Shattered Chords (The Encore Book 3)

by N. N. Britt

  “Oh, it’s nothing crazy. Just chicken and broccoli.” Camille smiled softly.” And I use spices instead of salt.”

  “If you insist.” I returned her smile.

  “Awesome.” Ally set her guitar aside. “I’ll go get another plate.” She disappeared down the hallway and into the kitchen, leaving us alone in the room.

  There was a pause that seemed to stretch on and on. Dishes rattled somewhere in the house.

  Camille spoke first. “Was this your plan all along?”

  “Not really.” I met her stare with vengeance. For a second there, our eyes were engaged in a silent battle. Finally, I said, “I can go if you want.”

  “Ally likes you. And as much as I hate the idea of a stranger spending time with her, I do think you can be a positive influence. Just remember, she’s a human being and she won’t forgive you if you break her heart.”

  “I promise I won’t.” I felt the solidity of these words when they left my mouth. I’d never really cared about what people thought of me, but with Camille and her daughter it was different. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to let someone down.

  We ate on the terrace. The heat was still at large, but the sun had dropped low and there was a huge fan plugged in near the table, which made the dinner with the back yard view more than bearable. Pleasant even.

  Ally talked the most. She also asked countless questions, which I didn’t mind answering. The topics we discussed weren’t off-limits. Tour life. Performing in front of large crowds. How to fight stage fright. Nothing my publicist would advise me to keep a secret. Also, I wasn’t Frank. I didn’t carry loads of confidentiality agreements with me just in case.

  Camille hardly participated. She didn’t eat much either. At first, I blamed it on the heat, but then I realized she was perhaps too nervous.

  Ally finished first and rushed inside to text “something important” to her friend named Pauline, who kept coming up in almost every conversation. I remembered her from the show at Valley Club. Short hair, flashy makeup, cut-up clothes. Screaming voice that hadn’t matured yet. She’d sound different in a couple of years. How different? To be determined in the near future.

  Camille and I were alone again, and this time, I felt compelled to make a joke. “So we’re finally having that dinner you’ve been putting off.”

  She gave a little laugh that sounded a lot like a soft whisper in the darkness. “You can claim all you want that this wasn’t the way you planned it. I’ll never believe you.”

  I tossed both hands in the air. “This really wasn’t my intention. I truly enjoy helping Ally and I didn’t expect to be invited. Besides, I’ll never believe that all your dinners are typically pancreas- and kidney-friendly just cuz either.”

  Camille stood up and walked over to the switch on the wall to turn on the lights I helped her untangle last week. The entire back yard instantly changed. Everything glowed and glittered.

  She returned to her chair but didn’t touch the food on her plate. “Do you really think Ally has a chance to have a career in music?”

  “If she continues to work hard.”

  “Every time I try to talk to her about a different major in college, she shuts me down.”

  “If music is all you do, then there’s nothing else out there that’ll make you happy, that’ll make sense.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You disappeared.”

  “I’m here.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You’re no longer performing.”

  “Ah. You keep reading the tabloids.”

  In the house, Ally turned on some music and I could hear the faint drumbeat pounding from far off. So far off, it was hard to tell who the artist was.

  “Not necessarily.” Camille shook her head and rearranged herself in her chair. She looked more at ease now with her hands on the table. The fan slapped wisps of her hair across her flushed face. “It's common knowledge.”

  I’d never spoken to a woman like this before—openly. It seemed only natural to keep the ball rolling. “I’m not ready to go back on stage yet.” Or ever. “I had a cocaine-induced stroke that fried my brain. I don’t trust myself anymore.” It was the most honest thing I’d said out loud this year. My gaze fell to my hands and I slowly turned them over to look at my palms. “These aren’t what they used to be and without them working one hundred percent, I’m not sure who I am.”

  When I glanced up at Camille, our eyes met, and this time, she didn’t challenge me. She simply looked.

  “Rich people problems.” I laughed nervously, mostly at my own sincerity. “Midlife crisis. Call it what you want.”

  “You’re too young to have a midlife crisis.”

  “You mistake me for someone else, darlin’. I’m older than you.”

  “I know how old you are.” There was a hint of a smile on her lips and something in me stirred at this.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  She arched a brow. “That depends on the question.”

  “How come you’re not married, Camille? I don’t mean Ally’s father. I mean, in general. You’re beautiful, smart. You’re a good cook.”

  A blush began to creep up her cheeks. She turned her head slightly and stared past me, somewhere into the distance, trying to school her face back to boredom, but I knew better. My compliments got to her and she was struggling to stay calm.

  “I guess I’ve never put enough effort into a relationship with a man,” she explained quietly. “My daughter has always been my priority. My daughter and my work. Everything else seems less important.”

  I allowed her response to settle within me.

  “How come you’re not married, Dante?”

  “I guess...same thing. I always had my gig—the only thing that mattered. Everything else was background noise.” I stopped talking and thought about it for a second, then said, “To tell you the truth, I think I was too fucked up.”

  If my answer shocked Camille, she didn’t show it. There was no indication of a reaction in her features. “You were too high to figure out whether you liked someone enough to get married?”

