Sway

by Melanie Stanford

  She raised herself up off the couch. “Maybe I will,” she said, brightening. “I need a new pair of sandals anyway. I’m starving though, I need to eat first.”

  Mari bounded from the couch and left the room without a hint of shuffling. Just like that, she was cured. But then, I had a knack for it.

  * * * * *

  Cinnamon, the boutique where Lacey worked, was wedged in a strip mall across the street from the beach. I had to park a couple of miles away, but Mari and I had fun checking out the shops and catching up on each other’s lives. By the time we walked into Lacey’s store, Mari had lost all traces of her “sickness”.

  Lacey stood behind the counter, ringing up a customer. “Hey, Mar.” She did a double-take when she saw me. “Ava?” I smiled and waved. “Give me a sec, okay?”

  I strolled through the racks, my eye catching on a pale pink blouse. It would be perfect for a job interview. I grabbed a size small.

  “Ava,” Mari called. “Check these out.”

  Mari wobbled past me on a pair of towering platforms. “What do you think?”

  “I think those are Lady Gaga shoes.” She spun to face me and almost toppled over. “Besides, didn’t you need sandals?”

  Lacey joined us, her customer toting at least six bags past us out of the store.

  Mari’s mouth gaped open. “Wait. Was that—?”

  Lacey grinned. “Yep!” She turned to me. “We get tons of celebrities in here. It’s the best job ever.” Mari stared after the so-called celebrity, a woman I didn’t recognize.

  “How are things?” I asked Lacey.

  “Oh, you know, same old.” She shrugged. “Chris Evans hasn’t asked me to marry him yet. Leaves me something to live for.”

  I laughed. “Well, you look great. If he walked in here, I bet he’d propose on the spot. Or at least ask you out.”

  “Guess I just need to get him in here, then.” Lacey towered over me, but that was due mostly to her six-inch stilettos. Her hair fell in perfect blonde waves, she had a nose that could only be described as button-cute, and she was California skinny with a chest that looked enhanced but actually wasn’t. Any man would drool over her. Despite all that, she had an innocence about her that caused even the slightest twinges of female jealousy to run screaming. I could sooner hate a puppy.

  “Mari, you cannot buy those shoes,” Lacey said. “I forbid it.” Mari scowled but sat down to undo them. Lacey scanned the shelves, finally grabbing a pair of polka-dot wedges and handing them to my sister. “How long are you here for?”

  “What?” I stopped mouthing the words to the Taylor Swift song playing over the sound system. Lacey repeated her question. “Oh, I’m back for good.”

  “That’s great!” She glanced at the blouse in my hand. “I’ve got the perfect skirt to go with that.”

  I followed her through the store. “I’m actually staying with you guys for a bit, I hope that’s okay.”

  “No prob.” She held up a silver sequined mini. Not really my style. Lacey must have seen it on my face because she said, “Come on, just try it.”

  I shrugged and took the skirt from her. Why not?

  “You’re so tiny, Ava, you really should play that to your advantage. Here, try this.” I followed Lacey through the store, and the two items of clothing in my hand soon became ten, then twenty. Lacey didn’t stop chattering as she kept handing me different pieces to try on. “Are you still into the whole piano thing?”

  What a way to sum up my life’s passion, like I was collecting Pokémon or something. “I’m performing with the California Philharmonic this summer.”

  “Wow! That’s awesome.” Lacey looked impressed. “No breaks for you, huh? Straight from Juilliard to the Philharmonica.”

  I pressed my lips together and didn’t correct her. Little did she know that performing a handful of times for an orchestra was considered taking a break in my world.

  “As if Ava wants a break,” Mari said, giving the wedges a test drive. “I don’t know how you don’t get sick of it.”

  Getting sick of the piano was unthinkable. Music was the blood in my veins. Ever since Mom signed me up for my first lesson, my fingers tingled with songs unplayed. Later, when she died, it became an obsession. A release and a comfort. It was my connection to her, if only a thin one.

