Breathe

by Jessica Phoenix

  “Can we do this some other time? I’m really not in the mood for this shit,” I tell him before he can open his mouth.

  “Well get in the mood,” he says firmly.

  I turn to look him in the face. “Fine. Your funeral,” I say opening the door and motioning for him to enter. He scoffs as he walks by me, mumbling something about my nerve.

  Once inside, I take a seat on the couch, and he does the same, but wisely on the opposite side.

  “What the hell man? I ask for your help to find my little sister, and you decide to bang her instead?” He doesn’t hesitate to say.

  “Watch your mouth,” I warn him.

  “Then explain this because I don’t understand it. You know how badly I’ve wanted to find Georgie and you kept her from me. How could do that? We were supposed to be friends.”

  “Look. I met Gia, she hates being called Georgie by the way, before I knew she was your sister. I met her the night I went looking for that girl Sophie your contact told you about. It turns out she did actually know her, just not as Georgia, but Gia. She was her roommate. The name is why we kept coming up empty. I still don’t know how your contact knew it was her. Everybody other than…” my thoughts trail off. Trish

  I shake the thought off to finish what I have to say. The sooner we’re done here, the sooner he can leave. “Anyway, Gia happened to be there. I would not have suspected her to be your sister even if I had been looking for her that night. Which I wasn’t. I didn’t piece it all together until a few weeks ago. By that time, we were already dating.”

  He nods his head seeming to accept what I’m telling him as the truth.

  “Then why wouldn’t you tell me as soon as you knew?”

  “I almost did. I literally had the phone in my hand ready to call you the second I figured it out. I think I even had dialed you. But then I remembered she had run from something. Her eyes… are so haunted, Kyle. She was so bitter about her past. She doesn’t like to talk about it. And you weren’t exactly forthcoming, were you?”

  He cuts his eyes to the floor because he knows I’m right.

  “So I decided to wait to tell you and made the trip to Hamilton. Lovely place by the way,” I offer sarcastically. “Anyway, I met your creep of an uncle, and he verified that she was your definitely your sister, along with some other despicable things. So after I rearranged his face, I flew home to talk to Gia, and she told me everything.

  “Kyle…you guys were…look at you right now? I could kill you for hurting her the way you did. For allowing her to be…” my words trail off and my head falls forward, unable to finish my sentence.

  When I look up, I see his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’ve known her for like two seconds, and you think you’re the authority on her? That you had the right to keep her from me? She’s my sister!”

  “Two seconds is all it took for me to decide I’d do anything for her so yeah. I know her a hell lot better than you do. Where the hell were you when she needed you? Why wouldn’t you tell me the truth about all this from the beginning?”

  He angrily wipes his eyes with his hand. “I just…I thought that if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t help me. Tell me to let her be. But I couldn’t. I had to make sure she was okay. I needed to find her so I could apologize face to face. Beg her for forgiveness. I wanted to show her I’ve changed.” He pauses to collect himself.

  “She’s my sister, and I helped torture her daily for years. And when she needed me the most, I just walked away while that bastard…” his sobs grow louder stirring my own emotion thinking about what Gia went through. He clears his throat trying to regain some modicum of composure.

  “I failed her in the worst way, and it’s my life’s regret. I should have done something. I have to make it right. I look at my daughter and…” He’s not completing sentences at this point, and everything else he says beyond that is a jumbled mess of incoherent words.

  I wait as he thoroughly breaks down in a way I’ve never witnessed from another man.

  “What if she never forgives me?” he asks quietly, when he’s able to speak again.

  I run my hands through my hair contemplating the same thing except for myself. I couldn’t blame her if she never forgave either of us. “I don’t know.”

  He tries to pull himself together the best he can, straightening up in his seat smoothing out his jeans.

  “So…You really like her?” he asks.

  “No. I really love her,” I tell him.

  “I know I don’t have the right to involve myself in her affairs, but I’m begging you. Don’t hurt her. Please. She’s had enough hurt to last multiple lifetimes.”

  “That’s the last thing I want to do. I just want to make her happy. I just need her to forgive me first,” I say the last part mostly to myself.

  Kyle leaves soon after our conversation. There’s not a whole lot either of us have left to say to each other, and neither of us is the other’s favorite person at the moment. I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

  I pace the living room over and over, damn near burning a hole in the carpet before I decide to take a shower and try to sleep. It’s the only thing I know to do right now because the waking hours without Gia are already too unbearable.

  Chapter 19

  Gia

  It’s only been three weeks since the madness went down. It feels like three years without Nate.

  I haven’t seen Kyle and still have no plans to. I haven’t spoken to Trish or Nathan either. They both call though…incessantly. Nathan more so than Trish. I’m not even really mad at Trish anymore. I just need a second to breathe. There’s never a moment in my life to just breathe.

