Blizzard: A Paranormal Romance (Savage Brotherhood MC Book 2) Page 16

  “You’ll come in just there,” Glenda didn’t even look up. She simply began again. Eva took a shaky breath. Her whole body was beginning to break into a sweat, her stomach was clenching and she tried desperately to relax the muscles in her throat. She had to think of an excuse and be able to say it out loud without alerting Luciano to her distress.

  There was the same break in the music and Eva exhaled, willing herself into action.

  Eva put a hand to her mouth to keep her voice muffled on purpose.

  “I’m a little off today,” Eva whispered.

  “I can hear that.” Glenda looked up at Eva, taking off her glasses. So Glenda had been able to hear Eva’s troubles—not really a surprise, anyone could hear that there was something wrong with Eva’s voice box. “Has this ever happened before?”

  Eva could see that Glenda was asking the question that Luciano wanted the answer to.

  Eva shook her head no and looked away from Glenda’s eyes. She meant to tell the truth, she wanted to tell the truth, but she couldn’t. Telling the truth meant giving up Lucretia, giving up what might be her only chance to make it in the opera world, it meant giving up Ambrose.

  Singing was her life and even though her heart knew he was heartbreak, Eva couldn’t let Ambrose go.

  “Tea,” Eva tried to make the word clear. “I’ll be back.” She tried her best to look confident and not show how terrified she truly was. She should have made sure Ambrose was in the room before even entering, she should have asked someone ahead of time.

  Eva did her best to walk confidently from the room, then practically ran down the hall.

  Chapter Eight

  Once outside she felt the weight of the scene crash on her. She walked slowly down the street to a café, hoping the process would naturally take long enough for Ambrose to return from his interview. Undoubtedly Glenda and Luciano would not be sorry for her absence while she sounded like this.

  Eva sat down at a table to give herself even more time. A few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. Anything would be better than walking back into that room without Ambrose. She sipped at her tea and looked out onto the foot traffic traveling by.

  A tingling sensation went up her spine and she got the distinct feeling that she was being watched. Eva turned and looked at the patrons around her, she looked back out to the street.

  Not seeing anyone, she stood and left the café. Her heart was beating a little too fast and she remembered the feeling she’d had in the park before she had almost been pushed from a bridge. There was a weight sitting on her chest, but it was just from her embarrassment from the scene in the rehearsal room, wasn’t it?

  Eva stood back from the street, waiting for the light to turn. The longer she waited the more her body transition into panic mode. She looked back again but didn’t seen anything around her to panic about.

  Was this to be her life now, running from rehearsal rooms and looking over her shoulder at street corners?

  The light changed and Eva walked out into the street. She was moving fast now even though it meant she would get back to Glenda and Luciano that much faster.

  A light, cool breeze blew across Eva’s neck, she felt a terrible presence behind her but couldn’t force herself to turn and look again. Eva began to run, tea jostled out of the cup she was holding and she dropped it.

  From across the square Eva saw the light curls and tall, chiseled form of Ambrose moving toward the opera building.

  “Ambrose,” Eva yelled out across the square. Everyone in the square turned to her, including Ambrose. He smiled at Eva, ignoring the obvious panic she ran at him with.

  Eva ran straight into his body, pushing herself against him.

  “Is everything alright?” Eva felt Ambrose’s hand push back into her hair and she closed her eyes.

  “I felt…” she spoke into his shoulder, “the same things that I felt in the park—at least I think I did.”

  Ambrose’s lips were close to Eva’s forehead and she could feel the heat of his breath, “Nothing to worry about now, you’re safe here. Safe with me.”

  For days Eva had been picturing Ambrose entwined with other women, but despite all her lingering apprehensions she let herself go completely into him. She wanted to cry over her need for him, over the protection she hadn’t realized she’d been craving so desperately.

  “I couldn’t sing without you in the room, my voice…” Eva looked up at him. His eyes were softer than she’d expected. He looked…he looked at her with such tenderness, such all-encompassing care.

