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

by Daisy Allen

  She takes another breath and nods her head slightly.

  “Ok, good. Just keep breathing, that’s the most important thing.” I watch her for chest expand and deflate for a few seconds. “Now, in your mind, just play through those first few notes, can you hear them?”

  “No.” She shakes her head immediately, her shoulders tensing.

  “Anca. Don’t fight it. Clear your mind, just ignore everything. It’s just you and me here. Don’t give a fuck about the band or any of those people out there. Now try again. Visualize those first few notes. Can you hear them?”

  There’s a pause, but something shifts in the air, an acquiescence. “Y-yes.”

  “Play them over again. Louder. Stronger.”

  “Okay.”

  “Excellent, you’re doing so great. Now, when you’re ready, put your hands on the your harp, close your eyes and just feel the strings and the wood and the neck of your harp.”

  Her fingers twitch in her lap and then I watch her light them, reaching for her instrument. She runs her fingers over her it, her eyes still closed. I see her hands relax from their rigid state, to soften and caress her harp. I know what that’s like, how that familiarity can change everything.

  “How do you feel?” I prompt her.

  “Okay.”

  “You ready?”

  She says nothing.

  I ask her again, “Are you ready, Anca? You can do this. I believe in you.”

  Her chest rises and I hear a whoosh of air.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay!”

  I gesture my head to Brad who’s been watching and he wanders over to Seb, I can just his lips moving and suddenly the music pulls back, and they return to variation of the initial opening loop. They play it once, and I wait. But she doesn’t come in. I nod again to Jez who starts again.

  “Come on, I’ll come in with you, okay?”

  She nods.

  One, two, three, four.

  I pull my bow and play the first refrain of her entry. There’s a soft plucking from her harp, and I can see her fingers moving. I don’t stop just yet, playing along with her, letting my viola lead her and the sound from harp grows louder.

  Louder and stronger with each note. Soon, the volume from her harp matches mine and I stop playing her melody and let my viola fade away.

  The crowd catches on to the new sound, cheering her on.

  I see a twitch at the corner of her mouth, and her breath grow shallow and her foot tap in time with the beat. It’s the same thing I’ve seen over and over again with my bandmates, when it stops becoming about us playing the music and letting the music travel through us.

  She’s okay now.

  I wander over to the guys, letting her shine center stage. Jez gives me a nod and I smile back.

  Whatever happened, he knows.

  And now he knows I know too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anca

  “Anca! Anca! Anca!”

  The crowd’s shouting my name so loudly that I can barely make it out.

  I’m standing in the wings looking out at the stage and the guys are all holding their hands out to me, waving to me to come join them.

  “Come on, let’s make a little more noise for our superstar guest harpist, ANCA!!!!!!!” Jez yells into the microphone!!! “My baby sister, everyone! A fucking prodigy!! And just in case you’re wondering, all you hot guys – no, she’s not fucking available! I see you, I can smell your horny pheromones!!”

  The crowd laughs and goes back to chanting my name. Hailey laughs and pushes me on stage and I almost trip on a loose cord. Marius runs over and catches me, takes my hand and pulls me to the front center of the stage. Jez takes my other hand and we all bow in unison.

  “Merci, Paris!! À bientôt!” Jez shouts, waving as we file off stage.

  I press my hand to my chest, feeling how fast my heart is racing. I feel like it’s like a runaway train about to jump its tracks.

  “Oh my god,” I whisper, to no one in particular. Everyone is running around backstage busy with their own jobs. Someone in the crew bumps into me and I crash against the wall.

  “Oh my god, Anca, I’m so sorry,” he says before running off, an armful of cables threatening to trip him up

  “Oh, it’s okay,” I say, but he’s already gone.

  “Are you talking to yourself?” I hear Marius come up behind me and ask.

  “No.” I scrunch up my nose. Trust Marius to be the one to catch me looking like I’m talking to myself. Like I haven’t embarrassed myself enough in front of him tonight.

  “Then who are you talking to?”