  “It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

  “It sounds ridiculous.”

  “For the record, I’m not proud of my old self.”

  “I’d be disappointed if you were.”

  “Since we’re being brutally honest”—I rested my palm on the tabletop and ran my index finger across its cloth-covered surface—“tell me something I would have never guessed about you.”

  Camille shifted again, slinging one leg over the other. Her voice was very low, as if she didn’t want anyone to overhear. “Ally was an accident. I seduced her father at a college party I attended during my freshman year.”

  “Go on,” I whispered, sensing that there was more to the story than those two sentences.”

  “My parents, particularly my mother, were very strict. One day I just got tired of being perfect and decided to do something outrageous. My friends dragged me to this get-together that apparently had an interesting guest list. One of my classmates was from an affluent family. Her father had connections in the entertainment industry. Ally’s dad was there that night. Tall, good-looking, mysterious. Older. And I wanted new experiences. A few weeks later, I found out that I was pregnant. When I got a hold of him, he didn’t want anything to do with me or his child. He was engaged to someone else.” Camille quieted.

  “Was he your first?”

  “Second.”

  “Men are pigs.” I was only half kidding.

  She didn’t disagree. “Most men.”

  “And you were a vixen.”

  “Oh, I was on the loose. You have no idea what it was like to grow up with my mother. I couldn’t even choose what to wear on my own until I went to college.”

  “Hey, at least she cared about how you looked. My mother hated my guts. Still does. Some women aren’t meant to be parents and she’s one of them.”


  The silence between us was one of delicate solidarity. At last, we had something in common—parents who weren’t happy with the way we’d each turned out, and I marveled at the fact.

  “I hope the food was to your liking,” Camille said, redirecting the conversation.

  “It was great. Thank you. I’ll want the recipe,” I teased.

  “I didn’t peg you for someone who cooks.”

  “Oh, I typically don’t, but since I’m technically unemployed and have time to burn, it’s proved to be a better hobby than golf. I just embarrass myself in front of my housekeeper.”

  She laughed, a sound so pure and bright that I wanted to grab it and hold on to it until it made me forget everything up until this moment.

  Malik called the next morning while I was still in bed.

  “I’m taking you up on your offer,” he told me, then added in a thin voice, “If you still want me to move in, honey.”

  “I’m so emotional right now,” I joked, wrapping my arm around Snowflake, who was enthusiastically licking my side and rolling on the blankets.

  Tone serious this time, Malik promised, “I’m gonna get you into shape, brother.”

  “What’s wrong with me now?”

  “You need to pack on some muscle.”

  “Women like me the way I am. It’s all about the charm.”

  “Whatever you say, brother.”

  My gaze crawled across my body. I hated it with all my heart. The fact that it had betrayed me. The fact that my fingers weren’t in sync with my brain.

  Pack on muscle, huh? Easy to say; not so easy to do, considering my current diet, but I didn’t want to argue with Malik. He meant well. He also seemed thrilled about being my roommate. Besides, I liked the idea of training with a professional.

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” I agreed.

  “What time shall I come by? I’ve got a few things I want to drop off.”

  “I’ll be home by eight.”

  “Cool. See you later. God bless.”

  I swallowed the religious comment and wished him a productive day, then killed the call.

  My own day had a packed schedule too. An appointment with my therapist before lunch. Then another appointment with my attorney in the afternoon, and an AA meeting in the evening. But my biggest problem? I was terrified to leave Snowflake home alone. I almost convinced myself that taking the puppy along for all my errands wouldn’t be a big deal, but then I remembered how scared he was in my car when we drove together for the first time. I couldn’t make the little guy go through that again.

  “Will you be all right if I run out for a few hours?” I asked as I picked him up from the blanket and settled him on my chest.

  In turn, he stared at me with his huge eyes.

  “I suppose since you’re not putting up a fight, that’s a yes.” I ran my palm over his head and along his small body. He seemed to like that. “You know what, bud? You and I are destined to do great things.”

  It sounded like I was trying to persuade myself more than I was trying to persuade him. Like I was trying to persuade myself that I had more brilliant life left in me.

  Snowflake stretched, his paws slipping across my neck, and licked my chin excitedly.

  10 Camille

  I wasn’t sure why exactly I was so nervous.

  I’d dropped off my daughter at school on her first day of a new academic year quite a few times, but she was a sophomore now and she felt less and less like my kid and more like my roommate. Especially since getting her to have dinner with me at this point required a rock star’s involvement.

  My Ally was growing too fast.

  “I’ll get a ride home with Cal,” she said as she climbed out of her seat and swung the passenger door open. Hot air creeped inside the car and I caught the faint scent of burnt grass and wood.

  “Cal? Didn’t he graduate last year?”

  Ally hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. “He’s dating Trish.” Trish was in the same grade Pauline and Ally were, and it took me a second to realize what my kid had just revealed to me. “He’s picking us up after class,” she continued.

  “Dating?” I gaped at her. So much for my harmless boys list.

  “Yes, Mom. See you later.” She shut the door and charged across the neatly trimmed lawn for the entrance, bypassing the other kids.

