Is she taking care of herself? Maybe it’s just from traveling. Or maybe she’s getting caught in the same trap she was in before, where she’s running herself into the ground. I know her mom’s not in charge of her schedule anymore, but if that’s the way she’s always done things, it would be easy to fall back into that mode of operation.
Which makes me want to take care of her. Be there for her. Be with her. Because she needs someone who’s not on her payroll to make sure she eats and sleeps and stays healthy.
Apparently I’ve just appointed myself to that position.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ritornello: a recurring passage for orchestra in the first or final movement of a solo concerto or aria (also in works for chorus)
Charlie
Waking up in Damian’s arms again is bliss. Unfortunately, it can’t last. It’s early enough that I should be able to dart back to my room without being seen. And since the show is tonight, if someone does spot me and word gets out, it’s not as big of a deal now.
I carefully extricate myself from under Damian’s arm, biting back a groan at the loss of his warmth. After using the bathroom, I plan to give him a soft kiss, but he’s stretching and blinking at me when I come back into the room.
“Hey. What are you doing?” He props himself up on his elbows and puts on his glasses, wisps of hair sticking out on the side of his head where it escaped from his ponytail in his sleep.
I smile. He’s so adorable, I can’t help it. Leaning a knee on the bed, I give him the soft kiss I’d already planned, but pull back before he can do more than rest his hand on my waist. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I hold myself back when he exerts gentle pressure, trying to bring me in for another kiss.
“I’ve got to get back to my room. Busy day today.”
He drops his hand. “Right. Of course. The show.”
With a nod, I stand up, running my hands through my hair and pulling my hat back on. We slept in our clothes, so I’m still dressed. “Yeah. I’ve got to meet with Natalie over breakfast and finalize things. Then we’ll be at the venue to make sure it’s all set. I want to check the piano, too. Even though this isn’t a big performance with lots of costume and set changes, I still need hair and makeup and all that jazz.”
He grins when I hold my hands out, fingers spread, making jazz hands. I smile back, happy that my attempt to lighten his mood seemed to work. After our conversation last night, and then falling asleep with him, I’m still not certain where we stand. He’s still so ready to think I just want to throw us away, despite the fact that I was never the one who wanted that.
But I squash down that line of thinking. If I follow it to its inevitable conclusion, I’ll just be mad and hurt all over again, and if I want him to move on, accept me and my life for what it is, then I need to do the same. Not hold past mistakes against him. With one last smile, I head back to my room, darting down the hall.
A door opens and closes behind me, but I don’t turn, so I don’t know if they pay me any attention or not. Probably not.
The day passes in a blur, filled with all the things I told Damian about and then some. And the venue is packed by the end. A cute little theatre with painted ceilings and a proscenium stage, framed with giltwork and complete with a red velvet curtain.
As usual, I play a mix of old favorites and new songs. The ballad gets me a standing ovation. Everyone has been responding to the new songs. There were even people singing along with the chorus of the song I debuted in Spokane, which means people are finding bootlegged YouTube videos of these concerts and watching them enough to learn the lyrics.
I love my fans. And I tell them so from the stage, the bright lights shining in my eyes making it hard to see, but their energy a palpable thing. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice!”
Their screams fill the auditorium.
“I love you guys so much. Your support means the world to me. It’s because of you that I get to do what I love the most.” More applause, whistles, and catcalls. “Seriously. I’ve always maintained I have the best fans in the world. And every one of these pop-up shows proves me right.”
At the end of the show they’re screaming for encores, so I play the one song left in my pocket. My throat is raw from singing, my voice getting rougher, but this was one of my first hits, so I can sing it on autopilot, doing the dance number by myself since there are no backup dancers for these little shows.
But I don’t need that. Everyone sings along, their collective voices almost louder than mine. And when I hold the mic out to them, they sing even louder.
With my final bows complete, dripping in sweat, I jog to the little dressing room backstage where Natalie brings me room temperature water and a towel.
“You were amazing as always.” She beams her bright smile at me as she sets a second bottle of water on the table next to me. “I’ll go get Damian and Lauren and bring them back. Then we’ll get all three of you some food.”
I pause in gulping my water. “You’re awesome, Natalie. Thank you so much. I’m starving.”
With a wave, she disappears, letting the door shut behind her, leaving me in relative silence for the first time in hours. I finish the bottle of water and take several deep breaths, recentering myself after the show, letting the adrenaline dissipate from my bloodstream.
A great show is invigorating but exhausting. I’m still amped up right now, but I’ll crash hard in an hour or two. The nice thing about these quick little shows is that there’s not a big crew, no scheduled meet and greets, and no expectation of any kind of afterparty.
After a snack, I’ll go out and sign some autographs and snap a few selfies with the fans that hang around and wait for that. There’s a table set up in the lobby for it, so I know there’ll be a crowd when I go out. But for now, I’m relishing the quiet.