  “I wish I was that good at something,” Lacey said with a wistful sigh. “Although I think I would have gone more the popstar route. Like Katy Perry.”

  As if it was that easy. She started singing “California Girls” while doing a weird dance. Mari and I burst out laughing. A couple of girls walked into the store but Lacey didn’t stop.

  “Where did you learn those moves?” Mari asked in between peals of laughter. “That’s not what she does in the music video, is it?”

  Lacey continued to dance, her hips and hands shaking together. “Just Dance! You know, the game?” When she caught sight of Mari’s face, she finally quit her routine and went to help her new customers.

  An hour later, Lacey was ringing me up while I cringed at the mounting cost. I would have to avoid my mail for a long while. Lacey had excellent taste; almost everything she had chosen looked amazing on me. Narrowing down my choices proved very difficult.

  When Lacey quoted the price, I frowned. “That can’t be right? I was watching the totals add up and it was almost double that.”

  “Employee discount!” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, I give it to Mari all the time.”

  “Are you sure?” I didn’t want her to get in trouble.

  She waved away my concern. “Of course. You’re practically my sister.”

  With “California Girls” stuck in my head, and a smile over my lips, I left the store, knowing I had made the right choice. Staying with Mari and Lacey was going to be fun.

  Chapter Eight

  Discordant notes floated through the room, a blend of sounds I’d become so used to it was nothing more than white noise. The orchestra room was half-full, musicians tuning their instruments and warming up. Short bursts of disconnected phrases filled the air, a symphony of mayhem before the magic began.

  I took the empty chair next to Lexi. “I’ve found somewhere to live.”

  Lexi plucked the strings of her violin. “You got an apartment?”

  “No. I’m staying with my sister, Mari, and her family. Temporarily.”

  “Where does she live again?”

  “Laguna Beach.”

  “Awesome. Now I can come over on my days off and tan.” Lexi pulled a binder of sheet music from her bag. “Maybe we can pick up some hot surfers while we’re at it.”

  My eyes caught on a woman carrying a blinged-out cello case. Kaz would have hated it. My thoughts turned to his silky black hair and slim fingers. I wondered what he was doing right then.

  “Does your sister have any hot neighbors?” Lexi asked.

  “No idea.”

  “Geez, Ava, priorities. You’re so oblivious.” Lexi set her violin on her knee and looked at me. “I have a hard time getting dates because I’m working all the time, and when I’m not, I have a tiny two-year-old attached to my hip. What’s your excuse?”

  I shrugged. “No time?”

  “Nope.”

  “Too old?”

  “Try again.”

  “Every guy in California is either shallow, fake or only interested in girls with gigantic boobs?”

  Lexi hesitated. “I almost want to agree with you on that one, but it’s actually not true.” She motioned her head to the girl with the cello case encrusted with diamonds. “Even she managed to snag someone.”

  “Who is that?” I asked. Those couldn’t possibly be real diamonds, could they?

  “Helena Somerville. She’s dating some millionaire entrepreneur.” Lexi made a gagging sound.

  We stared at
Helena. She was tall, thin and perfect in all her Prada-clad splendor.

  “I think she drugged the guy,” Lexi said.

  “Why?”

  She arched a brow. “I’ll-make-your-life-Hell-ena? She’s a rotten human being who spews word-vomit every time she opens her mouth.” Helena began to pluck the strings of her cello with perfectly manicured nails. “How else would she land him?”

  Beauty and talent obviously didn’t register to Lexi. “Maybe she used Jedi mind-tricks.”

  Lexi laughed. “Evil faerie magic?”

  “Love potion number nine.”

  We continued to come up with ways that Helena Somerville had duped her millionaire boyfriend into dating her until the violinist who sat next to Lexi appeared, wanting his seat.

