Serenade Me: A Rockstar Romance (Rock Chamber Boys Book 3)

by Daisy Allen

  “No. No. Anca. Mommy is, she’s never coming home again. Or Daddy. They were in a car accident. They, they died, Anca.”

  “What does that mean? What is ‘died’? Why are you being mean to me! I want mommy!”

  “I know, I know. But she’s not coming. It means, it means we’re never going to see them again.”

  “WHY?! I want my mommy!”

  “I know. I know, Anca. But I’m here.”

  “NO! I don’t want you! I want my Daddy! Daddy said we were going to the park this weekend! I want Daddy!”

  “He’s not… he’s not. He can’t.”

  “You’re lying! You’re being mean to me! I’m telling mommy!”

  Jez is hugging me. He won’t let go, even though I’m kicking him and biting him, he won’t let go. And all I want is for him to let go so I can go find mommy.

  Where is my mommy? Mommy?

  ***

  My dress is black. It’s got a big bow and it’s pretty. Nanna said I had to wear it, and not my pink dress with daisies on it. It’s ok, I guess. But everyone else is wearing black too. Even Jezzy. He’s wearing a nice suit I’ve never seen before.

  Mommy and Daddy still haven’t come home and Jezzy said we are going to say goodbye to them today. I don’t know how we can say goodbye if they’re not coming home. But I’m going to tell Mommy I don’t want her to go away anyway, then we won’t have to say goodbye.

  Jez is sitting next to me holding my hand. He’s crying so I squeeze his hand and he smiles at me. He keeps giving me hugs and kisses and telling me I have to promise to remember that he’s going to take care of me. And that I have to be a good girl because it’s going to be hard.

  I know I’ll be okay if Jez is with me.

  Everyone is quiet now and the priest is talking. He’s standing between two long boxes Jez told me are coffins. He said Mommy and Daddy are sleeping inside. And that I will go up and say goodbye later if I want to. He said I can’t see them, but they’ll be able to hear me and I should tell them that I love them and that I’ll never forget them and I’m going to grow up and be a good girl.

  Oh, there’s a pretty lady walking through the aisle now, and she’s sitting down next to a big, a big… I don’t know what it’s called. It’s brown and has long strings.

  Oh my.

  She’s running her fingers along it and… oh, it sounds so beautiful.

  Oh. I know this song, it’s Ave Maria. But, it sounds so pretty.

  I must be squeezing Jez’s hand too hard because he turns to look at me but I don’t care.

  I want to go sit next to the lady playing the big wooden thing. It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.

  I have to tell Mommy I want to play that thing too.

  Oh. I can’t… I can’t tell Mommy.

  Oh, I miss my mommy so much. I haven’t hugged her in so long.

  I’m jumping up and running to the coffin. I knock on it but nothing happens, I try to lift on the lid but it’s too heavy. Why won’t anybody help me.

  “Mommy! Wake up!!! I have to tell you something! Mommy, I miss you, wake up, I want to tell you something. Please Mommy, please… can someone please wake my mommy up please.” I can’t see anything, everything looks blurry. I’m laying down on the grass and I can feel Jezzy come up to me, picking me up and holding me.

  “You said Mommy was sleeping in there! But why won’t she wake up to talk to me!”

  “She can’t, Anca. She’s going to be asleep for a long, long time. You have to say goodbye to her.”

  “No! I want to tell Mommy I want to learn to play like that lady, Jezzy. Please, can you tell her?”

  “She knows, baby girl. She knows. And yes, I’m going to make sure that you can learn to play the harp.”

  “Harp?”

  “It’s what that lady was playing.”

  “It was so beautiful. Do you think I will be able to play like that?”

  “You’ll play better. I know you will.”

  “And then when Mommy and Daddy come back I can play for them.”

  “I think they’ll really like that. You practice hard and make them proud okay?

  “Okay…”

  “I love you, Anca.”

  “I love you, Jezzy.”

  Chapter Ten

  Marius

  The stomping is starting.