  “None of your business.” I glare at him, hoping he’ll drop it.

  “Well, is it alright if I interrupt your conversation with none-of-your-business? I have something to ask you.”

  “Um, sure.” Shit. Here we go.

  “Come in here,” he leads me into an empty dressing room.

  I sit down on the couch and wait for him to join me, but he doesn’t.

  He stands by the door, shoving his hands in his pockets, one hand pushing back the seat drenched hair on his forehead.

  “I don’t know how to say this.”

  “Well, that’s a first,” I taunt him.

  “Arghh!” He growls. Yup, that’s the sound I was expecting to hear.

  “Force of habit, sorry,” I say remembering our pact to be civil. He just waves it away.

  “Anca. Um, are you okay? I mean… what happened, on stage, at the start of your set? Does that… does that happen a lot?”

  I bite my lip and look up at him. I consider lying, but then I remember the way he’d come to my rescue. The way he’d helped me, instead of yelling at me or making me feel bad that I could’ve ruined his concert, he’d just calmly helped me. He didn’t deserve a lie. In fact, none of them do. I shouldn’t have let it get this far.

  “No.”

  He frowns a little, but he lets me continue.

  “It doesn’t happen a lot because… I don’t let it. I hardly ever perform for that reason. I have pretty bad stage fright.” I guess that’s one way to put it. I’m on stage, and I’m frightened as hell. What other explanation can I give him, without telling him everything?

  “Oh.”

  “But, I thought I had it under control, I had a doctor prescribe me a sedative and that’s helped in the past. I took one earlier but, I guess... I dunno, I guess it didn’t work. I’m… I’m really sorry, Marius. I’m so sorry.” I look down at my hands. I’ve fucked up everything. And now he’s here to tell me he was right about me joining the tour all along.

  “No, no, no. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t ask you to make you feel bad. I asked you because… well, I know how it feels.”

  I look up at him to see if he’s making fun of me, but his eyes are kind and soft.

  “You do?”

  “Fuck, yes. It’s why… it’s why I started meditating in the first place. And trust me I had it worse than you.”

  “That doesn’t seem possible.” But I can’t help feeling better for hearing it.

  “Have you projectile vomited then passed out in said vomit?”

  “Um, NO.” Okay, that IS bad.

  “Then yes, I had it much worse than you.”

  “Wow. I… I didn’t always have it. It’s just, er, well, just something that developed over the last few years. I almost didn’t even graduate because of it. Whoever heard of a Music Performance major who couldn’t perform?” Someone who was trained to fear it, that’s who. I go cold at the memories teetering on my brain. Go away.

  “Well, that’s understandable.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, yeah, you were performing because you had to. To graduate. Not just for fun, or for pleasure, right?”

  Yes. “I guess.”

  “And let me guess, you graduated top of your class.”

  I blink before answering. “Maybe.”

  “That takes a lot of pressure. And well, sometim
es you’re not really sure if you’re playing what you want to, or what they want you to. When and where does feeling like a sell out or performing side show act start?”

  I don’t say anything, I’m wondering how it is he can understand me so well. Not everything, but the part that matters.

  “Anyway, I know what it’s like, that intense pressure. And being told to perform on cue,” he shrugs, like he’s made peace with it all though.

  “Except you’re good at it. What am I going to do if I can’t perform? What kind of musician does that make me?”

  “Firstly, did you not just hear the projectile vomit story? Secondly, you don’t have to perform in front of crowds to be a musician. Hey. Don’t scoff, look at me,” he waggles a finger at my sneering face.

  “Um, I am looking at you.”

  “Sorry, I was caught up in my speech, and they always say that in movies when they’re trying to make a point.”

  I can’t help but giggle and look down at my hands, they’re red from wringing each other.

  “Hey,” Marius says, this time his voice is so gentle it makes my heart soften a little, “no, really, look at me.” He lifts my chin with his finger, and I feel a little tingle where our skin meets. “If you never played another note again in your life, you’d still be a musician. But being a musician doesn’t define you, Anca. You’re also a sister and a friend and a smoking hot potty- mouthed witch,” he finishes with a smile. “But come on, this stage fright you’re experiencing is so not a big thing. I will help you.” He sits up straight and grins at me. “Trust me, in this case, it takes someone who understands the problem.”

