Chapter Nineteen

Polychord:a harmonic structure consisting of two or more different chords (usually triads). The polychord should be spaced or orchestrated so that the identity of each chord is retained.

Damian

Lauren is chatting with Natalie, a pretty girl with a dark bob and a pert little nose who Charlie introduced as her assistant, about what it’s like to work with Charlie. I’m half listening, but mostly focused on Charlie. I want to talk to her. To ask her things. To sit next to her and have her lean against me. But Lauren’s sharing the couch with her. And I don’t want to do those things with an audience. Especially since we’re in this sort of limbo. We talk. We apparently kiss. A lot, if our last visit is anything to go by.

But that was in the privacy of her hotel room.

In public?

I don’t know what to do or how to act. I can’t tear my eyes away from Charlie, though. Lauren’s noticed, and I’m sure I’ll hear about it from her when we get back.

Natalie mentions something about the pop-up show this weekend, and I let out a low groan.

“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Charlie’s sitting up straighter, her voice concerned, almost panicky.

I shake my head. “No. I’m fine. It’s just about your show.”

Her face falls. “Oh. You don’t want to come?”

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just that my sister made me promise to ask about getting tickets to your next show in the area, and I told her I would. She’s going to pitch a fit when she finds out I’m getting to see your show and didn’t tell her in advance.”

Charlie giggles. “Oh, well. I’ve been thinking about going to Seattle soon. How about I fly you both out for that show? Would that work?”

I flash her a grateful smile. “That sounds perfect. And that means I’ll get to see you again, too.”

When Charlie shivers a little, I realize I’ve let my voice drop into the range I use when we’re alone. In bed. My cheeks and ears get warm, and when I glance at Lauren, she’s watching Charlie and I with a look on her face like the cat that got the cream. All smug satisfaction. Like she somehow orchestrated this whole thing.

Natalie’s face is buried in her tablet, studiously ignoring all of us.

Charlie tucks her hair behind her ears, her eyes finding mine again. “I’ll send you home with an autographed picture. Natalie, can you go get one?”

Looking up, Natalie screws her face into a thoughtful frown. “Sure. I’ll see if Jane knows where they’re stowed.”

She gets up to talk to Jane, and I glance at Charlie. “Thank you. You don’t have to go to all that trouble, though. Getting to see you in Seattle will calm her down enough.”

Charlie shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. I like your sister. I’m happy to send her anything you think she might like. And it’ll be fun to see her when you guys come to my show.”

I give her a smile, but have to swallow hard. It’s surreal that this is the same girl I took to Sunday dinners and Thanksgiving with my family. Part of me forgot that she knows my little sister, and I didn’t even think about Charlie wanting to see Carla again.

The clash of past and present, the talk of future plans, all of it is messing with my head. I don’t know what to make of any of it. And the day before an important performance is probably not the time to try to sort any of it out.

Charlie has us booked at a much nicer hotel than where Lauren and I had originally planned to stay. Lauren was the one who’d delivered the news after Music History one day this week, letting me know she’d canceled our reservations because Charlie had booked us all three in a different hotel.

“Wait, what?” I caught her arm, pulling her back because she was about to drop that bomb and walk away.

She arched one eyebrow and crossed her arms after I let her go. “Oh, did Charlie not mention that?”

“No. She did not.”

Lauren waved a hand. “She said she’ll take care of it. She can afford it, Damian. Don’t fret.” And with that, she’d waltzed off, leaving me stewing.

After the private plane lands, a black SUV with tinted windows is waiting for us. “Sorry the three of us have to squeeze together in the back,” Charlie says as we walk across the tarmac. “A limo would hold us all better, but it’s so ostentatious, and I don’t want to make my presence obvious, y’know?”

Lauren nods sagely, like she understands from personal experience. I snort and roll my eyes at her. But then I catch Charlie’s concerned look. “I get it,” I say quickly, offering a smile.

She smiles back, but it still looks off. God, this isn’t starting off well.