  That usually means we’re about 10 minutes past the concert start time.

  The audience is getting restless and they want us to know it.

  Stomp stomp stomp stomp stomp.

  Rock Chamber Boys. Rock Chamber Boys. Rock Chamber Boys.

  The chanting starts. Over and over.

  Ten, fifteen thousand voices in unison.

  It always amazes me how crowds can organize themselves into one unit.

  One hungry-for-music blood unit.

  “How long?” Sebastian is pacing. It’s his thing. He’s usually the one who starts our concerts. Since everyone else is too chicken shit to do it. Once in a while he might be able to convince Jez to, but then it’s back to him again for the next ten shows. As long as it isn’t me, I don’t care which one of them does it.

  Dennis goes over and puts a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. “Sit down! Another few minutes, there’s some problem with the spotlight.”

  “Great. Next time maybe don’t buy it off eBay.” Seb grumbles and continues to pace.

  “Shut up. And sit down and breathe, for fuck’s sake. It’s like you haven’t done this a thousand times before,” Jez growls at him, barely looking up from his phone.

  “Want to meditate with me?” I ask Seb from my spot on the floor, legs folded under me.

  “About as much as I want a mouthful of rat droppings.”

  “I can’t tell - is that a yes or a no?”

  Jez throws an empty water bottle at me. “Leave him alone, you know how he gets.”

  “Rock chamber boys! Rock chamber boys!” Brad chants along, waving his arms over his head. He’s probably had a bit to drink, so he’s not nervous in the slightest.

  Then I realize there’s still one person missing. “Where’s Anca?”

  “She’s in her own dressing room,” Dennis tells me as he listens in on the stage crew intercom.

  “Maybe someone should call her?”

  “She’s not playing for another 20 minutes, let her settle down,” Jez tells me, and there’s something weird in his voice, something strained, like he’s hiding something, something I’ve never heard before.

  It’s not right she’s on her own, she should be a part of all this. “I’m just going to go let her know she can warm up in our green room with us, saves being lonely.”

  “Let her be, dude. Trust me. She knows. She wants to be alone.” Jez blocks me as I get up to walk to the door.

  He stares me down and I back down. “Okay. If you say so.”

  Jez nods. “Yeah. It’s her thing. Hailey will take care of Anca, if there’s something she needs.”

  “Guys, you’re on!” Dennis says, jumping to his feet. He looks so wired I wonder if I touched him, would his head spin right off. His mouth is chewing a giant ball of gum so large I’m almost afraid he’ll choke on it. But he’s always like this before a big show.

  We file out of the greenroom and up the stairs.

  The stomping is louder now that it’s just above our heads. I can see dust falling from the ceiling and it amuses me to imagine tens of thousands of people falling through while they dance, a self-made mosh pit.

  The crew helps us up onto the platform backstage.

  My heart is racing.

  My mouth is dry.

  I consider making a run for it.

  And then Sebastian catches my eye and his face says it all.

  Let’s. Fucking. Do. This.

  We reach in and grab each others’ hands, crossing our arms and starting our pre-concert ritual. Just the four of us. A moment to remember where it all began.

  The crowd suddenly breaks into a roar as all the light
s are killed and we know. It’s time.

  The entire venue is pitch black and we make our way on stage, slowly, quietly, just hoping we don’t trip on something.

  I hear Jez and Sebastian find their chairs in the dark.

  I position my viola and pick up my bow.

  And now, I just wait.

  We change our set list almost every night depending on how we’re feeling a few hours from the concert. So, they never know what’s coming. But it always starts the same.

  Cleansing their senses palette with the pitch black canvas. Before the musical deluge.

  “And a one, two, three,” I can just make out Sebastian whisper to himself under his breath.

  And it starts.

  One brilliant note to wash over the crowd and call their attention. It rings out – loud, unwavering, pure. It primes us all for the sounds to come.

  Tonight, we’re starting with a new piece, we call it When Valkyries Cry. It’s our new mash up of Ride of the Valkyries and Prince’s When Doves Cry.

