And that middle aged man is Lloyd. I have no idea of knowing the rest of others.
I nervously pull the chair to sit.
Lloyd orders them, "Let's not crowd her. We've asked her for a discussion today."
He glances at her way signing her to continue.
She asks a young man to bring us tea. "Yes, about that..." She says, "Let's talk in private."
After 15 minutes of hearing them what I realise is that I'm getting some extra time as I hoped. They were in a bit of a pickle so they had to reschedule. But it's still in August—just postponed to 30.
I agreed immediately when they brought the matter to me.
"We'd like you to perform the long awaited piece, Loretta," Lloyd states.
"Uh right now?" I try not to sound a little panicked. "Didn't you guys..."
Without letting me finish he goes, "But shouldn't we atleast hear what exactly you'll be performing?"
I sigh. Guess I'll play it again today. Atleast it'll help me with the final preparation. I find my fingers creeping towards the keys.
"So? Is it what I think it is?" She asks.
"Maybe?" I smirk.
Lloyd whispers to her, "Death of a Nightingale."
As I keep playing their mild whispers along with few gasps and praises reach my ears.
But my fingers ache every now and then whenever I play. And then I don't feel like doing it anymore. Sometimes I feel myself quivering and fear others will catch it. And I hate this quiet perturbation.
When I finish, I hear an approving applause. I remove some sweaty hair from my forehead.
"Oh it's exactly as I imagined it'd be. Don't you agree Ana?"
So that's her name.
She nods at Lloyd. "Indeed...what a melancholy tranquil piece you've forged here."
"But I still need to ask this, do you feel alright Miss Loretta?" Someone else asks. "I mean it's been a while since you..."
They're quite the observants. I draw in a breath. "I appreciate your concern, but it's nothing I can't handle." A lot of things happened in the past. In her life and in my own. I'd rather keep it to myself forever.
"She's headstrong as ever," another young man speaks. He couldn't be more than 30.
"Isn't she a fireball, Morgan?" Lloyd smiles at that man. He should be the record producer.
Morgan returns his smile. "Although I've never poked at anyone's private matters, words are flying around still... If you know what I mean."
"Don't beat around the bush Morgan," I raise my head to address them looking straight, staying in the exact character that I'm supposed to play.
"It's what you think it is Loretta."
"Yes, a lot of things reached my ears in the past few weeks. But I'm an artist just like any and people will always speak. My personal life should not be of anyone's concern." I raise my voice with an intimidating stare. "I've promised to not remind myself a thing regarding the incident of July 9. And I expect every one of you to respect that."
Their eyes shimmer with a different kind of admiration. "Sure we can do that," says Morgan.
"Also," I state, "I've taken a serious break from my love life. Nothing to speculate or talk about anymore. Now that I've said it I have nothing to hide. Lfe as a pianist and as the girlfriend of a singer... things get easily complicated. This is how it has always been from decades and centuries. Nothing new. So I decided to steer myself away from all the distractions to focus on myself for atleast once in my life."
"Then about the thing with Aiden Jordan..." Ana stops when she see my tightened fists.
"Soon things will be out of fog." I take in a slow breath. "I'm done here today, right?"
"Of course." Ana says. "Let me see you out."
Levi arrives 5 minutes later. I already messaged him a while ago.
"And..."
"And?"
"What did thay say?" He fastens the seat belt on me.
I couldn't help recall my first time in his car. It feels weird how quickly I'm getting used to things— to him.
"Hey?"
"Ah yes... They weren't used to me not having around I guess?" I say, "They said I was missed. Oh and the concert is on August 30 now. The date has changed."
"Good to know. You'll get more time to practice. Just so things turn out perfectly."
"Right. Was Nero home by the way? What about Aiden, is he back yet?"
Why do I feel like I shouldnt have asked that.
"Don't know about Nero but Aiden..."
"What about him?"
"I don't know if I should say this to you..."
I grab his shoulders and look at him intently.
"Uh.. he's out with Anne. Having dinner."
"O-oh." I shift in my seat. I detect a little uneasiness in my voice when I say that.
"Mm?" He squints his eyes at me. "You have no problem with that?"
"We're not together anymore...Levi." However easily I state that it's not very outspoken. It's as if I still am unsure of what to feel and how to feel it.
"I want to help him because I know..."
"That he's innocent," he completes my sentence.
He becomes silent and I get lost my own thoughts again. Nero knows this too. Then why he's being distant? Of course I'm not her but no-one except me knows that. Why I find such deep sorrow in his eyes?
••••
I don't see Nero when we reach home. I indulge myself with a cup of coffee and a book in hand. My fingers are tired from pressing those keys. What if I write a story... about what happened to me?