  I was so stunned by the fact that the parents of a fifteen-year-old girl were letting her date a guy who was nineteen that I almost ran a red light while I was turning the corner. Thankfully, there was no shortage of people who expressed their feelings about my driving with obnoxious honking, which kept me pretty much in one lane for the remainder of my trip. My ears, however, were still ringing by the time I got to work.

  When I stepped out of my car, the air felt positively heavy and smelled like cigarette smoke. Heat bit my cheeks and crept beneath my summer blazer, reminding me that sweat stains were extremely visible on pastel colors. Harper was off today, but Renn’s white SUV was already here. Only, instead of white, it was gray and devoid of shine, and when I approached the vehicle and carefully brushed my fingers across its roof, they collected a whole lot of dust.

  No, not dust, I thought as I studied the dark coat of grime on my skin. Ash.

  Old memories flashed through my head. The firefighters at our door. Ally crying. Dad instructing us to cover our faces as we ran to his Volkswagen. I remembered being ripped away from my life and tossed into a hotel for three days, not knowing whether our house would still be standing when we came back.

  Instinctively, I looked up, but there was nothing above me but a stretch of bleached blue sky with one single cloud floating lazily across.

  I hurried inside and headed straight to my office, where I powered up my laptop and checked the news. The fire that had destroyed the camping site near Santa Barbara was spreading south and the wind only made it worse, but there didn’t seem to be any immediate danger to those who lived south of Oxnard.

  Renn was putting the finishing touches on the displays on the main floor when I entered. Today, she wore a pair of white slacks and a baby pink short-sleeved jacket over a black silk top. The shoes were my favorite. Black stilettos with delicate clear heels. She always knew how to pick them. Just like Harper, she dressed impeccably.

  “You’re early today,” Renn noted as I walked over to the reception desk and looked at our list of appointments.

  “I took Ally to school. Didn’t seem wise to go back home for thirty minutes. Plus, all that traffic.” Which I blamed on the beginning of the new academic year.

  “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s fine. She was nervous last fall, but I think she has other things to worry about these days besides making friends.”

  “She’s such a sweet kid,” Renn drawled and I wondered if she was confusing my daughter with someone else. Ally was anything but sweet these days. Yesterday, she tried to persuade me to let her get a tattoo again. The fight concluded with some temperamental door slamming and a full hour of brutal metal guitar solos pouring from her room.

  I shook off my unease and scanned the appointments for a third time, willing my mind to concentrate on work. “Three cancellations?”

  “Yes, they were all coming from Santa Barbara, and apparently, the freeway has been shut down.”

  “I hate when this happens.”

  “What can we do?” Renn shrugged, straightening the flower arrangement beneath the window decal. “Those poor men and women are already working day and night.” She was referring to the firefighters.

  “You’re right,” I agreed.

  “Did you remember today is Amun’s first day?”

  “I do.” No, I didn’t. With my life revolving around Ally’s and the beginning of her sophomore year, I totally forgot that we hired a new girl last week and she was starting her training today.

  “I can work with her if you’re busy,” Renn offered.

  “No, I got it. What time is she supposed to be here?”

  “Eleven.�
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  “Sounds good. I have to make a few phone calls. Let me know when she arrives.” I strode back to my office, cranked up the AC, wrestled off my blazer, and settled behind my desk.

  Typically, work soothed me. I’d been doing this for so long, I couldn't separate myself from the boutique anymore. It was easy and it was fun and, in a way, it brought joy to people’s lives. Because that’s what wedding dresses did. Made an already happy day stunning and memorable. But my fight with Ally kept coming at me like a rabid dog, a constant reminder of all my failures as a mother.

  Time dragged by at first, until I finally managed to convince myself that thinking about what couldn’t be changed at this very moment didn’t need to interrupt my work. Things went much smoother after that and I didn’t even realize it was almost lunch time until Renn knocked on my door to let me know Amun had just arrived.

  I glanced at the digital clock on my laptop and said in a hushed voice, “She’s forty-five minutes late.”

  “She lives in Thousand Oaks. She said she was on the freeway for two hours,” Renn explained with an understanding expression on her face. She obviously didn’t want me to be too hard on the new hire. Being tardy on the first day was a huge no-no, but we had no way of changing things that were unquestionably out of our control.

  Suddenly, I felt as if I was losing my grasp on everything. My life. My work. My daughter. It made my head spin.

  “She’s really nice and she has customer service experience,” Renn added. “Give her a chance.”

  Standing from my chair, I let out a heavy sigh and said, “Okay. I’ll be right there.”

  “Just so you know, we had another cancellation.”

  Amun was sitting on a bench in the lingerie section with her hands folded politely in her lap when I emerged on the main floor. She shot to her feet and greeted me with an energetic handshake.

  “I’m so sorry I was late. I’m usually always early, but there was so much traffic because of the closure,” the girl apologized profusely, sounding very sincere. She was tall and lithe with a strikingly expressive face and short black hair that reached just above her shoulders, and I remembered thinking to myself during her interview that she made me feel comfortable, which is important if you want to work with women who are about to get married.