Chapter 7 #2
“I have a surprise for you,” I say. I haven’t been able to track down her keyboard, but I found something else. “Are you up for a side trip?”
“Sure,” she says, but she looks exhausted.
I think this will cheer her up, though. “Bash?” I ask. “What about you?”
He’s frowning out the window, but he turns to answer me. “Yeah, I have a little bit of time.”
Something is definitely up with this guy. I don’t think he’s drinking or anything like that, but something is on his mind. I wish he would confide in me. Or, if not in me, then in Ella.
Pushing the button for my driver’s intercom, I say, “Hey, Garth?”
His voice comes through the speaker. “Yes?”
“Take us to the university, please.”
Ella gives me a puzzled look, but I just smile and swing her legs over my lap so she’s sitting sideways and leaning against Sebastian—who is finally, finally pulled into the moment with us.
I slip off Ella’s shoes and rub her socked feet.
She sighs in contentment as I try to ease away her troubles.
I know a foot rub won’t solve everything, but it’s got to help, at least a tiny bit.
We arrive at San Esteban School of the Arts. The campus is all green grass and palm trees. It looks so bright and cheerful, I feel like I’ve stepped into a college brochure advertising the place.
I start leading Ella and Sebastian toward the music building. I know the way from attending the occasional concert or ballet. Sebastian glances over Ella’s head of brown curls to catch my gaze. Piano ? he mouths.
I nod.
After another minute of walking, Ella slows down. “We’re going to Kanno Hall, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” I say, “you know it?”
“Yep. I used to go to school here,” she says, looking down.
Bash meets my eyes and shrugs. He didn’t know, either. There’s a lot we don’t know about our baby girl, and it’s starting to bother me. I want to fix this, learn everything I can about her.
“When was this?” I ask, curious.
“A couple of years ago. I started attending part-time after high school.”
Why is she waiting tables and cleaning hotel rooms and offices and apartment buildings if she has a music degree?
“I never graduated,” she continues. “My dad got sick, so I quit to help take care of him.”
Now it’s making more sense, the work she has taken on. I doubt she’d accept my money if I handed it to her with no strings attached, but hopefully what I’m about to do will be okay, in her mind, to accept.
We’ve reached Kanno Hall, which is a modern, concrete brick building with expansive windows on the lower level. A patio extends across the front, and students sit on benches and directly on the ground in groups and alone, some tuning instruments, some intent on their phones.
Rather than totally surprise her, I say, “Because I’m a regular donor to the music program here, I’m allowed to use a room in the building during facility hours. I asked if my permission might be extended to you, Ella, and the director approved my request early this morning.”
Her face lights up, but her eyes fill with tears. “I couldn’t,” she says. “It’s too much—”
“It’s a perk that I haven’t been taking advantage of,” I say. “Seems a shame for it to go to waste, don’t you think?”
Sebastian nods in encouragement. “Ella, please say you’ll take Kingston up on the offer. Otherwise, he might try to learn an instrument, and I have insider knowledge that this would be a complete disaster.”
“Shut up,” I say, laughing. “The violin is a very complicated instrument. I’ve been told I should try the tuba instead.”
“Oh no, we can’t have that,” Ella says with a laugh. “I guess I could give this a try…sure.”
“Great,” I say. “Let’s go in.”
Sebastian
Ella looks as if she’s afraid someone’s going to jump out from a practice room and tell her she doesn’t belong.
It breaks my heart to see her looking unsure, when the girl should feel like she’s in her fucking element.
She’s a talented singer, and I can imagine she’s just as good at playing the piano. I can’t wait to see her at work.
“This is the practice room reserved for university donors,” Kingston says, stopping at a door with the word Reserved stamped across it. He uses a key card to unlock it. “If it’s in use, obviously, you’ll have to wait. But my impression is that donors hardly ever stop by.”
The door swings open to reveal a tidy room with a small, upright piano, a window, and one chair in addition to the piano bench.
Kingston looks at his phone and frowns. “I can’t stay, unfortunately. I’ll send Garth to take you to Bartleby’s after you’re done here, Ella—how does that sound?”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Ella whispers, her eyes on the piano.
Kingston chuckles, and so do I. Our baby girl is completely enamored with this room.
“I know I don’t have to,” Kingston says, “but I’m going to anyway. Let me take care of you, okay little one?”
“Okay, Daddy,” she says reflexively.
“Here’s the key card,” he says, sliding it into her hand.
She looks down at it, as if surprised. He gives her a little pat on the ass and says, “Go play, sweetheart. I’ll see you after work tonight?”
She nods, seems to remember herself, and turns to throw her arms around Kingston’s shoulders. “Thank you for this. So, so much.”
“You’re welcome, Ella.”
She throws her arms around me next, and I hold her tightly, inhaling her sweet scent.
“Thank you,” she says.
“Hey, I had nothing to do with this, but I’ll accept the hug.”
She laughs and goes to the piano bench to sit down.
“You can hang out with her for a bit?” Kingston asks. “I hate to abandon her.”
“I have a few minutes. I’m supposed to chat with Trina about plans. But I don’t think Ella will miss either of us while she’s in here.”
He gives her a fond look. “True.”
He leaves, and I turn back to Ella, who is absolutely absorbed in playing scales, then doing some other warm-ups, her hands moving quickly up and down the keyboard. From those, she segues easily into a melody I don’t recognize, and she begins to sing along.
Running through the city streets
Atmospheric interlude
You think you can run,
But can you outrun
The thoughts you seek to silence?
I sit in one of the chairs and drink in her song, realizing this must be one that she has written. It’s amazing, and when she pauses at the end, I tell her so.
She turns on the bench, giving me a little grin. “It needs some work, but I’ve got the basic melody down. The bridge is giving me trouble.”
“Try a diminished chord in there,” I suggest.
“Oooh, I can already hear that.” She turns around and plays it, nodding.
She takes a small notebook from her purse and starts scrawling down notes, and it’s as if I’ve ceased to exist again.
I don’t mind, though, because this—this is what I’ve always loved about music.
The ability to lose all sense of yourself to the act of creation.
The only other place I feel the same amount of peace is when I’m holding Ella in my arms.
I want to stay here. Sing with her.
I want to confide in her. Tell her everything.
But who the fuck am I, to shatter the joy that is obvious on her face?
Hey, Ella, I’m falling in love with you, and also, I have a history of abusing women and not just in the kinky way . I don’t think that would go over so well.
I listen to her play some other songs. I could do this all day, but then Trina texts. Dammit, that meeting. I ignore the text, but then she calls me.
Fuck my life.
I text Trina. I’ll be available in a minute .
“I have to go,” I say to Ella.
She pauses, her fingers still on the keys while she looks at me over her shoulder. “Already?”
“Yeah, it’s my agent. She’s harassing me about releasing a new song, so I should deal with her or she’ll only bug me again in ten minutes.”
“Okay,” she says. “But I won’t blame you if your new song is called ‘My Annoying Agent.’”
I laugh, and hopefully it only sounds forced to my ears. Ella’s already playing again, picking out a melody and accompanying chords.
I back out of the room, keeping Ella in my view for as long as possible, because she’s so fucking gorgeous, she takes my breath away.
If I’m not careful, I could lose everything.