Minutes later as I sip my second bottle of water, the door bursts open, admitting sound in the form of Lauren, Damian, and Natalie. The sound, of course, is Lauren, who throws her arms wide, her face a picture of excitement. “Oh my God, Charlie! That was even more amazing than the show in Spokane!” She flops onto the couch and gives me an enthusiastic hug, almost making me spill my water. Laughing, I return her hug with one arm.
She pulls back, her hands gripping my upper arms. “And that ballad. Oh my God. That was just so … I don’t even know how to describe it.”
“It was beautiful, Charlie.” Damian’s voice, low and sincere, such a contrast to Lauren’s exuberance, draws my attention to where he stands in the corner, his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you. Sit down. Natalie’s going to get us something to eat. She found a great sandwich place this afternoon and had food delivered earlier.”
Just then, Natalie slips back into the room, a small cooler in one hand, and paper plates and napkins in the other. “Here you go.” She passes out the plates and napkins, then opens the cooler and rattles off the sandwich options.
After we all claim what we want, Damian and Natalie taking the folding chairs across the coffee table, I rip open the wrapper and take a big bite. At first I assume the silence is because we’re all digging into our food, but when I look up, I see Lauren and Damian staring at me, their sandwiches untouched.
Natalie giggles, covering her mouth with her hand as she talks with her mouth full. “Don’t mind Charlie, guys. She’s always ravenous after a show.”
Lauren seems to unfreeze at Natalie’s reassurance and takes a bite of her own sandwich, still eyeing me as she chews. “Holy crap, woman. I lived with you for months. I know you can eat, but damn. I’ve never seen you attack food like that.”
Grinning around another bite of sandwich, I shrug, chew, and swallow. “Natalie’s right. Shows make me hungry.”
“Good. Then you should eat,” Damian puts in. “Just don’t, y’know, forget to chew and stuff. I don’t want to give you the Heimlich.”
“No, you’d prefer to give her mouth-to-mouth,” Lauren mutters into her sandwich nex
t to me.
When I jab her with my elbow, she gives me a wide-eyed look. “What? You know it’s true. Don’t even try to deny it. I know what I saw yesterday.”
A glance at Damian reveals that his ears are pink, and he’s very interested in his sandwich.
Natalie’s eyes dart between each of us in turn. Then she clears her throat and stands, wrapping up her sandwich. “Um, I just realized, I need to go, uh, check on … that thing. Remember?”
Before anyone can say anything, she darts out of the room, the door closing hard behind her.
There’s a moment of silence, and then Lauren bursts out laughing.
Damian tosses a wadded up napkin at her head, but I can tell he’s fighting a grin. “Nice going. You scared off Natalie.”
Waving a hand in front of her, Lauren shakes her head. “Man, if that’s all it takes,” she splutters out, “then she needs to stay far away from me. I didn’t even say anything scandalous.”
Damian’s reluctant grin overtakes his face as he looks at me, and I smile back.
“See?” Lauren exclaims. “This! This is exactly what I’m talking about. You guys are going all googly-eyed over each other. Will you please just admit that you’re seeing each other again?”
I shift in my seat, glancing at Damian. Lauren whips her head back and forth between us. “What? Is that supposed to be a secret? You’re both shit at hiding things, you know that, right?”
“Hey! I successfully hid my identity for over three months!”
Lauren snorts. “Right. And the minute someone thought they recognized you, you gave it all away in a second.” She shakes her head, then looks between us again. “And I know how to read you both.” Her finger wiggles in the air. “You might be able to fool other people, but not me. But if you don’t want to talk about it, then I’ll mind my own business.”
“Ha,” Damian says. “When have you ever minded your own business, Lauren?”
She sticks her tongue out at him and throws his napkin back, and we all laugh, any lingering awkwardness successfully dispelled.
I don’t really want to go meet my fans. I’d rather hang out with my friends. Or my friend and my maybe-boyfriend. But duty calls.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rinforzando: reinforced or emphasized, sometimes like a sudden crescendo, but often only applied to one note
Damian
“I should let you go. It’s getting late.”
Charlie makes a little whining sound over the phone that has me smiling. “I’m not ready to go to bed yet, though.”
Adjusting my pillow behind me in bed, I prop my head on my free hand as I chuckle. “You were just telling me how tired you are a few minutes ago.”
She huffs. “That’s different. I had a long day writing and recording and listening to The Professor putting it all together. My brain is tired, but I’m still wired from all the work and how the new singles are sounding.”
“Okay.” My mouth is turned up in a permanent smile at her pouty, whiny, huffiness. Since we saw each other last week in Boise, I’ve been making more of an effort to not keep her on the phone too late. “I get that. But you need your rest, and I don’t want to be the reason you’re too tired to perform or end up getting sick because you’re not getting enough sleep.”
Another huff, and I can practically hear her eye roll. “Thanks, Dad. I’m pretty sure I can manage my own bedtime.”
“Are you sure? Because you seemed exhausted when I saw you.” Even though I’m still smiling and make an effort to keep my voice light, she doesn’t seem to react well to my pushing.
Actually, she doesn’t say anything at all for a long moment. I pull the phone away from my ear to make sure the call didn’t drop unexpectedly.