  “And you would do that for me?”

  “I’d do anything for smoking hot, potty-mouthed witches.”

  Why? I wonder, but am too scared to ask. So I just say, “Thank you.”

  He shakes his head, “Don’t thank me…”

  “But…”

  “Shush! I wasn’t done.”

  “Sorry.”

  “As I was saying… don’t thank me. Buy me a post-concert celebratory drink. Come on, I’m sure everyone’s waiting for us.”

  He throws the door open and steps out into the hall, chanting, “ROCK CHAMBER BOYS! ROCK CHAMBER BOYS”

  I laugh and follow him, and wonder, if it’s the past and my performance issues that’s going to be my biggest problem. Or if it’s going to be that guy with the sad brown eyes that can read my every thought who is going to ruin everything.

  ***

  “To my bandmates, who can charm the nipples off an angry bull, and play like Lucifer himself, to our lovely PR assistant, who buries all the bad and makes us look good even in sunlight, to our crew, who make us sound good, and to our lovely guest performer, Anca – a star was born tonight. To us!!!” Brad raises his drink as he toasts us and we all cheer as we clink our glasses together.

  “To us!!!”

  I take a long, deep drink of my brain-freezingly cold beer, enjoying the cool, refreshing bubbles prickling the back of my throat and the froth tickling my lips. I didn’t even realize how thirsty I was. Everything that’s happened is a blur. I wonder if I’ll ever really remember the things that happened tonight.

  “Anca, you really were something else tonight. The crowd went so wild for you. Thank you for adding a little class to our little side show act,” Sebastian says and it sounds so sincere I can’t help blushing at his praise.

  “Hear, hear,” Marius agrees, raising his glass to me and gives me a wink.

  “Yeah, let’s swap you out for Jez!” Brad suggests, to the unanimous agreement of everyone.

  “HEY!” Jez protests and pouts, before breaking into a grin, reaching over and hugging me around the shoulders. “Nah, she’s alright, my little sister. I mean, I did teach her everything I know.”

  “Ahem, Anca is not a manslutsticle!” Hailey points out.

  “Okay, maybe not that. I already told her she’s not allowed to have a boyfriend until she’s 50. And even then, only holding hands. And some innocent dancing, as long as they adopt the ‘6 inches between you for the holy ghost’ rule.”

  “Yeah, that’s not what the 6 inches between us is going to be for, my loving brother.” I can’t help shooting at him with a wink, to the sound of whistles and whoops and a glare from Jez.

  My eyes steal a look in Marius’ direction, who I’ve been trying to avoid and catch him doing the same. He holds my look for a moment, then coughs and looks away, pretending to call for the waitress for another round of drinks. I can’t help feeling disappointed, when I know I shouldn’t. You’re just lucky he hasn’t kicked you out of the band, you idiot. I remind myself. Stolen glances are not going to do you any good.

  “Oh, but I’ve been meaning to ask.” Brad turns to me. “What happened at the beginning of your first song, you missed the cue a few times and then Marius went over to talk to you before you started playing.”

  I open my mouth, but I don’t have a reply.

  My eyes flit to Marius’s again, but he’s already on it. He stands up and hands around a bowl of peanuts.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about that. I went over when Anca missed the cue and noticed one of her pedals was stuck so I just gave it a little… unsticking. It was fine after that.”

  “It was better than fine. It was bloody, fucking magical.” Hailey says, throwing her head back, downing a shot.

  “Thanks, Hails.” I smile at her. Every word of praise filling up the hole of dread still gurgling in my chest that they’re going to find out I’m a total fraud.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’ve thanked me enough by adding some estrogen to the group. I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself with Cadence gone. Emily’s good, but she’s busy writing post-show a lot for her publication and blog, and these guys can be pretty unbearable with their chest pounding after a good concert.”