  “I’m back.” He squeezed her arm then stood back to look at her. “Come on,” he gestured with his head toward the entrance and Eva nodded. She followed him like a puppy up the stairs and into the rehearsal room.

  Glenda and Luciano looked up.

  “No tea?” Glenda raised her eyebrows.

  “I dropped it,” Eva flushed. She’d left her fallen cup on the street, she’d have to remember to pick it up and throw it away on her way out.

  “And your voice?” Luciano looked concerned.

  “It feels perfect now,” Eva with real confidence over to Glenda.

  The music lifted and flourished with Eva’s voice. Ambrose sang with her and the two voices together rose and twisted around one another, their sounds mingling, distinct and different, with the same flawless tones rising above anything Eva had ever heard before.

  “Just be sure you warm up next time,” Glenda smiled at Eva. Luciano also seemed to have lost all apprehension over Eva’s rough start to the day.

  “You are performing tonight?” Luciano asked Ambrose as the group cleaned up their empty paper cups, and strewn sheets of loose musical score.

  “No, we’re off tonight,” Ambrose said beginning for the door. “I have the sheets for the beginning of act three so I’ll give them a look over. Goodnight!” He raised a hand to Luciano and Glenda then held the door open for Eva.

  “Thank you for today, I feel like I could sing your music forever.” Eva smiled at Luciano who only looked vaguely flattered. It had become apparent to Eva that Luciano, and his perfectionist tendencies, would not permit too much in the way of self-congratulation. Eva was certain, that the older man would be making changes up until the day they opened, and maybe even after.

  The two walked down the darkened hall together. Eva smiled. It felt so right being next to him, she felt like she could manage this possible new life, like everything might work out in the end.

  “You sounded great today,” Ambrose said.

  “Is act three finished then?” Eva asked, thinking about Ambrose’s comments to Luciano.

  “It’s getting there, I can’t wait to look it over.”

  Eva wanted to reach down and take his hand but she just let her own hand dangle instead, just in case he was feeling the same impulse. She thought about suggesting that they look it over together, tonight, right that moment. They could go back to his building, or her building. Or maybe they could go to dinner, have some warm food and laugh the way they had on their first night together.

  The two walked into the night side by side. They said nothing but fell into step both breathing deeply.

  When they got to the steps leading down from the square Ambrose stopped. Eva turned to him thinking he might kiss her, might hold her, wrap an arm around her. But Ambrose turned away from her.

  “There you are,” he said to Tessa, who was strutting her way up the steps.

  Tessa stopped at the top step and winked at Ambrose. “You should have told me you were running late,” Her voice was petulant. The top she wore was tight and a mound of cleavage spilled over. She turned to look at Eva.

  “I don’t know if you’ve officially met,” Ambrose said, as he turned and looked between the two women. “Eva this is Tessa, Tessa this is Eva.”

  “The famous daughter.” Tessa put out a hand and Eva wanted to smack it away. The other woman’s face dripped with superiority and, no doubt, with the knowledge that Ambrose was going home with her tonight
.

  Eva lifted her chin and tried not to attack.

  “She’ll be famous in her own right, mark my words. You’ll have to hear her voice to believe me.” Ambrose focused his eyes on Eva. Tessa took the words in with a distasteful look that made Eva feel the slightest bit better.

  Eva extended her own hand back to the woman.

  When their skin met, Tessa’s hand was ice cold. Eva looked up at her with surprise. Did that mean she was one of them? Was she Ambrose’s girlfriend in the world of darkness he talked about?

  Tessa laughed at Eva’s expression then released her hand.

  “Come on, we’re already late, I made reservations.” Tessa focused her energy back on Ambrose, turning her shoulder only a few inches shy of Eva’s face.

  “Be safe getting home.” Ambrose gave her a meaningful look and Eva wanted to stomp on his foot. Instead, she turned away from the couple and walked down the steps without saying a word of goodbye.

