24. Callie
24
CALLIE
The image of him holding her is burned in my brain.
His eyes were closed. He was smiling into her hair.
And she was in nothing but a T-shirt. His? Probably.
What pisses me off the most, though, is that I’m jealous. I’m jealous, and I have no right to be.
I mentally scold myself. Torren King and Sav Loveless are a foregone conclusion. Even I know that. Sure, she might be in a relationship with someone else, but history is notorious for predicting the future. Torren and Sav will always end up back together. It just is what it is.
And anyway. I don’t fucking care.
I have no idea where we’re going, but I’m too stubborn to ask. I keep my mouth shut and my gaze fixed out the window until my phone rings in my handbag. I pull it out and find a video chat request from Glory Bell. I push accept, and then I’m face to face with my sister. She’s in the bathroom of our small apartment applying makeup, and she’s dressed in her uniform, getting ready for work.
“Hey, Glor.”
“Hey! I missed your call last night.”
I smile and turn my body away from Torren. “Yeah. I just wanted to check in. See how you and Mom are.”
“We’re good, Cal. I’m working. Mom’s back in PT. Oh, but Mom told me about the money. That’s some?—”
“Glory,” I cut her off, flicking my eyes to Torren and back to the phone. I don’t know what she was going to say about the money Torren gave me, but I could tell from her tone that it’s not good, so I change the subject. “How’s your dumb dog?”
Glory smiles as she runs a blush brush over her cheeks. “Torren King is almost completely potty-trained.”
She looks so proud, and while I manage to stifle my laugh, Torren (the human, not the dog) doesn’t even try. At the sound of his deep chuckle, Glory’s eyes go wide, and then they narrow.
“Are you with him?”
I nod. “Yeah. We’re, um, we’re going on a date.”
Torren leans into my space then, and I see his face join mine on the phone screen. His charming expression is the opposite of my dreadful one.
“Hey, Glory Bell,” Torren says with a grin. “I’m glad to hear the good news about your dog.”
Glory’s eyes stay narrowed for a moment before she finally speaks. And when she does, my jaw drops.
“What the heck kind of fifty shades crap are you pulling with my sister?”
“Glory.” I gasp, but she doesn’t even look at me. She stays staring at Torren.
“Giving her a check like that just so she can come on tour with you? That’s sus as hell. I don’t care if you are a famous rock star. If she ends up trapped in some red room of sex torture, then you?—”
“Glory Bell! Stop.”
Glory closes her mouth and turns her accusatory glare on me.
“What the fuck? And I said you couldn’t watch that movie.”
My sister rolls her eyes. “ Please . I read the books.” Then she moves her attention back to Torren. “I don’t trust you, Torren King.”
I glance at Torren and find him fighting a smile. He nods slowly, and when he speaks, his words sound sincere.
“This situation is unconventional, and I understand why you don’t trust me. But I swear your sister is safe. No red rooms. I promise.”
Glory arches a brow, and even though she’s a fifteen-year-old with mascara on only one eye, she still looks intimidating.
“You better not hurt her, or you’ll regret it,” she threatens. “I know people. Remember that. And I’ll rename the dog. ”
Then she hangs up.
I blink at the phone screen. I can’t believe she just said that. I can’t believe she just hung up.
“Wow,” Torren says with a laugh. “She’s something else.”
I huff and nod. “Yeah, she really is.”
A text from Glory buzzes through before I even finish my sentence.
Glory Bell
Sorry. Had to hang up for the plot. I’ll call after work.
Stay out of the red room.
I smile to myself as I type out a quick okay, talk soon , then put my phone back in my bag.
My sister really is something else. I know people ? Who the hell does she think she knows? I have to swallow back a laugh at the whole thing. My sister just threatened Torren. Torren , whom she loved so much that she named her dog after him. She threatened him for me.
Proof that my sister loves me. I knew it.
I’m still riding the high of the humorous exchange when the SUV pulls into the parking garage of a large music hall. I sit up straight and look back at Torren.
“Where are we?”
He smiles. “Oh, now you want to know?”
I arch a brow, and he laughs before answering me. “We’re at the Texas Grand Performance Center.”
The SUV pulls up to an elevator and a man in a black suit opens Torren’s door. Torren climbs out, then rounds the car and opens my door, offering me his hand. I take it and let him help me out of the vehicle, then he puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me into an elevator.
“Are you going to ask me what we’re doing here?”
I purse my lips. My curiosity is overtaking my desire to remain aloof. Of all the places he could have brought me, this is the best one to spark my interest.
“Okay, fine,” I relent. “What are we doing here?”
He chuckles. “Do you know who Constance Chen is? ”
My feet stop in their tracks. My eyes widen to twice their size. When he looks at me, his smile grows.
“Does that mean you do know her, or you don’t?”
I stare at him and force words out of my mouth. “Is she here?”
He nods, and my heart thrums with excitement.
Constance Chen was one of my idols. I used to want to be her. A child pianist prodigy, she was accepted to Julliard at just six years old, and she’s grown up to become a world-renowned classical pianist. She’s arguably the best classical pianist alive. A once-in-a-generation kind of talent is what music critics have called her. It’s said she could read music before she could speak. She’s been winning international piano competitions for literal decades, and her last solo performance sold out in two minutes. I’d long since given up ever seeing her play live, but when she announced her retirement last year, I was still devastated.
The thought that I’m in the same building as her...
“Are we going to see her play?”
My question is posed quietly, tentatively, as if I don’t want to get my own hopes up. Torren just winks at me and leads me through the double doors of the concert hall, then up a set of stairs. My pulse speeds up.
