Dissonance (35 page)

Breathe. Relax.

He played the opening phrases of the piece, slow and measured in the left hand, the sweet, simple melody in the right. By the time he got to the second page, he realized he didn’t need the music. He remembered this too. The feel of the music resonating through his body, the satisfaction that
he
had created it. Better than a meditation, the music became his body, and the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders eased with each passing measure. His heart rate slowed, and the tiny part of him that clung to the heat of his confrontation with Duncan let go. Just let go, like a wicked light going out.

An hour later, having played the entire sonata, he pulled his mobile out and tapped one of the presets.

“David, it’s Cam.”

“Cam. I just heard about Duncan. I’m sorry.” David sounded worried.

“Don’t be,” Cam told him. “I’d expected it.”

“I see.”

Cam knew he’d need to explain the details, but he wasn’t ready to do that over the phone. “Listen, David. I know you’re probably busy, but I was hoping I might speak to you at some point. In person.”

“I’ve got the entire evening free,” David said. “Alex just left for rehearsals in Barcelona, and I’ve got nothing planned. Why don’t you stop by?”

“B
RANDY
?” D
AVID
said as he held the cut crystal carafe over two snifters.

“Thank you.”

David smiled and motioned Cam to take a seat on the couch, then handed him a glass and sat facing him. “I’m glad you called me when you were back in New York. Alex and I were worried when we heard you’d disappeared.”

“My mother?”

David nodded. “I know things are strained between you, but she genuinely does care what happens to you.”

“I know. What’s the saying? ‘You can choose your friends’?” Cam knew well that David’s relationship with his grandfather—the only father he’d ever truly known—hadn’t been the best.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” David said after a slight pause, “do you believe the charges against Duncan are true?”

“Another reason to choose friends over family.” Cam forced himself to breathe through the tension in his body. “Seems he thought I’d make a good scapegoat. And I did what everyone expected I would do. I went and got myself into more trouble.”

“I truly am sorry, Cam.”

Cam wouldn’t tell David about the rest of it. Perhaps someday he’d have the courage, but for now…. Cam took a gulp of his cognac to steady his nerves. It was all still too close. Too raw. Too unsettling.

“But there’s something on your mind, isn’t there?” David raised his glass and took a sip.

“I want—no, I
need
to know more about Galen,” Cam blurted. “He went back to the US and I’m about to lose my mind.”

“I thought that might be why you called.” When Cam opened his lips to protest, David shook his head. “You should never be embarrassed to ask for what you want. Especially in matters of the heart.”

David’s formal language made Cam smile just a little. “Thank you. I’m not sure where to turn or what to think right now.”

David chuckled. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I find it amusing that you’d tell me that when at one time,
I
was the cause of the same sort of turmoil for Alex.”

“Really?” This surprised Cam. David and Alex had seemed to fit together perfectly from the first time he’d seen them together.

“Let’s just say that I caused Alex a great deal of grief when we first met. Fortunately, he’s long forgiven me, even if I still regret it.” Pain glittered in David’s eyes. “But you didn’t come here to ask me about my relationship. How can I help you with Galen?”

“Tell me about him? I know so little. I know it’s only my fault, since I never asked him, but I want to understand.” Cam hoped he was making sense, because he wasn’t sure he even knew
what
he needed to understand. He took a sip of his brandy and leaned back against the pillows. “You said he played with the Chicago Symphony.”

“Galen was a prodigy. I’d heard him play in Indianapolis about a year before, and I knew I had to bring him to Chicago. By then he’d played all over the country, although he’d not yet played with any of the larger orchestras. He’d appeared on several late-night talk shows on the West Coast, and he’d made the rounds of some of the jazz circuits.

“The CSO began a series for rising young artists under John Fuchs’s tenure. Galen was one of the first young musicians I brought in when I took over from him. He played the Haydn Trumpet Concerto, and I remember being floored by the performance.” David’s expression made Cam wonder if he could still hear the echoes more than ten years later.

“I met him in the subway,” Cam said with a smile as he recalled the first time he’d noticed Galen. “I still don’t understand why he played there.”

“Being anonymous has its advantages. Fame is a burden to most.”

“How do
you
handle it?” Cam asked, genuinely curious now.

David laughed. “Most people don’t recognize me when I’m not dressed in tails and waving my hands in front of an orchestra.”

“Fair enough.” Cam had never thought David seemed uncomfortable with his success. “Then how does Alex handle it?”

“I wish I knew.” David smiled. “I’m not sure handling it is the key. There’s something in how he’s wired. Something in his personality. He’s comfortable in his own skin, and he doesn’t need anyone to tell him if his performance is adequate. In my experience, the artists who are successful over time are like that.”

“Do you know anything about Galen’s family?”

“He hasn’t told you?” David asked, appearing confused.

“I’m beginning to realize he didn’t tell me much of anything.” Why was Galen so bloody exasperating? “The first I heard about his solo career was when we came to your party.”

“His parents were friends of my parents,” David said. “Country club friends. A few years younger than my parents, but they spent a great deal of time together before my parents died.”

Cam stared at David. Of course he’d guessed Galen’s family had money. The way Galen acted around people with means, the way he’d comfortably mingled at David’s party. How he’d said he didn’t worry much about money after the school system suspended him. “I had no idea.”

“Old family out of Boston. Our fathers played polo together.”

“Polo?”

David nodded. “The Arendales raised their own horses for the sport.”

“And Galen?”

