Twenty-Three
Empty breakfastplates littered the nightstand. Sebastian drained his coffee cup and placed it amid the pile. Seemed he’d loosened up his neatness. Then again, no one would scream at him for not immediately cleaning up the mess—may Charles rot in Hell.
“I want you to hear something.” Henri padded across the bedroom floor naked, toes squeaking across cold marble, so different from the hardwood of Sebastian’s home. He preferred the hardwood. After adjusting the stereo and inserting a disk, he stood, arms across his chest, to study his lounging guest.
The pristine white sheets of Henri’s bed enhanced Seb’s coloring, bringing out the copper highlights in his hair. “What are we listening to?”
“You’ll see.” Recently, guitar players had blended together in Henri’s mind, but from the first chord of the recording, he recognized Michael’s distinctive flair. If only Margo hadn’t ditched him years ago.
Jake followed behind Michael; two different musicians with different styles circled each other musically and came together in a meeting of minds. Together the newfound accord welcomed Colton’s keyboarding, and then Tessa’s bowls, the haunting ring adding a touch of the odd that fit perfectly with the song.
A male voice sang, “Ethereal. She’s ethereal….”
“That’s not you,” Seb commented.
“No, it’s not.” He said no more. Head cocked to the side, Seb listened. The song wound down, the musicians dropping off until only Tessa remained. Henri hadn’t even provided backup. The last note held. Voice a mere whisper, Tessa sang, “She’s ethereal,” her silken tones evoking the words she uttered.
Sebastian smiled. “Gorgeous. Is this some new band you’ve discovered?”
“No, it’s my band, showing what they’re capable of without me.”
“And you don’t mind?”
“Of course not. They’re talented in their own right. I don’t mind giving them the spotlight on occasion.” Something he’d never done with his old band.
Sebastian snorted. “You’d never make an opera diva.”
No, Henri supposed not. “I’ve got something to show you now.”
He turned on the big-screen television he seldom watched, never being home much, and sat next to Seb on the bed. He clicked the remote. The song started again, this time with Henri singing lead.
A tree’s branches swayed in time with a swing rocking back and forth. Tessa wore a flowing green dress, and elf ears peeked through her hair. Flowers decorated corkscrew curls. Behind her and the swing, Michael appeared in silver, giving her a gentle push. He faded in and out of sight, a nod to his accidental Starman persona. Up in the tree Jake plied his trade, a lute magically moaning out the bass line, while Colton, dressed as a medieval knight, lounged beneath the branches.
“The theme wasn’t my idea.” Henri had questioned the whole concept at first. What kind of video was this for a serious rock album? Tessa loved it. Tessa, the heart and soul of Mismatched Delusions. The nurturer. She wanted this video with elves and fairies? Henri would deliver on a silver platter, as would the rest of the band.
The camera focused on the fairy maiden, following her across a meadow. Wand in hand, she seemingly played the swaying flowers towering above her, the sweet music of her bowls emanating from their petals.
A boat ferried her across a crystal lake, the faces of her bandmates reflected momentarily in the looking-glass surface. The song ended with her lying in the boat, hand folded over her breasts and eyes closed as she whispered, “She’s ethereal.”
“Wow, reminds me of ‘The Lady of Shalott.’” Sebastian had been lying back with his head on the pillow. Now he sat on the end of the bed, staring at the TV screen. “That’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” Time to take a chance. “You said you wanted to rebuild your life on your own, but I have a huge favor to ask of you.” More than a favor. Henri simply didn’t trust anyone else with this all-important assignment.
“What?”
“You heard the raw version, with Michael singing.”
“Yes.”
“This is his song, not mine.” Henri took a deep breath. “He should sing on the video and on the CD. Not me. Can you help him?”
“I’m not a music teacher. I’m too young, too raw. I could recommend someone.”
“I don’t want anyone else. And it’s more than teaching I’m hoping for. Michael’s extremely shy and will need lots of convincing of how talented he is. I’m not going to get what I want from any old teacher. I believe I will get the kind of coaching he needs from you. What do you say? I’ll pay you, of course.”
Blood rushed to Sebastian’s face. “Oh, this is another way to sneak me a handout, is it?”
“No. It’s an honest business arrangement. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, and want you to work with Michael, as a trial. If everything goes well, I’ll ask you to take on Tessa and Jake too.” As good as they were now, under Sebastian’s instruction, they’d thrive.