We are.
We are going to see Constance Chen perform. I’m drowning in my own excitement as my eyes scan the empty venue. The rows and rows of red velvet seats are vacant. I glance down at the main floor of the concert hall and find that it is vacant as well. In fact, it’s all been strangely empty. I didn’t register it until just now. Aside from one usher and a few security guards, I’ve seen no one. The parking garage. The lobby. All of it’s been empty.
“Where is everyone?”
“Oh, I rented it out. It’s just us this morning.”
I look up at him with wide eyes.
“You did what?”
“Ms. Chen is retired, so she’s not performing for large audiences anymore.”
I shake my head and my heart sinks. “I don’t understand. She’s not performing today?”
“She is. But it’s just for us. ”
I stop walking once more, my mouth falling open silently. Torren laughs and gestures to the row of seats I stopped next to.
“Is this where you want to sit? We can go back down if you want? Or we can move closer?”
“How?”
“We don’t have assigned seats, Callie. We’re the only ones here.”
“No, I mean, how did you get her to come out of retirement to play for just us?”
“Oh, that.” He gives me another of those charming smiles. “Her granddaughter loves the band. I got her VIP tickets and a meet and greet tonight. Also, you know, I paid her, too.”
I can’t think of anything else to say, so I just nod. He laughs again.
“Let’s move just a little closer. I was told the front of the balcony is the best place for sound.”
I nod again and allow him to lead me to the front-most row of the balcony. Once I sit, he takes out his phone and sends a text.
“Just another few minutes. Are you excited?”
I scan his face. It’s hopeful in the most confusing, stomach-twisting way. Like maybe this whole date isn’t just for show. He put this together for me, he planned it out with care, and he wants me to enjoy it, so I give him an honest answer.
“I’m so excited that I’m trying not to cry.”
Torren’s smile softens as his green eyes bounce between mine. My skin prickles with awareness the longer he looks at me. When his gaze drops briefly to my lips, I resist the urge to lick them. Instead, I let the words on the tip of my tongue fall loose.
“Thank you, Torren.”
The lights dim, and I dart my attention to the stage. I feel him lean closer, his breath in my hair as he speaks.
“You’re welcome.”
The curtain opens then, revealing the most gorgeous white grand piano. I hear the tap of footsteps, and I can’t help but lean closer to the stage, pressing my hands to the balcony railing in front of me. When Constance Chen steps out from behind the curtain, tears well in my eyes. When she sits gracefully onto the piano bench seat and starts to play, the tears fall.
They don’t stop for her entire performance .
A steady stream of happy tears trails down my cheeks as she plays one perfect, beautiful piece after another. She plays with a level of finesse I’ve only ever dreamed of achieving. She possesses a comfort I’ve never been after to master.
Constance Chen belongs behind a piano.
She was born to play.
She was born to be the best.
She’s absolutely brilliant. A true artist. And as she plays, I let myself float along on the music, reveling in the realization that I am in the presence of greatness. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. My eyes fall shut, absorbing as much of the sound into my body as possible. Committing every single note to memory.
I will never, ever forget this.
When the opening notes of Chopin’s “Nocturnein E-flat Major” fill the hall, goose bumps cover my body, and I don’t stop myself from blindly reaching for Torren’s hand. He takes my hand in both of his, cradling it on his knee as I sit with my eyes closed. As I completely lose myself in the music, it feels like the only thing keeping me anchored is his hold on me. I’m so happy in this moment that I could die and float away with no regrets.
When the last song is over, I stand and clap so loudly that my hands hurt. She stands and bows, and I don’t stop clapping until she’s disappeared once again behind the curtain and the lights in the hall slowly come back on.
When I turn to face Torren, his eyes are already on me, and they’re filled with a mix of emotions I can’t decipher. I smile up at him through my tears, speechless. There isn’t a single word in the English language that could adequately express how happy, how grateful , I am in this moment.
I don’t flinch away when his hands cup my face, warm, calloused fingers and cold silver rings resting on my skin. I don’t stop him when he gently wipes away my tears with his thumbs.
“Do you want to meet her?”
All I can do is nod.
He smiles, then takes my hand. “Come on then. I’ll introduce you. ”
I’m on a cloud as we drive back to the hotel.
I close my eyes, rest my head on the seat, and relive the entire experience. Every song. Every note. It was surreal, and she was just as magical in person. They say don’t meet your idols, but in this case, they were wrong. Constance Chen is even better than I could have imagined. From her soft, lilting accent to the elegant way she moved, she exuded music. When she hugged me, I could have passed out.
But her parting words...
Those are what echo the loudest in my head.
Hold on to that one , she’d said, nodding at Torren. They don’t go through this amount of trouble for just anyone.
I try like hell to beat it back—to silence it—but for the next few days, I sift through the tabloids. Despite the burning desire in my chest for it to mean more , I search for something, anything, to douse the growing embers of affection. A sign that it was all for show. Proof that it was an act. That the date was just for the job.
I find photos of Torren and me after concerts everywhere. Pictures and videos of us coming and going from the hotels and the buses.
But not a single mention of the private concert with Constance Chen.
Not a headline. Not a photo. Not a statement. Nothing.
Jonah’s words once again flit through my mind.
Bare minimum. Wants to keep you hidden.
I think you should be seen.
The date Torren planned? It was more than the bare minimum. It was the opposite of a pap walk. And while it was a secret moment, hidden from the world, it made me feel seen .
And that? Well, that messes with my head more than anything else could.