  I took my spot at the piano. A few of the musicians approached me and introduced themselves. The rest were too involved with practicing. I eyed Helena Somerville, a frown creasing her forehead as she focused on the sheets of music in front of her. Lexi was just as attractive as Helena, but in a more natural way, with wavy auburn hair and a vintage hourglass figure. Not only that, but she had this spark that hadn’t been killed by what life had dealt her.

  Love had found me twice but it still eluded Lexi. If anyone deserved a handsome, millionaire entrepreneur, it was her.

  Me? I didn’t know if I deserved anyone after what I did to Eric.

  I turned my attention to the music and began to practice. My fingers found the notes easily enough, a song forming beneath my hands. The noises of the other instruments in the room faded into nothingness and it was just me, the piano, and Tchaikovsky.

  In my experience, old, dead composers were a lot easier to deal with than ex-boyfriends.

  * * * * *

  My cell phone rang, waking me bright and early at seven a.m. I squinted at the number then sat bolt upright. Kellynch Mansion was calling me.

  Immediately my heart started to pound. Dad and Beth had moved to Malibu. If the Crofts had a problem, they’d call Dad, not me. I took a deep breath and answered.

  “Hello?” I hated my voice for trembling a little.

  “Is this Ava Elliot?” came a gravelly male voice on the other line.

  I relaxed a little. It wasn’t Eric. “Yes, that’s me.” Not that he would’ve called me anyway, sheesh.

  “Hi, this is Richard Croft calling. Your renter?”

  “Yes, hi,” I said, wondering how he got my number. Then I realized Dad and Beth would never want to deal with the renters. Of course they’d leave it to me to handle such things. “Is everything all right with the house?”

  Richard laughed. “Everything’s more than fine. Kellynch is amazing.”

  At least he appreciated it.

  “Some boxes arrived with your name on them,” Richard continued. “We thought you might want them.”

  “Oh, right.” Finally, the rest of my stuff from New York had arrived. “I can pick them up today if someone will be around?”

  “No hurry. Anytime is fine.”

  “I’m free today so it’s no problem.”

  After agreeing to a time, I hung up the phone. A weird sensation spread through my gut, a mixture of nerves and anxiety. Eric wouldn’t be there, but still, meeting his sister seemed wrong somehow. Like I didn’t have the right after what had happened between us. After I made the biggest mistake of my life.

  Eric had asked me to marry him just a few months after we graduated high school. I knew it was crazy to say yes, but I didn’t hesitate. I loved him more than I’d loved anyone in my entire nineteen years. I couldn’t imagine life without him. Beth mocked me, my friends at school thought I’d been knocked up, but I shook it off. I was in Love.

  It turned out that Love, capital L or not, just wasn’t enough. Dad told me if I married Eric, he would cut me off. I’d have nothing. Eric was used to a life of cramped apartments, coupons and thrift-store clothes, but I wasn’t. It scared me.

  To make it harder, Aunt Rose didn’t approve either. She had been like a mother to me ever since Mom died. When she gave me advice, as in “if you marry that boy you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” it was natural for me to listen.

  I tried not to blame them—I had made the choice after all. But it proved to be the most selfish decision I had ever made.

  * * * * *

  I had gone to his apartment that night, my palms sweaty, jittery with nerves.

  “Hey, babe.” Eric opened the door wide, letting me into his tiny apartment. Back at the keyboard, he picked up a notebook and pencil that lay on the bench before sitting down. He tinkered with the keys, his eyes narrowed and lips pressed together in a way that meant he was deep in musical thought.

  I watched him play for a few minutes, my eyes consuming the familiar contours of his body. It’s not like I was eager to say what I had come to say anyway.

  “What do you think of this?” he asked. I sat down beside him on the bench, just like we used to do in our sophomore music class, his clean smell now mixed with Cool Water cologne. He played a phrase then looked at me expectantly.

  It was so hard not to let him distract me. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

  “You don’t like it?” He played through the phrase again. “I think it sounds okay. Except maybe this chord.”

  “Eric—”

  “What about this?”

  “Better.”

  He leaned over and brushed a kiss over my lips, then made a note on his sheet music.