  It’s an epic piece that is going to bring the house down.

  And it starts with that one note.

  Then the lights blast into life, drenching us all in a cleansing white. Before we surrender to the music.

  Let’s fucking do this.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anca

  2 years ago

  I check the clock, two hours until curtain’s up.

  The knock on the door stops me from falling back onto the bathroom floor.

  “Hey, Anca! You okay in there?”

  It takes every ounce of my energy to answer, “Er, yeah. I’m good. Just… when am I going to learn, cafeteria tacos bad.”

  There’s a chuckle on the other side of the door and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to hear footsteps fading away.

  It’s quiet again, and I let my body slide back down, resting my face on the cool bathroom tile.

  I can’t do this.

  Yes, you can. My own voice tells me. But it’s not as strong.

  But now his voice is in my head, “You’re not ready, my angela. You are too weak. Only I really understand your gift, and you cannot waste it for those who don’t deserve it.”

  I drag myself up, trying to splash some water onto my face.

  I can do this. I tell myself again.

  I open the door. And he is there.

  “Anca. My darling.” He reaches out to me, and I’m too weak to step away.

  His cool fingers brush the damp hair from my forehead and he pulls me close, dropping a kiss onto the top of my head.

  “What did I tell you? See? Why are you putting yourself through this? You can’t do it.”

  “Ye… yes I can.”

  “Shhhhh,” he presses his finger against my lips. “Look at you, you can barely stand. You can’t perform tonight. They will laugh at you. Why put yourself though that?”

  He’s right. I’m not good enough.

  And he knows I know.

  I let him lead me to the harp and sits me down on the stool.

  “Imagine. Imagine them laughing. Is that what you really want?”

  “No… no,” I shake my head.

  “No, I couldn’t bear that for you either. It’s not your fault, they just don’t understand. They don’t appreciate your music like I do. NO one knows how beautifully you play, like I do.”

  I can’t help but look up at him, grateful. At least he understands me, sees me, hears me.

  “Play, Anca, just for me. For no one else but me.”

  “You won’t laugh?

  “Never. I will never laugh. But you must remember, they will. You must only ever play for me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Marius

  Present Day

  Jez moves his bow over the strings so fast I can barely keep up as we build to the chorus. I can hear the audience sing along “When Doves Cry!” as the familiar melody fills the concert hall. Sebastian’s bow is, as usual, torn to shreds, the strands glistening under the lights as we make eye contact for a moment, the same crazed look in all of our eyes. Brad glances over to me and I give him a nod. Yes, I agree, I can take the lead tonight.

  He steps back into the shadows, his violin falling an octave below, positioning to harmonize and the cellos fade away into a quiet but deep bass line as I make my way to the middle of the stage and take the solo.

  I close my eyes and clear my mind, letting my body deliver the music. I am just the messenger. My fingers ache and burn as they dance over the fingerboard and my bow arm screams for rest. But I don’t care. The notes cascade from my viola and I can feel my blood boiling with excitement, with anticipation, even though sometimes I don’t know what notes are coming.

  The melody moves from the Doves Cry chorus to the driving, thrilling, exhilarating climb of the climax of the Valkyries. Da da da daaaaaaaa da, da da da daaaaaaaaa da, it builds into one high, giant, epic note that I hold longer than my breath. And then it tumbles, a waterfall of notes and the other instruments join me, as if supporting me and my viola off a ledge.

  I open my eyes and grin at Jez who throws his head back and just laughs like a madman, the sounds lost in the glorious cacophony as we play the final note, holding it for a second before we cut the sound and the lights switch off.

  The roar from the crowd shakes the entire stadium and when the lights turn back on, we’re all in a line at the front of the stage, to take our first bow of the night.

  “You guys are so fucking brilliant and I want to have sex with you allllllllllllll,” Jez yells into his microphone and holds his arms out and stands in front of the crowd, taking it all in. Humans of every variation and gender scream in response and he bows to them, channelling the spirit of every dead rock god that can hear him. He and Sebastian are the true extroverts of our group. Brad and I stand back, punching each other on the arms, enjoying it all.

