2. Harmony
Chapter 2
Harmony
Roanoke airport is huge—or so it seems to a small-town girl who’s never left Pembroke, Virginia. I’m pretty sure half the population of the world is here. It’s taken the best sound-canceling headphones money can buy, dark sunglasses, and my best friend to get me this far. I’m not about to fall apart now.
I’ve come a long way in treating my anxiety. Countless hours of therapy have enabled me to live a mostly normal life instead of becoming a shut-in. I can film singing vlogs all day long, but the thought of singing in front of real, live people is both magical… and terrifying. And about to become a reality.
Mack Solomon has been my guilty crush for as long as I can remember. He was the lead singer of Dynamite, the boy band that burst onto the music scene twelve years ago, topped the charts multiple times, and took the world by storm. Their dream lasted five years until Mack quit the band after his mother’s death. The rest of the band members tried to continue without him, but none of them had the vocal range of Mack, and within six months, the band announced their split.
Mack has gone on to have a successful solo career, although lately, his lyrics have been missing the emotional connection synonymous with his songs.
The man is male perfection made flesh. His amazing voice, passion for his art, athletic body, and careless good looks are enough to make any woman’s pulse race. And his voice? Smooth as caramel with a rough undertone that adds depth to his performance.
As we walk, Elli rattles off my itinerary. “Okay, so Mack’s manager, Harry, is meeting you at JFK and taking you to your hotel so you can unpack and unwind before going to the recording studio tomorrow, which is at Mack’s house in the Catskills. Think you can handle all that?”
I nod, fighting the swarm of fire-breathing butterflies in my stomach.
“Take some deep breaths before you disappear up your own asshole,” Elli says, grasping my hand in hers.
Despite her bluntness, no one understands my anxiety better than Elli. “I’m not having a panic attack.”
“Nope. You’re a strong, confident woman who’s going to get on that flight, go to New York, and sing the pants off Mack Solomon. He won’t know what’s hit him.” Elli grins, squeezing my hand as we head for the check-in desk.
I return the squeeze, grateful she’s here. If it weren’t for Elli, I’d be all alone in this world. She’s my biggest supporter and the reason I started uploading my videos to the internet in the first place. Performing to a faceless audience by setting up my own channel allowed me to indulge my passion in the safety of my own four walls.
“I still can’t believe this is happening,” I say, shaking my head.
“You and me both, Harmonica,” Elli says, using the nickname she gave me when we were five. “You had less than a hundred subscribers when you started your channel. You’ve uploaded hundreds of videos over the last three years. Then you upload your version of Visions of Her, and it goes viral overnight. And who should hear about it but Mack Solomon’s manager?”
“Insane, right? Makes me realize anything is possible, even for someone like me.”
Elli frowns at me. “What do you mean, someone like you? Having an anxiety disorder doesn’t make you any less worthy of realizing your dreams.”
“What if Mack doesn’t like me?” I voice the question that’s been on a loop in my head for the last seven days since Harry Summers reached out to me.
“You’re here because he recognizes your talent, as does the record company. You wouldn’t be flying you to New York if they thought you weren’t worth the investment, and as your best friend, it's my job to remind you what an amazing person you are, and if others can’t see it, I’ll… I’ll beat them over the head with my sweeping brush.”
I laugh at my friend’s fierce expression. Elli operates at a hundred miles an hour, as does her tongue, on occasion. She’s rarely still unless something captures her attention, like her passion for jewelry-making, and then she’ll lose herself for hours on end.
I know some people find her “too much,” but that’s never been the case for me. Where I’m quiet and shy, Elli is outgoing and friendly, so we’re the perfect fit.
When I was five, my parents were killed in a car wreck. My grandparents took me in and raised me, and Elli lived on the same street. We hit it off immediately, and as we’ve grown up together, we’ve become as close as sisters. We both ended up with jobs at Mountain Ridge Resort, the popular vacation resort in our hometown, Elli as a maid and me behind the bar at the resort’s pub.
She’s been with me every step of the way during the whirlwind of excitement and disbelief of the last week. Excitement at having Mack’s manager reach out and disbelief at the events that followed. After leaving a comment on my video, Harry messaged me privately to tell me he wanted me to come to New York to sing with Mack Solomon. After scraping myself off the floor and many more conversations with Elli present, including a video chat where Harry verified his identity, my flight and hotel were booked and paid for. Just like that, my trip to New York was finalized.
Elli stays with me as I check in for my flight. The woman behind the check-in desk hands back my driver’s license and boarding pass with a smile, wishing me a great flight.
