5. Odette
5
ODETTE
“So, Nebula ,” Chloe announces as she strolls into the living room. Judging by the spring in her step, I can only imagine she has a shit-earing grin plastered on her face.
I look up, and there it is.
Except… this grin quickly morphs into her I’m about to make you an offer that you can’t refuse smirk, one she reserves for Nebula, my alter ego. It’s a look I am powerless to resist — something she knows. Unfortunately for me, she’s not above playing dirty if she thinks it’s for my own good.
As my best friend, Chloe has an uncanny knack for pulling me out of my own funk. She’s been there for me through thick and thin, and I trust her more than anyone. As Nebula’s business manager — Nebula being the stage name I use for my music — there’s no denying that she has a knack for bringing me gigs I can’t refuse.
Unfortunately for me, she’s usually right. And given that it is the holidays, those two things are a rather deadly combination for me.
“What time does the airport shuttle pick you up?” I ask her instead, returning my attention to the music sheets I’ve been going over for the past hour. Not that it’s making much sense at this point, with my mind preoccupied. The symbols blend together the longer I stare at them.
“I have a proposition for you,” she says as she settles onto the couch next to me. “A holiday getaway, so to speak.”
I lift an exasperated eyebrow. “Chloe,” I drag out her name, “I’m not exactly in the mood for a holiday getaway.”
“You do when you’ve got that face on.”
“What face?”
“The one where you’re pretending you’re fine but you’re actually falling apart.”
I feel her watching me more carefully this time, so I purposefully avoid her discerning gaze. To make matters worse, the air smells like pine from the candle she insisted on lighting, but it just reminds me of everything I’m avoiding this season.
Knowing she won’t quit unless I answer her, I give her the most honest response I can muster up. “I’m disappointed, not falling apart.”
“Uh-huh. Disappointed that your big holiday plans fell through, or disappointed that you’re stuck here alone, with nothing to distract you from... well, everything?”
“Both,” I admit, leaning back as my eyelids flutter, then close, exhaustion settling into my bones.
“That’s why you need a break. A real one. I’m talking somewhere completely different, somewhere you won’t have to think about Aurora, or Christmas, or any of this holiday nonsense.”
I frown. “It’s not nonsense. I was really looking forward to spending time with my daughter.”
“Poor choice of words, but my point still holds true. You’re allowed to be upset, you know. It’s okay to feel like this sucks because it does suck. You had plans. They fell through. Granted, it’s for a good cause, but that doesn’t mean you should disregard your very valid feelings on the matter.”
Her words sink in, and I blink rapidly, trying to keep my emotions in check. I’m not the kind of person who cries, not easily anyway. But Chloe sees through me, like always.
I let out a sigh, the idea settling uncomfortably. I don’t really want to be away from Chicago, but staying in my apartment isn’t exactly soothing my soul either. She’s right — I’m miserable, more than I care to admit.
“Where would I even go?” I ask, not entirely dismissing the idea.
She squeezes my hand. “Anywhere. Somewhere peaceful, for starters. Somewhere that doesn’t have Christmas music blasting from every speaker, trees decorated in gaudy glitter, or people being annoyingly cheerful. It doesn’t have to be extravagant, as long as it’s somewhere you can relax and just breathe. There’s no reason for you to be stuck in this city by yourself, especially when you hate the holidays as much as you do.”
Her fingers are warm against mine, and I can feel the concern in her grip. The ache in my chest feels a little less sharp. The idea of getting away from it all — of escaping the endless reminders of what this holiday was supposed to be — sounds more tempting by the second.
“Maybe you’re right,” I murmur, opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling.
How long has it been since I took a proper break from anything?
Too long.
“I am right.” Chloe gives my hand a gentle shake. “Treat yourself to some peace and quiet for once. You don’t have to put on a brave face for anyone. And honestly? You deserve to take care of yourself.”
For the first time in a long while, the idea of quiet sounds better than simply getting through the holidays. I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips as I turn to face her. “It feels like running away, though.”