  “Shall we play you another song? Another new one perhaps?” Jez rasps into the microphone, still trying to catch his breath.

  The answer is a deafening cheer.

  A crew member pushes Anca’s harp onto the stage and sets the stool down next to it. We all move back, so that the instrument is center stage.

  “You’ve heard about her, you’ve been asking about her, so tonight, here she is, in the flesh and blood herself, my baby sister, Anca Petrescu!” Jez announces and a small spotlight appears at the side of the stage.

  There’s a pause, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting for my, and their, first glimpse of her. She finally steps out from behind the curtain. A vision in a pure white silk jumpsuit, elongating her legs, and hugging every curve of her body. Damn. I tuck my viola under my arm and join in the applause.

  “Yeah, Anca!! You go girl!” I yell out, and she glances at me for a second, her face stretched tight as she passes me on her way to the harp stool, hands wringing.

  My heart jumps at the sight of her. And I tell myself it’s just that I’m feeling nervous for her. She looks so little, so lost. I wish I’d had a chance to talk to her before the concert now, to reassure her, tell her that we’re all just here for a good time. That she can do it.

  Jez puts down the microphone and returns to his chair and cello.

  Sebastian looks over at Anca, and she lifts her hands, positioned over the harp strings. He looks over to Jez who nods and begins the song with a single repetitive note. Sebastian joins in, a soft, soaring, lyrical phrase laying over the top, as Brad fades in, weaving his notes between the two.

  I count four beats, the cue for Anca to start.

  One, two, three, four. I hold my breath, ready for the harp. But there’s nothing.

  The guys continue, looping, missing a cue is nothing new, we do it several times every performance. Sometimes we’ve forgotten the cues, or we’re not ready, or we simply just aren’t feeling it yet. That’s the essence of live performance. It’s alive, no performance is the same.

  Jez’s cello thumps the beat in the background. One, two, three, four. I
count again. Again, nothing. I look over, expecting to see her fiddling with her harp or equipment, something to explain her silence. But she’s just sitting there, hands still poised over the harp, eyes open, like she’s waiting.

  Jez throws a look at me, as he takes over her part, jumping in on her cue as I walk over to her, leaning over and whisper, “Are you okay?”

  She says nothing. Does nothing.

  “Anca, is everything ok?”

  This time there’s a shake of her head, almost imperceptible, but it’s there.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I… I… I don’t think I can do this,” I barely hear her faint voice over the music.

  “What? Yes, yes you can.” I tell her.

  “No, I.. I can’t. I’ve…I gotta go,” she says, sounding louder, more panicked. But she doesn’t move.

  “You can do this. It’s just like any other time you’ve played. Ignore the crowd, it’s just you and your harp.”

  “I-I can’t. Oh my god, what am I going here? I’ve got to go! Get me off the stage, Marius,” her voice trembles with every word. She sounds so, so terrified. What is happening to her? Lucky for her, or us, stage fright I understand intimately. And the last thing that will help right now, is extra pressure. I lean closer, but make sure not to touch her.

  “It’s ok, it’s ok. You don’t have to play. I’m right here. But let’s try this, okay? Let’s just sit here for a minute, and if… when you feel ready to, just jump in, whatever you want, we’ll work around you. We do this all the time,” I say hoping it’s reassuring her.

  “Marius. I just can’t.” She turns to me for the first time. Her eyes are frantic, panicked.

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry, I’m here, we’re going to get you through this,” I say and crouch down next to her, so I can look up into her eyes. “Just put your hands in your lap, and take a deep breath.” I coach her, keeping an ear out on what’s going on with the guys. Everything sounds great, not like we practiced, but hopefully the audience won’t really know the difference at this point.

  She does as I say, and I see her shoulder rise and fall, the breath filling and emptying in her lungs. “Do you feel a little bit calmer?”