  My only friends right now are Quinn and Darryl. Quinn is debatable at this point though. She says that if she has to listen to Brandy and Wanya’s ‘Brokenhearted’ one more time, she’s going to slit her wrists. A little dramatic to me but whatever.

  I got a new job now. The customer that heard me sing in the music store a few weeks back is a guitarist for the house band at Ralph’s, which is the jazz club Sam found me at years ago.

  Pete stopped by Darryl’s one day and asked if I’d be interested in singing with their band a couple of nights a week. I’m not big on singing in the public, but he said I could play the piano too. That did interest me. So I started that same night. Pay sucks, but the tips make up for it.

  When I play, I imagine Sam watching me the way I did him many nights, and smiling down on me. I’d give anything to have him here now.

  I’m sitting at the kitchen counter resting my head on it, twirling the paper with the info for my supposed father in front of me.

  “Gah! Call the number already! You’re going to drive yourself, and me, crazy staring at that thing,” Quinn fusses. I roll my eyes at her, but she’s right. I’ve wanted this for years. I need to know if this is in fact, my dad.

  Before I can chicken out, I quickly dial the number. It rings several times before anyone picks up. When they finally do it’s a receptionist. “Triple Threat Entertainment how may I direct your call?”

  “Um…hi…May I please speak to Noah Evans,” I timidly ask.

  “Are you an artist?”

  “No. I’m not. I’m just trying to meet with him,” I say wincing. There’s no way she’s just going to put some random girl through to her boss.

  She offers a sarcastic laugh. “Oh really? Well the only way you get in front of Mr. Evans is by preapproved appointments or at the monthly open auditions. But if you’re not an artist, I can’t help-”

  “I am! A musician I mean. I’m a piano player,” I spew out quickly before she can hang up on me.

  “Okay, so do you want an audition or not?”

  Bitch.

  “Yes. Yes, I do. When are the next auditions?” I ask.

  “Tomorrow. How’s two o’clock?”

  “Tomorrow?” I ask dumbfounded.

  So soon?

  “That’s what
I said. What’s your name hon?” she asks with obvious irritation.

  “Um, Gia Davis,” I stammer.

  “Okay Miss Davis. I have you down. See you tomorrow at two. There’s a piano in the studio, so just bring yourself.”

  “Oh…Okay. Thank you.”

  I hang up in near shock. I might meet my father tomorrow. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he turns me away? What if he doesn’t want me?

  My mind is on overdrive with an all too familiar feeling of inadequacy and self-doubt when Quinn’s voice interrupts my inner thoughts. “Since when do you play the piano?”

  I laugh and drop my head shaking it, ignoring her question as I process all this.

  Tomorrow, I might be face to face with my father…who doesn’t even know I exist.

  I arrive fifteen minutes early to the “audition” where I’m about to meet Noah Evans. Super producer, business tycoon, and allegedly…my father.

  I recognize the voice of the same snarky receptionist from the phone yesterday. She walks out from behind the desk approaching me but doesn’t stop.

  “Follow me,” she says barely glancing over her shoulder at me. I do as she says.

  When I catch up, she looks over at me looking me up and down. So I do the same to her.

  “Hmm. You don’t look much like a piano player,” she states dryly.

  “What does a piano player typically look like,” I ask humoring her.

  “Old as hell, fat or have braids like Alicia Keys.”

  “Really?” That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t,” I tell her, but she just rolls her eyes.

  She opens the door to an empty studio and motions for me to enter. “Mr. Evans will be right with you. Best of luck…I’m sure you’ll need it.”

  Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes as I walk in. I immediately spot a black Bosendorfer Grand piano sitting in the middle of the room. I’m drawn to it like a moth to a flame. My hand runs along the sleek black finish, and my smile is so big that my face hurts.

  I know I’m not really here for an audition, but my fingers are itching to tinker with this beauty.

  “She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” someone says echoing my thoughts. “We don’t get too many piano players in here these days. I hope you can really play that thing.”

  I look up, and Mr. Noah Evans himself enters the room. My brain freezes, seeming to forget how to perform the most basic human function.

  Breathe.

  I have to remind myself to take a breath before I pass out.

  He’s looking down at his phone screen and is accompanied by a small entourage of seven other people.

  He’s a handsome man — about six foot tall, chiseled features. Beautiful bronze skin. He’s dressed in black slacks and light blue dress shirt with no tie. His left wrist is adorned with a timepiece that probably cost more than a small house.

  When he finally looks up, he does a double take. His eyes taking in my face, looking at me like he sees a ghost.

  I thought Kyle said he didn’t know about me…Maybe he lied.