The irony isn’t lost on me.
She’s about to board a private jet to Paris later today — granted, her life is always jet-setting, always bustling with glamor and excitement, so this is nothing new — but I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Even so, I’m grateful for her. More-so today. I need her energy and her push, even if it comes as a challenge.
She smirks. “Sometimes running away is exactly what you need. You’re not doing yourself any favors by staying here, stuck in this apartment, brooding. And, to be clear, it’s not running away. It’s taking a break, one both you and Nebula have earned.”
I hesitate to ask this, but the idea has already taken root. “And where will I find this magical nirvana at such short notice?”
Chloe grins, knowing she’s won. “I know just the place.”
I can’t tell if she’s joking or serious. Her eyes light up, a victorious sparkle flashing in them as she leans back on the couch, stretching her legs out in front of her.
I half smile, still not sure how I feel about the whole thing. “Nirvana isn’t real, you know.”
“This place comes pretty darn close. The only downside is I’ll have to grovel for it.”
Grovel?
“It’s worth it, though,” she continues, answering the question dancing on the tip of my tongue. “Remember that producer who wants Nebula to handle all the music for his sci-fi movie?”
How can I forget the self-proclaimed golden boy of Hollywood?
His words, not mine.
“First of all, I don’t do sci-fi projects.” I have nothing against those who do; it’s just not my forte, and I find it best to leave it to those familiar with the genre.
“I know.”
“He only wants me because my style is the closest to the late June Ehrenberg’s as he can get.”
“I know that too.”
“And I have no desire to find myself embroiled in a long, drawn-out copyright infringement lawsuit with her estate,” I add, ignoring the knot forming in my stomach.
She rolls her eyes. “We both know it won’t come to that. And even if it does, Caleb is handling it.”
Of course he is.
I’m not sure whether I should brace myself or be excited. And even though I know I will regret saying this, I say it anyway. “If he wants me that bad, give him a ridiculous fee.”
“Your definition of ridiculous and mine are not the same thing.” She grins, tapping her fingers on the armrest, clearly pleased with herself. “Before you ask, I already did. I asked for quadruple, plus all additional expenses incurred. He agreed.”
“He what ?”
“He. Agreed. I didn’t sign anything, of course. Not without your approval, a thorough vetting of the contract, his funding sources, that sort of thing. You know the drill. I can’t help it that they want to throw money at Nebula. Your brand is a hot commodity, after all. The least I can do is make sure this is legit. Judging by his eagerness to accept the terms, it all sounds too good to be true. Then again, that could be cynical Chloe speaking.”
I trust her judgment implicitly. Still, I ask, “What is quadruple?” She tells me the amount, and I take a deep breath, letting it sink in. “Just like that?”
If cynical Chloe says that feels too good to be true, then I trust her intuition.
She shrugs, unapologetic too. “That’s how badly he wants you. So, let me worry about whether or not it’s legit. I’ll send you what he envisioned for this project, so use this getaway as your excuse to get away from the Christmas madness and flex those creative muscles.” She pulls out her phone and scrolls through her contacts.
My brow shoots up. “I didn’t agree to anything yet. What are you doing?”
She brings the phone to her ear. “Fixing your problem.” Before I can ask what she means, the person on the other end answers. “Hey, Dad ! Quick question: now that Christmas is canceled, are you still planning on using the Vermont house this year?”
I freeze, my eyes widening.
Vermont?
She grins at me, tapping her fingers on the armrest as she listens to her father on the other end. “For a few days, maybe a week. I’m not sure yet. No, it’s not for me. It’s for a friend. It might be a work thing, so I’ll pay you.” She pauses, and I watch as she listens, her face lighting up even more. “Okay, so I won’t pay you. It’s still a huge ask, though.” Another pause. “Fine. It’s for Odette, my best friend. No, you don’t know her. You don’t know any of my friends because we live in different states and have different lives, but that’s beside the point.” Another pause, then, “Yeah, she hates Christmas and could really use some peace and quiet. Oh, and I was wondering — does the grand piano still work? And the recording studio?”
