Tyson felt every word like it was a blow to the chest. Daniel had only ever spoken to him once of his past, when they had sat together in a North Korean prison, dying of hunger and thirst. Daniel had been born on the streets of Rio de Janeiro to a prostitute who had sold him when he was old enough to make a few dollars for her. When he grew big enough to fight back, he’d killed his rapist and run away. He’d joined a street gang and survived by learning to pickpocket. He’d viciously worked his way up the gang until he was at the top and then he’d hired himself out as a mercenary. Determined never to fall victim to predators again, he’d become the best of the best of hired guerrilla fighters and travelled the world until he met Tyson King. A man with integrity, the only man he met worth saving and calling friend.
Daniel said heavily, “I’m too dark inside. Eventually I’ll hurt her, maybe kill her.”
Tyson shook his head. “You won’t. She’s light and beautiful, she can heal some of the dark if you let her.”
Daniel shook his head. “No. I’ll fuck her up. Already did. It’s better like this.”
Tyson wanted to disagree with his friend, but after seeing the heartbreak on Addison’s face he felt maybe she was better off without Daniel. He was a killer. Tyson couldn’t confidently say she was safe in the other man’s hands. No one could say that. Except Daniel. Until Daniel decided otherwise, Addison was safer without him.
Conversation over, Tyson stood and walked away from the best head of security money could buy. Too bad money couldn’t fix what was broken within him.
Chapter Twenty-One
6 weeks later
Sweat beaded Addison’s brow and she wondered if it was possible for all the bones in her wrist to spontaneously break so the misery of her current situation might finally end. Their spring performance was in less than a month and, according to Maestro, they were a masterpiece of a mess with Addison at the helm of their sinking ship.
For her part, Addison had no rhythm in her. She played as technically beautiful as always, but there was no soul, no effervescence, nothing that marked her music as uniquely hers. Everyone noticed, but no one knew what to say. Maestro threatened to revoke her position. He begged her to do better. He promised her his eternal gratitude and release from all future engagements if she simply found her damn music again. Still she played better than anyone else in his orchestra, so he couldn’t replace her.
As they played the last notes and Addison dropped her bow to her lap with a grateful sigh, heavy silence filled the room as they waited for the Maestro’s closing comments before they left for the day. He did not disappoint. He started with the woodwinds, moved to percussion, then brass and finished with the strings. Finally, he reached his First Chair.
“I expect more, Ms. Sterling, much more,” he said coldly. “This entire orchestra relies on you to lead them in each set, yet you continually fail. Not only do you fail to lead, you fail to stand out in any way. You are crippling your career and the careers of those around you by blending in. You will sink into obscurity if you continue on this path.”
He said the word blending like it was swear, causing Addison and several others to flinch. If there was one thing a musician never wanted to do, it was blend in. One needed to be seamless, yes, and of course, blend to a certain extent, but one must also bring their own unique sense of style and artistry to the music to really make it. Maestro’s insults drew blood.
“I expect you to remember who you are and the reason I made you the youngest First Chair in the history of this orchestra before I change my mind and remedy that particular mistake. I seem to remember taking a chance on a cellist, despite her not being a classic violinist. I did not expect to find a dishrag in my orchestra all these years later. Get it together, Ms. Sterling, before I do it for you,” he snapped angrily.
She blinked away tears as he dismissed the orchestra and strode angrily off the stage. A few people murmured their condolences knowing what it was like to be on the sharp end of Maestro’s tongue. Unfortunately, they all knew Addison hadn’t been playing her best for several weeks either. Maybe she needed a wake up call?
Sliding wearily out of the chair, Addison packed up her cello, pulled on her coat and made her way rapidly to the back door. She felt a little like a chastened child trying to slip away unnoticed, but there was little she could do about it. Unfortunately, there was one person who wasn’t going to let her go that easily.
“Addison, hold up!” Erica’s voice floated to her, just as her mittened hand touched the back door. So close to freedom!
If she had the ability to see, Addison would have simply waved at Erica like she hadn’t heard her properly, slipped out the door and run for the subway. Unfortunately, taking off with finesse wasn’t an option. Erica would be able to catch up. With a sigh, Addison turned and waited for the other woman to approach. Which she did, with the enthusiasm of a speeding train, catching Addison’s shoulder in a firm grip.
“Phew! What a session we had today,” she announced loudly, her high pitched voice carrying all down the hall and turning heads. Addison tried not be be annoyed at the way Erica made it sound like she was part of the orchestra though she wasn’t a musician. “Maestro Charles was sure cranky with you. I didn’t think it was fair of him at all to say those things to you in front of everyone. He could’ve at least taken you aside and said them in private.”
What a friend! Addison thought, very supportive.
“Oh well, you’ll take his advice to heart next time, I’m sure,” Erica encouraged. “Hey, do you need a ride home? We could grab a coffee or something.”
Addison tried to conceal any possible look of horror that might’ve sprung up on her face at the suggestion. Instead she said, truthfully, “I have an appointment, actually.”
“Oh, well… I can give you a ride then!” Erica tried to take Addison’s arm and guide her out the door, but Addison stood firm.
“No, thank you,” Addison said, not even bothering to add a note of cheer into her tones. She was done pretending for the day. “I prefer to go alone. I’ll see you tomorrow, Erica.”
Addison pulled her arm out of Erica’s grip, turned away and pushed her way out the back door. She tried to feel the usual twinge of regret that Erica had no friends and she was the closest thing Erica could claim as friendship, but after the verbal beating Maestro had subjected her to, Addison didn’t have enough regret to spare for Erica. She made her way down to the subway and took the line down to Jane’s office. She felt the gradual change in city quality as she drew closer to the crime-riddled end of downtown. It didn’t bother her to be there, except that she was carrying an extremely expensive instrument. She used to live not too far away from the stop where she eventually got off.
Addison couldn’t quite get the requisite steps and had to stop in at a local grocer to ask for directions. He was more than willing to help her reach her destination and, despite her protests, sent his stock girl to accompany Addison around the block to Jane’s office. She tried to tell him she would be fine, but he insisted. She suspected he was worried about a well dressed, visually impaired woman’s safety in that area. She almost wanted to tell him that she’d been attacked many more times in her own extremely “secure” apartment building in an upscale neighbourhood than she ever was in the so called dangerous area of downtown. Instead, she gratefully accepted his stock girl’s arm and listened to her bright chatter as she led Addison around the block.
“Do you collect admirers everywhere you go?” Jane drawled cynically, as Addison pushed the door to Jane’s office open and said good-bye to the girl. “Do I need to add that little brat to my list of suspects?”
Jane pulled a chair out for Addison and waited while Addison set her cello down with a grateful sigh, glad to be rid of the heavy burden. She unbuttoned her long coat, hung it up on the coat rack she remembered stood by the door, set her walking stick in the corner and sat in the proffered chair. After a moment, she allowed her body to sink into the chair with another long sigh and stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles comfortably.
“Long day?” Jane asked.
Addison nodded, stretching her arms in front of her to relieve some of the tension behind her neck and shoulders. “The longest,” she murmured. “I think I’m on my way to getting fired. Do you need an assistant by any chance?”