  “New song?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I had some notes playing through my head last night and I couldn’t shake them. I’ve been working on filling out the rest all day. Listen.”

  I stared at his fingers as they breezed through the notes. The tune was light and airy, exactly the opposite of how I felt.

  “Listen, we need to talk about something.”

  “Sure.” He put the pencil down and faced me. I swallowed. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  He knew me too well. “It’s just… I think maybe we should…” I stumbled over the words. His eyes threatened my resolve. I exhaled and it all came tumbling out. “I don’t think we should get married.”

  He went completely still. My cheeks and neck flushed with warmth as I waited for him to respond.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  I pressed my lips together, tears already brimming in my eyes.

  “Is this about Juilliard?”

  Eric never asked me to defer my acceptance to Juilliard, but I’d done it anyway. His band was here and they had regular gigs around the city. He couldn’t leave LA, but I could go to college anywhere.

  “No. I’ve made my decision about that, you know I have.”

  He leaned back and studied my face. “Then what is it?”

  “We’re both so young and I just…” I couldn’t finish.

  His jaw clenched and unclenched. “You just what?”

  “Dad won’t pay for college if we get married, which means we’ll have to take out loans. Plus we’ll have to pay for housing. I won’t be able to go to school full-time, I’ll have to work too. You’ll be busy getting whatever gigs you can. We’ll never see each other.”

  He stared at me. “I don’t understand. Is this about your dad? Because he doesn’t like me?”

  “I don’t care what my dad thinks about you.”

  “Then it’s about the money.”

  “No… Maybe.”

  He got up from the piano and started to pace. “You’re freaked out, aren’t you? Scared of living in an apartment instead of that mansion you grew up in.” He ran his hands through his hair, making it crazy. “You’re worried you won’t be able to buy designer anymore, is that it?”

  I swiveled on the bench to face him. “You don’t understand. You’ve never had—”

 
He stopped pacing. “What? I never had what?”

  I pressed my lips together. “What if we can’t pay the bills? What if we can’t even afford to live?”

  “I’ll get a job.”

  “What about your music? You can’t put that aside.”

  “I won’t put it aside. Just because I get a day job doesn’t mean I’ll quit singing and writing. Besides, things are going to happen for me, I know it. And I want you by my side when it happens.”

  I softened. “I want to be by your side.”

  Eric brimmed over with confidence; he’d always been like that. But he couldn’t kill my worry. I knew what would happen if he got a day job, how it would slowly destroy him with compromises and long hours.

  “But…”

  His eyes hardened. “But what?”

  “But that doesn’t mean we have to get married. If we just keep dating, my dad won’t—”

  He shook his head. “Yesterday you were fine with getting married. What happened between yesterday to today? What changed?”

  I looked away. “Nothing. I was just talking to—”

  “Aunt Rose.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Aunt Rose told you not to marry me.”

  I opened my mouth then closed it again. I couldn’t deny it. Eric stalked out of the room.

  “Eric, wait.” I followed him into his bedroom. “She’s like a mother to me. I can’t just ignore her advice.”

  “You can if it’s garbage.”

  “She’s just looking out for me.”

  He spun to face me, his eyes flashing. “No, she’s trying to get you away from me. I’m not good enough for her or your dad or even your sisters. They want you to marry someone who wears Armani, drives a Porsche and will cheat on you with the nanny.”

  “I don’t know if I should be insulted by that or not.”

  He sighed loudly and collapsed onto his single bed. His whole body seemed to shrink into the rumpled sheets. “Face it, Ava. I’m a nobody. A struggling musician. I will never be good enough for them. They’ll do anything they can to stop us from being together. You think once they win this they’ll stop? Today they convince you not to marry me, tomorrow they convince you to go out with some friend of the family’s nephew. ‘He’s new in town and just needs someone to show him around.’ Then they invite him over for dinner and the whole time they can’t stop talking about how he’s going places… I just never thought you’d buy into it.”