  “What’s your name, Miss?” he asks curiously with squinted eyes.

  “Um, Gia…My name’s Gia.” I swallow the nervous knot stuck in my throat, while internally panicking now that he’s in front of me.

  He continues to take me in, eventually snapping out of whatever his thoughts were. “Okay, so what are you playing for us, Miss Gia?”

  Oh crap. I wasn’t planning to actually audition. But I don’t want to have this conversation in front of all these people. I’m going to have to play. Think Gia. Think!

  A small smile plays on my lips when I think of the first time I saw Sam perform. “How about ‘Higher Ground’ by Stevie Wonder?”

  “Alright now, Miss Gia. I’m a big Stevie fan, so that’s a tall order. You got some vocals to accompany this arrangement?” he asks skeptically. Not many record labels hold open auditions regularly if any at all. I’m sure they get a ton of karaoke singers and amateur musicians in here, but I’ve learned from the best.

  Darryl is a master musician, playing every instrument ever created. Sam was a piano genius and local jazz-funk legend, and my voice is God given. Even though I’m not really here for this, I figure why not show out just a bit? Plus I desperately want to play that piano.

  With unusual cockiness, I offer him a smirk as I take a seat at the piano. Cracking my knuckles, I smile and say, “Hang on boys.”

  He smirks back sitting at attention. And boy it’s their attention I command. It’s Stevie Wonder’s ‘Higher Ground’ I’m performing, but I put that Sam Harris swagger on it that only he could, but I try my best to imitate.

  Every person in the studio is clapping, dancing, and singing along just the way they’d do when Sam dominated the keys. I do my best to make my mentor proud. If I do say so myself, I think I did.

  When I finish, everyone claps and whistles. Mr. Evans is smiling and nodding. One thing’s for sure, after I tell him what I came to tell him, even if he doesn’t accept me, after that performance, he’ll never be able to forget me.

  “Damn girl, you got some talent!” one of the gentlemen says.

  “Thank you,” I say blushing, my shyness coming back with a vengeance.

  “No way,” Noah says eyeing me thoughtfully. “Talents can be learned. She’s gifted. That’s pure heart and soul right there. The kind you’re born with. It’s in her blood.” The small group chatters in agreeance with that statement.

  “You remind me of an old jazz pianist I used to go watch back in the day.” He snaps his fingers like he’s trying to remember. “He used to play at a club downtown.”

  “Ralph’s,” I say confidently knowing there’s only one person he could be referring to.

  “Yeah!” he exclaims. “His name was…”

  “Sam Harris,” we say in unison.

  His eyes widen with surprise. “You a little young to have been on the scene when Sam was king. How you learn about him?” he asks curiously.

  I smile, reminiscing of my short time with my old friend. “He’s actually the one who taught me to play.”

  “Get the hell out of here! No joke?” he asks enthusiastically.

  “No joke. He was my teacher. More like my savior, up until he passed.” It still makes me emotional to think about his death. Sam lived a long wonderful life though. When he found out he was sick, he’d always say he was leaving this earth with no regrets. That gave me some peace. It also made me hope that when it’s my time to go one day, I could say the same.

  “Wow. That’s incredible. Sam Harris’ protégé,” he goes on in awe.

  “Yeah. He was an amazing mentor. Now, I sort of study with Darryl Jones,” I tell him.

  “Another great multi-faceted musician. I know his work well.” Silence falls on the room as everyone awaits the outcome of the “audition”.

  Noah keeps giving me this look. Almost like he’s intrigued yet also frightened by me.

  He rubs his chin thoughtfully between his thumb and index finger. I guess whatever he had been thinking got the best of him because he finally asks, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  Damn. I really didn’t want to do this in front of all these people. Since they don’t seem to be going anywhere…

  “No, you don’t know me at all…but you knew my mother once. Lynn Davis.”

  Gasps ensue from several of the group, almost certainly rightly drawing the implied conclusion as to why I’m here.

  His expression is giving nothing away as he stares at me unmoving for what feels like forever before he finally announces, “I need the room.” He snaps his fingers, and everyone quickly scurries out, and whispers ensue.

  He sits on the barstool next to the piano, and I turn to face him on the bench prepared for whatever the outcome of this meeting will be.

  “You’re really Lynn’s baby girl?” he fi
nally asks.

  “I don’t know about all that, but she gave birth to me.”

  “I haven’t seen her in many, many years. How she been?” He politely asks. I doubt he actually cares. I know I don’t.

  “I wouldn’t know, but if I had to guess I’d say drunk.” He laughs a little at that. Oddly enough, so do I.

  His eyes keep roaming over my face like he’s piecing together a puzzle. “I assume you’re not really here for an audition?”