Page 36 of Play Me

Chapter Twelve

SEBASTIAN

It’s been two weeks since we started rehearsals for the new album, and I think I deserve some sort of medal for keeping my hands off of Cadence. Almost ten rehearsal sessions of me sitting there alternating between thinking of taking her in every position known to red-blooded mankind and then visualizing Weird Al Yankovic in a teddy and rotting meat to stop the effect that thinking of fucking her has on my cock.

Every sound, every word, every move she makes drives me fucking insane. The way her hair falls down her back, the soft bounce of her hips when she walks, her ass swaying to the music on the piano stool. Every little movement is torture to me. And she’s the only one who can relieve it.

Is this the age old effect of just not getting what you want? Because if it is, with this contract in place, I can’t see me getting any relief any time soon.

It doesn’t help that the other guys adore her. Because now I couldn’t get rid of her if I tried. She’s hardworking, passionate and just as talented as any of us. After long days at work, she comes and works until one of us begs Dennis to let us stop; never complaining, never stopping. Every rehearsal, she walks in here having taken everything we’ve suggested on board and worked on it. And every rehearsal she walks out, and I have to do everything in my power not to chase after her. Tell her, beg her not to leave.

Sometimes I also visualize me throwing her over my shoulder and dragging her back to my room like a caveman, but mostly, I just want to be with her, around her. Around her infectious endless positivity, her sharp and bright outlook on life.

She’s done exactly what I’d hoped she would, breathe life back into our band. Reminding us how lucky we are to be doing what we’re doing, and the life it allows us.

A few nights ago, almost falling asleep exhausted from our rehearsal schedule, I let the deal slip to Marius. Surprisingly, he didn’t find it too shocking All he said was, “Good thing she can actually play.”

Well, that and, “Don’t fuck it up.”

If he means professionally, well, that’s up to her.

If he means personally, I think it’s too late for that.

***

“Sebastian, can I talk to you alone for a moment?” Cadence comes up to me after we’ve packed up our instruments for the day. It’s the first time she’s initiated any individual conversation with me and I can’t help but be a little surprised. My pause must have confused her and her face is closing up, as if she’s embarrassed to have bothered me.

“Oh, sorr-...” she starts and turns away.

On instinct I reach out and grab her gently around the wrist. She doesn’t shake me off. “No. Sorry, I was just daydreaming. Of course we can talk.” I lead her over to a quiet corner of the room, away from the guys chatting in the living area. “What can I help you with?”

She looks up at me, and for the first time in weeks, I’m staring down into her eyes again. Their oak brown depths are endless and in seconds I’m already getting lost in them.

“I have something for you,” she says and I notice her holding a flat brown paper bag.

“Oh. What is it?” I can’t guess what it might be, and I can’t think of any reason she’d be giving me something.

“It’s, ah, it’s actually, from me and the kids in the orchestra. Um, kinda like, ah, an early thank you.”

I’m shocked. I don’t know what she’s told them, but I’m surprised that she’s told them anything at all. I guess she has no doubt that I’ll follow through with my promise. I can’t believe the confidence she has in me if that’s the case.

“A thank you? For what?”

She doesn’t smile, but something flickers in her eyes that fills me with warmth. A look of deep appreciation. One I can’t imagine that I deserve.

“For giving us hope.”

“Cadence...” What is it about this woman that touches the very core of me?

“I haven’t promised them anything yet, I just told them, it’s possible that someone may be answering our prayers.”

I lean in, wanting her to hear every word, “You know I have no intention of ever breaking the deal we’ve made, right? You can count on that money.”

“I know.” And I hear it in her voice, she really does.

“Good.” I smile. “Now, are you actually going to give me my gift?”

She laughs and it’s like a fucking nightingale singing, and hands the small bag to me. “We’ve been practicing this over the last few days. The kids came in early to record it this morning. Sorry about the blurry video, we just did it on my iPhone.”