You may think she can easily be a pianist and a writer both, right? No. That's the problem.
Still I ache to risk it. Just for a second. I had already gotten a great plotline for a mystery tragedy a week before that fateful day in the miserable life of Morana Kingsley.
Can I have luck in this life? I guess not. Otherwise why would I be in this tangled mess?
I turn the cover page of a medium sized notebook which was kept on that dest earlier. It's all blank. But some of the last pages are ripped off. Who does this to a new notebook? Did she plan to write some last minute note then thought it was a bad Idea and ripped them off? Nevermind.
I take it to the bed to write the plotline that's still circling inside my head.
But as soon as the tip spins to form the words I want, a sharp ache shoots across my sternum.
"Hnngh!" The bedsheet gets curled in my first. I bent over holding my chest. "Ugghhn!! A agonised groan comes out from me.
"Hey can I take a— " Levi's voice hangs mid air when he sees me. "What on earth!"
What was he going to say?
He bolts at me with crooked eyebrows. "Are you alright?!" One of his hands goes to my forearm and the other on my back—getting me in a sitting position.
The pain doesn't go away fully but now I am able to sit straight. His hands drift lower to rest on the back of my palm. "You scared me Loretta. What happened to you?"
I don't find the correct answer to reply to him. Arkan did warn me about this. There will be consequences if I try to break the rules. But he didn't disclose it then.
"What were you going to write there?" He snatches the pen from me. "You aren't taking those again right?"
Taking what exactly? Was she on drugs or something? Gosh I'm doomed again. When I asked all he ever said about her was that someone had played a small role in her death. But what exactly caused it I have no clue. I guess it's another mystery to me.
I shake my head for the sake of replying to whatever he's asked and I'm with zero idea. "I've quit."
"Hm. Barbiturates never did good to anybody. People get addicted leading to their demise."
So she was on drugs. Okay! I know a thing or two about this drug. Famous people get high which often leads to overdose. But why did she ever start taking it?
"Perhaps you had a keen idea why I began... Nevermind." I try to trick him into telling me what I want to know.
"Lore-tta." His voice drops. "It concerned me deeply when I came to know of things. Things that kept your mind occupied... restless. You started having insomnia. You remember we had that argument over this thing? Among many other regular irregular, direct or indirect altercations." He stands up abruptly with a deep frown. "And then... and then..!" He moves over to the desk placing his hands firmly over it.
I move to him. "I walked out of that phase Levi," I place my hand over his quivering hands then squeeze his palm. "And I don't intend to crawl back there anytime soon."
Levi finally leaves after I manage to convince him that I'm really fine. Then I banish the thought of writing and take the book which I was reading earlier.
Wait. The contract papers! How did it slip out of my head?
I pull them out of the file bag to go through it.
Hm... Loretta signed this contract with Lloyd Ford and Morgan Payne when she was 15. The contract will expire once she turns 21. During this time she won't be able to work with another party.
I find all the reasonable and usual rules and regulations of the contract. I wonder if she had good relationship with everyone in the studio. I mean they didn't have a hand in what happened to her right? She didn't really have much 'Friends' and by this word I mean someone like Levi or those other two guys. Not those three bitches. I don't even want to call them human. She really needed more good people in her life. Or atleast someone she could trust with her life.
If we met... Perhaps we could become a good pair of friends. But that too would depend on circumstances. I never trusted a soul in my life.
I secure them back in the file and put it away.
Lying down on bed I continue staring at the little piece of paper on which those words "To my beloved son Nero..." we're written.
Suddenly a figure barges into my room and the impact makes me so frightened that I quickly fold my hands hiding it behind me.
"Nero?? Do you need something?" I'm caught off guard really bad.
He notices that too but doesn't ask me about it. There's that look again—a well of untold sorrows.
I hide the paper stealthily under the side pillows which was behind me.
"Can I get some of your time?" He asks wringing his hands.
I pull him to seat on the bed beside me.
He flinches a little at my touch. I see orange, reds, and blues on his fingertips and nails, even some splatters on his shirt. He was making something. Then why come to me at this hour leaving his work? He got back 2 hours ago. It's 10p.m now. It's odd for him to visit me this time—unless he wanted to show me the painting he's made.
Aiden told me he'd meet me at 7 today but still hasn't and I don't think he will. I feel a faint itching about him going to Anne's.
"Do you want to show me your painting?"
His big greyish pupils dilate in mild awe. "How could you tell?"
"Well... there was eagerness in your eyes and a little anticipation. You barged in my room this late— Nero, you can be so deeply attached to this passion of yours, you didn't even wipe the colors off of your hands.