Recording studio?
I’m still processing what she’s saying when she adds, trying to make sense of where this is going, when Chloe throws me a quick thumbs-up, her grin widening. “Thanks again, Dad. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” She hangs up and turns to me with a triumphant smile. “Problem solved.”
I blink several times, my brain annoyingly slow on the uptake. “What just happened?”
“You’re going to Vermont,” she deadpans as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Why would I go there?”
Another shrug. “Duncan isn’t using his Vermont house this year.”
Is she for real?
“Because you and Caleb canceled on him at the last minute. Way to rub it in. And I don’t appreciate you using me to drive the dagger?—”
“Tell me you aren’t defending him ,” she cuts me off, sitting up suddenly. She crosses her hands over her chest, her gaze narrowing on mine. “Go on, I’m all ears.”
I don’t, because I understand where she’s coming from. Chloe and Caleb are estranged from their father, as am I from my grandparents. There’s a reason they both call him by his first name 99% of the time, with the moniker Dad being reserved for when the twins want to test the strength of that familial connection they wished didn’t exist. And I don’t know the man. I never met him, nor do I want to.
At the prolonged silence, Chloe’s expression softens. “Duncan will live, okay? After what he did to my mom, he deserves it. But that’s beside the point. When will you get it through your head that I’ll do anything for you? I’ll even grovel to him if that’s what it takes for you to get your creative mojo back.”
“Chloe…”
She waves me off. “It’s a house, it’s empty, and it’s free. Free- ish . I’ll bill Hollywood’s golden boy for your use of it. And trust me, it’s perfect.” I open my mouth to argue, but she barrels on. “Duncan has a grand piano in the living room, and he converted one of the guest rooms into a recording studio a couple of years ago. He puts one in all of his properties, just in case. This one might not be usable, but he always keeps the grand piano tuned. I’m telling you, it’s everything you need at such short notice.”
I glance down at the blurred-out music sheets in my hands, my mind spinning with the idea. Vermont. A grand piano. A recording studio. All the solitude I could ever want. It does sound too good to be true, but also... perfect. No holiday madness, no forced smiles, no expectations. Just me, some music, and space to breathe.
“I don’t know...” I murmur, but my resistance is faltering.
“Come on, O. You deserve this. When was the last time you did something for yourself?”
Honestly?
I can’t remember the last time I did anything just for me. Everything always revolves around work, Aurora, and other obligations... plus tons of guilt for not being able to do it all. Maybe a break — an actual break — is exactly what I need.
“Besides, it’s not like you’re running away from Aurora,” Chloe continues, “She’ll be in Paris for a few days, tops. You can still call her, FaceTime, whatever. But instead of sitting here and feeling miserable, you could actually enjoy the holiday on your own terms.”
I let out a slow breath, feeling a tiny spark of something — hope, maybe? Excitement? “Okay,” I say, the lone word surprising me as it slips out. “I’ll go to Vermont.”
“Excellent.” She winks, clearly pleased with herself. “Here’s the thing. Alex’s jet is already making a stop in Vermont for… ‘paperwork’, he said,” she puts air quotes around the word, “so you’re not getting out of this.”
“Why do I feel like I just got punked?”
“You did.” Her grin spreads wide, and she practically bounces in her seat. “Technically, you did say you wanted to meet him, so I’m killing two birds with one stone. And there is no shuttle. Alex is sending a car for us, it’ll be here in two hours. You need this break, and I’m not giving you any excuses to second-guess this or back out of it. Once you get there, you’ll have all the time you need to think or not think or whatever, just as long as you take care of yourself.”
I lean back in my chair, the idea of Vermont slowly settling in. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, feeling the weight on my shoulders lessen with each passing second. For the first time in a long time, the holidays don’t feel quite as suffocating. Maybe Chloe’s right. Maybe I do need this. The idea of a cozy Vermont house, just me and a piano, is suddenly more appealing than anything I’ve considered in weeks.
It could be exactly what I need.