  Eva was twenty feet away when she heard the grating female laugh come from her back. Eva didn’t dare turn around. She didn’t trust herself around that woman.

  If she saw that Tessa was laughing at her she might grab her by the neck—and if Tessa had even one quarter of the strength that Ambrose possessed, then that would a very bad move indeed.

  Chapter Nine

  Once Eva made it to end of the block she stopped and sat on a ledge.

  Was that all she was to people, the daughter of two people who had been famous? Were people talking about her in other circles? Would she come into rehearsals as a known quantity? And if so, then what if her voice disappeared? What if she weren’t able to sing? Would they all think it served her, right?

  The horror of the morning came back to Eva, the inability to speak, let alone sing. The way she’d felt when she’d been put on the spot by Luciano and Glenda. What if that happened again? It was bound to! Was she going to have Ambrose by her side every time she wanted or needed to sing?

  Eva stood from the ledge and waited for lights to change so she could take the subway home. Home was all she wanted. She wanted the comfort of her things, the comfort of beautiful music on the record player.

  “Eva!” The sound came from behind her and Eva turned to see Jerome running toward her. She smiled. His was just the face she wanted to see right now. “What are you doing here?” Jerome smiled broadly.

  “An impromptu rehearsal with Luciano,” Eva’s voice was cracked and broken.

  “You sang today?” Jerome looked incredulous and Eva felt the weight of all her problems fall down around her again.

  “Are you hungry?” Eva asked, suddenly craving some fresh pasta primavera or a savory onion tart.

  “Starving,” Jerome’s eyes grew wide.

  The pair moved off the main drag and into a little, neighborhood restaurant with only four tables.

  Eva and Jerome took the empty table closest to the window and to the street. Eva’s stomach growled loudly when they sat down and both of them laughed at the remarkable timing of her stomach.

  “I think I’ve been so worried about everything that I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.” She rubbed her hands together as she thought of all the dishes she wanted to order.

  “How are you singing through rehearsals with your voice the way it is?”

  Eva looked at her hands trying to think of some excuse, finally she looked up at him. “I don’t know. It’s…strange… like the night we went to Don Juan and then met Ambrose, sometimes my voice just comes.”

  “Sometimes?”

  “Most of the time it doesn’t…” Eva paused, trying to decide how much she should or could safely disclose to Jerome. “It’s really strange actually… whenever I’m with Ambrose my voice just—it works, perfectly, it doesn’t make sense but… probably just some psychosomatic thing…”

  Jerome seemed to contemplate this. “You’ve told Luciano Costantini about your problems though?”

  Eva felt called out. She’d known she should be open and upfront with the composer but it meant saying goodbye to too much.

  “Aren’t you worried he will find out? Or that you won’t be able to sing for him one day?” Jerome read her mind.

  “I want to tell him, I’m dying to tell him, but I can’t…this is…this is everything.” Eva swallowed hard.

  Jerome nodded and seemed to understand her reasoning. Wouldn’t he, after all, do the same thing if given the chance? He exhaled as he contemplated her predicament.

  “What have you been up to?” Eva tried to change the subject and in that Jerome seemed to read her mind as well, but he gave into it easily enough letting Eva off the hook.

  Jerome cheered Eva up with exaggerated stories of his botched auditions and his dire circumstances. He told her about the awful audition waiting rooms with seven men who looked just like him. He told her about Leslie’s new complaints, and they both discussed Bridget’s new gig.

  “I’m going to have to find a real job if I don’t book some work soon.” Jerome looked out the window and Eva thought how handsome he really was. It was strange that she’d never really noticed before.

  “Well you can always crash on my couch if you need to,” Eva said just before taking a bite off her plate. She’d filled up long ago, but the food was so good she just couldn’t help herself.

  “Dessert?” Jerome asked. Eva smiled back at him and nodded conspiratorially.