  “Hey, I can pound a chest with the best of them.” I grin, thumping my fist against my chest and giving a little growl. The beer has obviously gone to my head fast.

  “Oh my god, the images of Anca and Hailey chest pounding!!” Brad says and makes a panting noise. Then stops. “Oh wait, I’m engaged. Damn. Jez, you take over.”

  “Gross, she’s my sister, dog turd for brains.”

  “Fine, then Marius.”

  “She’s Jez’s sister, double dog turd for brains!” Marius protests, and I’m careful to not look at him, in case he sees my disappointment.

  “You guys are no fun. Sebastian?” Brad turns to his fellow engaged bandmate for help.

  “Yeah, no. If I even thought about any other women chest pounding, she could hear it from 10 thousand miles away, I’m sure of it,” he cringes.

  “Fine.” Brad says, sulking, mumbling into his beer.

  I giggle and sneak a peek at Marius over the rim of my beer glass. He’s looking at his phone, absentmindedly scratching his stomach and I can’t help but think, what it would feel like, to be pressed up against him, his chest crushing mine, my hands scratching down his back.

  I shake my head, but the images stick.

  “Hailey? I’m going to need more beer.”

  ***

  “G’night guys!!” I wave to the others as we stumble down the hotel hallway, stopping off at our respective rooms. “Thanks for the hangover!”

  “No problem, babe! All thanks to Brad’s credit card!” Emily giggles drunkenly and blows me a kiss. She had joined us after posting her article to her editor. And made a worthy female ally in terms of keeping the guys in their places.

  “Ugh, I was wondering where that went. Come now, me Brad, you naughty drunken woman,” Brad mumbles as he lifts his fiancée over his shoulder and carries her like a caveman back to their room.

  “Dum dum dum dum,” I hum slightly out of tune under my breath as I fumble with my key card. “Ooopsidaisy,” I giggle when I drop it, and stare at it on the floor, trying to figure out how to get it back in my hands.

  “Geez, here!” Jez comes up, picking it off the ground and sticking
it in the slot. “Get in there,” he says, pushing me through the door and sitting me down on the bed. “You okay? You shouldn’t have drunk so much.”

  “Ugh, didn’t I already say goodnight to you?” I say, trying to kick my shoes off.

  “Yeah, that was before you couldn’t figure out how knees work.”

  “Well, thank you for my biology lesson, you can go now. Anca go night-night.”

  “No, Anca go tell Jez what happened tonight-night.”

  “You talk funny.”

  “Anca.”

  “Ugh, what?”

  “What happened on stage? Did you have another… um, thing.”

  “Thing?”

  “I don’t know what to call it. You know, panic thing. Because of the…”

  I hold my hand up against his face. Don’t say, it Jez. Don’t say his name. Not today, don’t ruin my mood. “I’m fine. Just a little hiccup.” And right on cue, I hiccup.

  “Why didn’t you take a sedative, I thought those were working for you?”

  “I did and they are or were. I dunno, I think it’s just ‘cos it’s a bigger crowd than I’ve ever been used to. Anyway, Marius is going to help me.”

  “Help you with what?”

  “My stage fright, he helped me tonight on stage. And he said he’s going to help me get over it. He said he used to have it.”

  “Yeah, he did. Oh god, the vomit.”

  “Ew, vomit.”

  “Yeah, big ew. Did you… does he know everything?”

  “There’s nothing to know, Jezzy. Remember? It’s all over.” I feel myself tip over, and I cuddle up with a pillow. In the fuzzy background, I hear Jez sigh and feel him gently pull my shoes off.

  “I don’t know if this was a good idea, Anca.”

  “It was. Thank you. I had a wonderful night. My big brother.” I sigh and a blanket is pulled over me.

  “Okay, then. Good night, baby girl. You did good tonight.” He whispers and kisses me gently on the forehead.

  “Marius is nice, isn’t he?” I say, slowly feeling my body grow heavy and light at once as I fight sleep.