”
“Okay, Jez. I promise.”
“No, not yet. After I tell you.”
“Oh.”
“You know I love you.”
“I love you, too, Jezzy. I’m thirsty.”
“Okay, I’ll get you something to drink in a minute.”
“Can I have orange juice?”’
“Yes. But after, okay?”
“Okay.” I nod, I’ll always do what Jezzy tells me.
“And I will always be here to take care of you. If you ever need anything, you tell me and I will do it for you. There’s nothing I won’t do for you. Okay? Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“And you’ll remember?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Good.”
“Can I have some orange juice now?”
“Soon. There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
He’s crying again. Maybe he’s in trouble for not putting away his toys. Mommy tells me off sometimes because I don’t put my toys away.
“Why are you crying, Jezzy?”
“I’m sorry, Anca. Mommy and Daddy. They. They’re not coming home. Ever again.”
“What? Why not?” I don’t understand what Jezzy is saying. “Mommy said this morning she was going to pick me up from pre-school and then Nanna came. She never comes. But Mommy will be home later?”