“He never seemed very comfortable with his family’s wealth.” David ran a hand through his hair. “I know the feeling well.”

Cam frowned in growing recognition. Why had he never noticed that about David, even after knowing him so long? The small voice in his head that had gotten louder over the past few weeks said,
You never took the time to understand
.

David’s lips parted and his brow knitted. Then, just as quickly, his expression changed to one of recognition, and the corners of his mouth edged upward. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“I know,” Cam said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Not the best choice for him.”
Or anyone, for that matter.

“You sell yourself short. You always have. I—” David hesitated for just a moment. “—know the type.”

“You’re nothing like me. You know what I’ve do—”

“People change.
You’ve
changed. Sometimes it takes losing something important to make changes happen.”

Aiden.
Cam supposed David was right. “I don’t want to lose Galen like I lost Aiden. But I’m not sure what to do.”

“You know I can’t tell you what to do.” David smiled openly this time. “But I can tell you that nothing happens by itself.”

New York, New York

Three weeks later

C
AM
’
S
FLIGHT
from London had arrived late Thursday morning, and there’d been a limo waiting to take him into the city. For once he hadn’t pulled out his phone to make the obligatory calls arranging evening plans. Instead he’d just watched the Manhattan skyline from the window.

“Lord Sherrington,” Luisa exclaimed as he walked into the apartment. “I was so worried about you.” She burst into tears. “When they came… the police…. I…,” she said between gasps.

He smiled, then stopped fighting the urge to hug her and just did it. “Hush,” he said as he patted her back. “I’m fine. I really am.”

He napped while she made him dinner; then he showered and dressed in jeans and a New York Yankees T-shirt he’d picked up at the airport. He couldn’t deny he’d bought the shirt because it reminded him of one Galen had worn. Maybe that made him a sap, but he didn’t give a damn.

“Join me?” he asked Luisa when he walked into the kitchen to find a single lonely place setting.

“My lord?” She stared at him as though she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“For dinner.” He offered her a reassuring smile. “I don’t want to eat alone.”

As often happened when he spoke to her, her cheeks pinked in response. She didn’t argue, though, instead setting a second place at the counter. Five minutes later, they sat side by side and ate the wonderful spinach pie she’d baked.

“This is one of my favorites,” he said after savoring a bite or two.

Her blush deepened. “I know.”

“Thank you,” he said. “For welcoming me home.”

“Do you think of this as home?” she asked.

He hadn’t even realized he’d called it that. If someone had asked him point-blank whether he thought of New York as home, he’d have said no. But this last trip to London, even the house hadn’t felt like home.

“Yes,” he said. “I suppose I do.”

Her smile was radiant. “I’m glad. I’d hoped you’d say that.”

T
HE
NEXT
morning dawned bright and cool over Manhattan. For the first time in days, Cam didn’t sleep in late. He went for a walk in Central Park, then stopped for coffee and a pastry at a small restaurant near his apartment.

As he’d done the day before, he tried calling Galen at home and on his cell. Galen hadn’t answered either, and Cam had left a brief message asking Galen to call him back. He doubted Galen would. He spent the rest of the morning working from his computer. The board of directors had agreed to appoint him as interim CEO during Duncan’s absence, which looked increasingly as though it would be permanent. The board members, no doubt nervous over the allegations of money laundering against Duncan, were eager for someone to lead the company through the crisis.

“Lunch was wonderful, Luisa,” Cam said as she retrieved his empty plate from his desk.

Luisa beamed. “Will you be back for dinner tonight?”

He pressed his lips together and released a soft breath. “I’m afraid I’m headed back to London this evening.”

“London? But you just arrived here three days ago.”

“I was hoping to stay a bit longer,” he said wistfully, “but I have a few things there I need to see to. I plan on returning in a few weeks, though.”

“I’m glad to hear that, my lord.”

“Call me Cam. Please.”

“I…. I don’t know if I can do that, my lord,” she said.

“I’d like you to, Luisa.”

Her cheeks pinked as she nodded.

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.” He got up from the table, hesitated a moment, then hugged her. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For taking such good care of me.”

A moment later, she scurried out of the room. He knew he’d embarrassed her, but he also knew she was pleased. He’d told her the truth: he had work he needed to take care of in London. And in spite of Galen’s brush-off—he knew one when he saw one—he intended to return as soon as he could. He might not know what he’d be doing a month or two in the future, but whatever it was, he knew he’d be spending more time in New York.

He glanced at his watch. Noon.
Plenty of time
. He took a cab, though, just to be safe. He handed the driver a twenty, then opened the door and looked up to see the familiar neon sign:
Buy. Sell. Pawn
. The sign flashed, an echo of the brightness he remembered.

The empty store seemed smaller than before. The same bald man who’d given him next to nothing for the silver pen stood behind the counter. “May I help you, sir?” he asked.

Cam repressed a smile to realize the man didn’t recognize him. Whether because he had many people come through the store or because down-on-his-luck, disheveled Cam had been unremarkable, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. He hadn’t come here to prove anything.

“I pawned a pen,” he told the man, whose eyes widened in obvious recognition when he heard Cam speak. The accent, no doubt. “I’d like to buy it back.”

“I…. Of course,” the clerk said. He scurried off, then returned a few minutes later with a small box, which he handed to Cam.

Cam opened the top and took the pen out. The silver warmed to his touch, and he knew this pen would never sit in the display case along with the others. He would use this pen. And each time he used it, he’d remember David and Alex and the true friendship they’d offered him.