I open my mouth to apologize, to take back what I said, but before I can she finally speaks. “I didn’t call you for a lecture about my sleep schedule. I’m perfectly capable of managing myself, thanks.”
“I know. You are. I’m sorry.” I swallow, waiting for her to say something. When she doesn’t, I add, “I just care about you. And I want you to take care of yourself, that’s all.”
She clears her throat. “Yeah. I …” She sighs. “It’s okay. And you’re right. I probably should go and relax a bit before I get ready for bed. It’s just …”
Her sentence dangles, unfinished.
“It’s just what?”
The sound of another burst of air travels over the phone. “I miss you. I miss having … people to hang out with. Here, I’m alone once I get home after a long day of work. Sometimes it’s nice. Sometimes I like having the space. But on nights like tonight, I’m restless and wired even though I’m drained, and it’s nice to have someone to at least talk to while I come down.”
At first I don’t know what to say to that, and I’m not sure if her “I miss you” means me specifically, or just that she misses having friends around. Not that it matters. Because she’s talking to me, not Lauren or Gabby or anyone else, so I’m going to assume she means me.
“Yeah. I get that. I have days like that too.”
“See? And even if you have to get up early for a class or you ought to write a paper or whatever, you just can’t do it, and you need a person and to decompress. That’s where I am right now.”
“Then decompress with me. I’ll be whatever you need.”
Her breath hitches. “Careful, Damian. I might just hold you to that.”
Carla grips my arm for the millionth time as we find our seats in the little theatre where Charlie’s performing in Seattle.
“Oh my God!” she whisper-shrieks by my ear. “This is the coolest thing ever!” She’s said that about a million times too. Sometimes in full voice, sometimes in a regular whisper, but mostly in that whisper-shriek she’s perfected. It’s this high pitched almost squeal, but not given full voice.
I’ll take whisper-shrieking over full-on-Carla-shrieking any day, though. Grinning at her, I pat her hand, then pry her fingernails from my skin. “Be sure to tell Charlie how excited you are. When she found out you wanted to come to a show, she scheduled this one and insisted on getting us tickets to fly over for the weekend.”
Carla throws her arms around my neck and gives me a tight squeeze. Chuckling, I pat her on the back.
When she lets me go, the smile that’s been on her face since we boarded the plane a few hours ago remains undimmed. “Have I told you that you’re the awesomest brother in the whole world? And while I’ll always have your back, I’m officially completely on board with you and Charlie getting back together?”
Chuckling, I straighten my shirt and get comfortable in my seat, glancing at Carla out of the corner of my eye. “Thanks. I appreciate the support.”
She wiggles in her seat. “Anytime.” Her hand grips my arm again. “I’m just so excited to be here. And we got to meet her!”
The whisper-shrieking is back, and I chuckle. Charlie had us get here early enough so we could come back to her dressing room and say hi before the show. I’d felt bad, since I know I like to have as few distractions as possible before performing, but I guess Charlie doesn’t have that problem.
Carla was awe-struck, which was funny because it’s not like she hasn’t met Charlie before.
But Charlie’s natural charm took over, and Carla relaxed enough to answer the questions Charlie asked about school, the second half of her senior year, and her plans for next year. Natalie came and shooed us away after only a few minutes, but we’ll be meeting up in Charlie’s dressing room again after the show.
The lights dim, and a hush falls over the crowd, quickly giving way to applause and screams of excitement as Charlie walks on stage in a simple pink dress edged in something sparkly that shimmers under the follow spot. She beams at the audience, holding her mic at her side, blowing kisses to her fans, and waiting for them to calm down enough to hear her speak.
“Thank you so much for coming!” It’s a variation of the same speech she gave in Boise. If I had to guess, I’d bet
she says more or less the same thing every show. But she’s as sincere today as she was a few weeks ago.
I’m mesmerized as she performs. A lot of the songs are the same. Ones I dismissed when I heard them on the radio, smirking at Carla when I was in high school and she’d play these same songs nonstop. Because my music was better.
God, I feel like the worst kind of snob.
Because watching Charlie perform is a revelation. She’s everything I was initially attracted to about her dialed up several notches. She’s pretty and charming and funny. She’s enthralling.
All these people dropped whatever plans they had already just to show up here and watch her perform with only a few hours’ notice. Her scheduled tours sell out arenas night after night. She has more number one hits than I even know.
And I smirked and looked down my nose at this.
When Gabby dropped out of school to go on tour with her boyfriend, I thought she’d lost her mind. Sure, I’d acted supportive, especially when Lauren was in earshot. She made me watch one of the videos of them performing together, and I had to admit that I could see the appeal for Gabby of writing and playing something she wrote. Her additions to the songs elevated them, in my opinion, made them more than just … pop songs.
But I didn’t really get it. I didn’t understand what it meant for Charlie to be a performer until I actually watched her perform.
She’s transcendent.
Entranced, I fall deeper and harder for her.
I draw in a shaky breath as I acknowledge that reality to myself. Not like I didn’t know I’ve been in love with her all along. Never stopped.
Counterpoint and Harmony Page 13