  After a triple layer chocolate cream cake, Jerome took Eva to an art deco movie theater that played a stream of art house movies, foreign films, and the classics. They watched a Jean-Luc Godard film from the sixties that made Eva laugh and left her with a burning desire to speak fluent French. Not that she was doing much speaking these days.

  After the movie Jerome insisted on seeing Eva back to her apartment and was grateful for the gesture and for his company.

  “You would look good with them,” Jerome conceded. They’d been talking about Anna Karina’s bangs in the movie.

  Eva took a chunk of her thick hair and twirled it up to give herself fake bangs, “Like this.”

  “If you want the full look you’ll need some blue eye shadow and some seriously winged eyeliner.”

  “And a cigarette, don’t forget the cigarette,” Eva mimed smoking, something she, or any other serious opera singer, would never do. “Of course I already sound like a smoker,” she sighed.

  Jerome nodded a little and looked both ways before leading Eva to cross the street.

  “Do you ever get too caught up in your roles?” Eva asked, looking up.

  “What do you mean? Like I sing Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly and suddenly find myself falling in love with a beautiful Geisha before throwing her over and leaving her to slit her own throat?” Jerome drew a fake knife across his neck before turning to Eva.

  “Yeah, like that,” she laughed in a raspy deep voice.

  They walked on quietly for a long moment.

  “Are you having a hard time drawing a line between yourself and Lucretia?” Jerome broke the comfortable silence.

  Eva waggled her head back and forth. A toddler ran past them and Eva saw the little girl’s mother down the sidewalk in hot pursuit. Jerome bent and lifted the little girl mid-run.

  “I think someone’s trying to catch you,” Jerome said to the baby, who giggled cheerfully at being apprehended. “Here you are,” Jerome handed off the child to her mother or nanny.

  “Thank you, she won’t go to sleep, I thought walking would wear her out but it seems to only have given her more energy.” The mother made a face as if to say, what can you do, then continued off down the sidewalk. “Are going to be a good girl and go to sleep?” They could hear the mother asking her child as they walked away.

  “No!” The baby shouted and laughed in a sweet, high-pitched reply.

  Jerome looked at Eva.

  “Isn’t it late?” she whispered to him.

  Jerome nodded, his nostrils flaring a little with amusement.

  “You are a natural wi
th children, if you don’t book something soon you could always be a manny,” she teased.

  “Two little brothers and a little sister force you to be good with children.” Jerome turned back to Eva, “But you were telling me about your role.”

  “It’s stupid,” Eva fluttered a hand in front of her.

  “No, tell me.”

  Eva contemplated Jerome’s face. “Ok, let’s say you had two choices in front of you. You have the choice to move to… some other country where you don’t know the language, the laws, the customs, and you wouldn’t be allowed to visit before deciding either. You would have to live there for the rest of your life once you moved, you could never go back… but you would be able to sing perfectly, have an acclaimed career, and never stop singing. Or you could stay at home, but you would never be able to sing again…you might become depressed, you might even…” Eva drew a fake dagger across her own neck. “Which would you choose?”

  Jerome whistled, “Geez, that’s quite a question.”

  “And you have to decide before we get the next intersection,” Eva added.

  “Ok, ok,” Jerome nodded and looked at the ground while he walked forward. “Would I be happy in the other country?”

  “You can’t know that until you get there,” Eva spread her fingers.

  “Of course not,” Jerome rolled his eyes, “and once I was there I would be there forever.”

  “Right.”

  Eva watched his face as they walked—it was a hard question to answer, she knew that better than anyone.

  “I don’t know, I’m not sure I could choose a life without singing,” he looked up. “But I’m not sure I could live a life removed from everything I know and…love.” He stopped walking and looked into Eva’s face.

  Eva felt the mood of his words and saw the changes in his body and face. She had an impulse to reach out and cover Jerome’s mouth, to stop him from saying anymore, but she didn’t. She looked at him with limp hands and a quickly beating heart.

  “This is probably a really bad time to tell you this—but, Eva, I—”