“It’s really happening, Harmonica,” Elli says excitedly, looping her arm through mine. “You’ve got this. I knew in my bladder this would happen one day because you’re an amazing singer and songwriter, and talent like yours deserves to be recognized and nourished so you can wow the world and?—”
I pull her in for a hug, cutting her off.
“I was rambling again, wasn’t I?” Elli mumbles into my hair.
“A little, but the good kind.” I chuckle. Hugging her tighter, I whisper, “I wish you were coming with me.”
“Me too, but I think they’d probably die of starvation if I left them for a week,” she sighs, referring to her stepfather and brothers.
I draw back to look at my friend. “They’re grown-ass men, Elli. It’s time they stood on their own two feet and took care of themselves.” Words I’ve said a hundred times to no avail.
She sighs. “Yeah, but a promise is a promise, right?”
I loved Elli’s mom, but part of me is angry with her for making her daughter promise to look after her husband and his sons before she died. Elli takes things literally and will tie herself to that promise until she’s old and wrinkled.
“Maybe a tall, rich, handsome man will come along and sweep you off your feet while I’m gone. Make you realize there’s more to life than being a live-in maid to those lazy assholes.”
Elli snorts loudly. “Yeah, right. As if some filthy rich guy is going to fall in love with me, rescue me from my step-family, and whisk me off to join my superstar best friend in New York.”
“Stranger things have happened,” I say with a wink.
A disembodied voice calls my flight over the airport announcement system.
My stomach flutters with nerves. “That’s me.”
Elli hugs me. “Love you. Call me when you get there.”
“I will.” I nod, fighting back the tears. “Love you too.”
I turn and head for the escalator that will take me through security.
“Go get ‘em, rock star!” Elli hollers, uncaring of the disapproving stares from other passengers.
I give her a final wave and a grin before she disappears from sight.
Once I’m settled in my seat on the plane with my seatbelt secured, I pop my headphones on and lose myself in the music. It keeps me in the moment and stops me from overthinking that I’ll be flying at five hundred miles per hour and thirty-five thousand feet in the air. I have a window seat, with a couple sitting in the seats next to me. They look like honeymooners as they only have eyes for each other. Suits me fine, as I don’t need to worry about engaging in conversation.
I close my eyes and rest my head back as Mack’s song Always comes on my playlist. His voice washes over me like a current of magic, and shivers run down my arms.
Will he like me? Will I live up to his expectations as a singing partner? I’ve only spoken with Harry up to this point, so I only have his word that Mack is on board with this. I know Harry is the real deal. Besides verifying his identity during our video chats, it was easy enough to do an internet search on Mack’s manager.
Almost two hours later, we land at JFK. Several flights have landed at the same time, so the airport is thick with passengers disembarking. I’m swept along with the crowd, tugging my carry-on suitcase behind me and trying not to succumb to the overwhelm of being among so many people.
I pass through security without a hitch and emerge into Arrivals. Scanning the crowd, I look for a tall, blond-haired man holding a placard with my name, but I don’t see Harry anywhere. I’m jostled as passengers behind me surge forward, pushing me along on their wave, and my anxiety ratchets up another level.
My breathing grows ragged, and my throat tightens. I force myself to calm down and breathe, urging my lungs to take in air despite the steel band closing around them. Every muscle in my body locks, and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead.
I wipe it away, running my damp palms down my jeans. This was a bad idea. I should’ve known my anxiety would get the better of me. This is it. I’m having a panic attack. My throat will close up, and I won’t be able to breathe. I’ll keel over in front of all these people and?—”
I’m knocked off balance as another wave of passengers flows around me. I clutch at thin air as the floor rushes up to meet me and close my eyes with a whimper.
The impact I expect never comes as strong arms halt my fall. Grasping firm forearms, I look up … and up … into a pair of beautiful brown eyes, and my breath freezes for a different reason. Even with a baseball cap pulled low over his face, I would recognize him anywhere. Mack Solomon.
Tall with broad, powerful shoulders and muscular arms, he’s dressed in faded jeans and a black t-shirt that molds to his wide chest. He’s much bigger in the flesh, and I feast on every feature of his face, every laugh line and eyelash.
And then I do something crazy. Without conscious thought, I move close and wrap my arms around his waist like he’s my port in a storm. The warmth of his firm chest beneath my cheek and his strong arms wrapping around me like a blanket of calm soothes my anxiety. His breath ruffles my hair as his scent infiltrates my senses, and I never want to let go.
We haven’t spoken a single word, yet I’ve never felt safer.