Chapter 11 Remy
Chapter eleven
Remy
I left him alone for less than ten minutes.
I snatch my phone back and shove him toward the truck.
“We need to talk,” I tell him. “Not here. Something isn’t right.”
He’s got that dazed look again, the one he gets when he’s chasing his muse. But this time it’s different. Deeper. Like he’s slipped a gear and can’t find it again.
I herd him out of the cemetery and into the truck. He doesn’t resist.
That worries me more than if he had.
I’m driving without a destination. I know he needs to eat, and damn it, I want a drink, but I also need privacy.
I call one of my buddies who owns a restaurant. He owes me. Ten minutes later, I’ve got a private room.
Erik still hasn’t said a word. His fingers twitch in his lap. He pulls his phone from his back pocket and plugs it into the charger.
It’s the first thing I’ve seen him do in weeks that resembles self-care.
I know better.
He didn’t charge it because he was aware. He charged it because he needs the voice app.
I pull up to the steakhouse. He’s still staring at the charge on his phone. Two percent.
I open the console and grab a charging cube.
“Take the charger,” I tell him. “We’ll keep it plugged in while we eat, okay? Until then, you can use mine.”
That finally breaks through. He nods.
The hostess takes us straight back. Devon must’ve given her a heads-up that we were coming.
When the server comes in I order two old fashions and waters along with our dinner order. I get us both steaks with loaded baked potatoes. Erik is ignoring her.
When she leaves I punch him in the arm.
He flicks a glance at me.
“Why were you singing about an angel?” I ask the question I’ve been biting back since he took my phone.
He blinks, focuses. We're talking about his obsession so he will play along.
“She was playing for me. She needs me to tell her story. Didn’t you hear her? The violin?”
“No one was out there but us,” I say. “There was no music when I came back.”
“She was there,” he insists.
“How do you know it’s a she?” Crap. Maybe I really do need to get him help.
“A man couldn’t feel pain like that.” He leans forward, intent now. “Her notes, her pacing, it goes straight to me. I feel the words, the emotion.”
I don’t.
He knows it, because he keeps going. “There’s heartbreak in it. Raw pain. Broken trust. It all comes through.”
“Is there any chance,” I say carefully, “that it’s just you hearing the piece you’re writing? Not someone physically playing?”
He considers that. Really considers it.
“No.” He shakes his head once. “What’s being played is too dark.” He tilts his head, listening to something I can’t hear. “Too much rage. Too much pain. I’ve never lived it. If it weren’t real, I wouldn’t hear it.”
I nod.
We grew up together. I know this about him. Erik can lose himself in the work, but he’s always been grounded in reality.
The server returns and sets our drinks in front of us. Erik grabs the water. She gives him a flirtatious smile. “I’ll be back with more water for you, darlin’,” she drawls.
He stares at me, ignoring her completely. Erik doesn’t see other people. They just don’t register.
I smile at her. “Thanks, that would be great. Maybe just a pitcher so you don’t have to keep running back and forth, if you’ve got one to spare.”
She nods and disappears.
I toss the black envelope onto the table. “I got this today when the crew found hidden passages under the stage.”
He opens it and reads.
“Why would she write you and not me?” he asks.
“I think you’re missing the point,” I say carefully. “This is a threat.”
He shakes his head, already elsewhere. “It doesn’t make sense.” He’s talking to himself now. “She plays for me. Why would you get a note?”