Starbright (47 page)

“Joe, you did it!” She wrapped her arms around him.

“Mary, this is only the beginning for us.” He tightened his embrace, his grin widening. “Darling, you and I are heading all the way to the top.”

Amongst the enthusiastic arena, Joe brushed his lips to hers in a tender display of unconditional love without the need for secrecy. The passion in his kiss rendered her blissfully breathless. As the crowd cheered over their characters’ relationship, Beth hoped that one day soon this would be their reality.

With confidence shaky enough to register on the Richter scale, Aidan placed his car keys in his pocket and walked into RCA Victor’s Los Angeles division. In the lobby, he cleared his entry with security and then traveled down a hallway to studio C. The red light was on and the do-not-enter sign illuminated, indicating recording was in progress.

Following his instructions, he entered quietly and took a seat beside the middle-aged man stationed between the soundboard and a machine with two moving tape reels. Glass partitioned the room. Matthew stood on the other side of the glass, wearing headphones and singing into a circular microphone with RCA emblazoned across the top of it in silver letters. His voice carried clearly through the speakers mounted above the soundboard.

On Aidan’s side, the needles flickered in the volume unit meter, responding to the tone of Matthew’s voice. As he watched his friend, he refused to acknowledge the piano situated in the corner. They would become acquainted soon enough, much to his deep apprehension.

Coming into the studio today was a big step for Aidan. Playing in front of Beth was nerve wracking enough, but performing in front of Matthew was another matter entirely. Unfortunately, it was his only option if he wanted Beth to own a copy of their song for Valentine’s Day.

The producer nodded a greeting at Aidan and raised the volume on Matthew’s vocals.

Shinin’ bright,

With golden pride.

In the ring,

Your talent will sing.

Back to the top,

You will go.

Show them what you’ve got,

Reach for the rainbow.

The lyrics were corny, but Matthew’s soulful voice added respectability to the song. It was sure to be a hit with
Golden Gloves
’ audience.

Matthew elongated the final word and then fell into silence. When the tape reels stopped, he removed his headphones and grinned.

“Hey, Evans. Aren’t I an amazing singer? Come on, you gotta admit it.”

The producer swiveled his microphone to Aidan.

He leaned into it to reply. “It’s all about making me look good, Matt. So do whatever you gotta do to accomplish that.”

“That’s a good one.” Matthew winked at the producer. “Don’t you think, Chuck?”

Chuck laughed and angled the microphone back to himself. “All right, you clown, that’s it for today.” He flicked another switch and looked at Aidan as Matthew walked over to their side of the glass. “Okay, kid, you’re up next.”

Aidan stood from his chair with great difficulty. His dread weighed him down, rivaling the punishment Zeus bestowed upon Atlas. He greeted Matthew with a firm handshake, hoping his friend wouldn’t notice his sweaty palm.

Matthew grabbed Aidan’s chin and inspected his face. “It’s only been a few days, but man, your busted lip healed great.” He shook his head with a wry smile. “If only I could’ve seen you take that punch.”

Aidan pulled away from Matthew’s grasp, his lips turned up in a smirk. “I miscalculated Claude’s distance, that’s all. I still have the ability to beat you in a brawl any day, any time.”

Matthew held up his fists, his expression set with mock toughness. “I know I have the voice of an angel, but these hands are the hands of a warrior.”

Aidan chuckled.

“So, are you excited about laying down your first track?”

The amusement dropped from Aidan’s face. “Yeah, about that…”

Matthew’s eyebrows pinched together. “What is it?”

Aidan gave an anxious tug on his T-shirt collar. “Listen, uh… is an audience necessary?”

“What are you talking about?”

Aidan nudged his chin in Chuck’s direction.

Matthew frowned. “I don’t know how to work the equipment, so he’s gotta be here. What’s the big deal, anyway?”

Aidan shrugged, trying to act cool. “I just don’t want word to get out that I play, you know?”

Matthew placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to tell him to keep this a secret.”

“Thanks.” Aidan exhaled a deep breath and walked into the adjoining room. He ducked to avoid the boom microphone and sat down at the piano.

“Now, Aidan, this may take a few tries since you’ve never recorded anything before,” Chuck said into the microphone. “When you hear my voice, stop playing, and we’ll resume from where I say, okay?”

Aidan rolled his shoulders back in an effort to release the tension. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m starting the tape now,” Chuck said. “Begin whenever you’re ready.”

Aidan swallowed hard and managed a nod. He placed his hands over the first notes of Beth’s song, overcome with fear, sorrow, and hurt… that promptly changed to joy and serenity as the melody poured from his fingers.

Closing his eyes, he forgot about Matthew and Chuck and focused on how much Beth enjoyed the tune when he played it for her in Lou’s store. One note at a time, he tangled in the intricate web of the piece, a jubilant orchestrator of a love song filled with hope for the future
—
an eternal gift to the woman he worshipped, the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. It gave him hope that he could one day achieve deliverance from his sins and feel worthy of her affection.

Aidan held the last notes and opened his eyes. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and looked to his audience on the other side of the glass. Matthew, Chuck, and an unexpected new addition to the group, Matthew’s manager, Mervin Lewis, gaped at him.

“One take. I can’t believe it!” Chuck leapt from his chair. “What a flawless performance. Never in my life did I think that you
—
” He waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway… amazing!”

Matthew’s manager made his way to Aidan’s side of the glass and extended his hand with a big smile on his face and dollar signs flashing in his eyes.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said as Aidan stood from the piano bench. “My name is Merv Lewis.”

Aidan shook Merv’s hand reluctantly.

“Aidan Evans.” He stuck with a formal introduction, although he had a hunch Merv knew who he was already.

Merv surveyed the piano. “Why are you recording a single?”

“It’s not a single,” Aidan said sharply. “I didn’t record it for the public.”

Merv didn’t look the least bit deterred, supporting his reputation as the most cutthroat manager in the music business. “That was an original composition. I’m sure of it.”

Aidan clenched his jaw, imprisoning the harsh reply that simmered on his tongue. He exhaled a slow breath through his nose. “I’m not interested in a music career. I just came here to record for personal reasons, that’s it.”

“That tune would sound great with lyrics,” Merv said, as though Aidan hadn’t spoken. “Do you sing, Mr. Evans? With your thriving film career and popularity, we could make—”

“No.” A flush of anger rose in Aidan’s cheeks.

“No, you don’t sing, or—”

“No, I’m not interested. Period.” Aidan drove his hand through his hair and headed into the next room.

“One damn take!” Chuck gave Aidan an enthusiastic pat on the back. “Remarkable!”

“I heard you the first time.” Aidan shrugged him off and moved toward the exit.

Matthew loosened his tie upon his approach, looking as easygoing as usual. “Evans, did you get an invite to Romanoff’s for Valentine’s Day?”

Aidan collected himself enough for small talk, though the frantic need to escape brewed like lava under his skin.

“Yeah, Beth and I each got one.” He made sure his voice was low enough that Merv and Chuck wouldn’t hear him. “She wants to go, so I said I’d go, too.”

“Excellent.” Matthew rubbed his hands together. “We’re going to have a blast. I’ve gone every year since I moved to Hollywood and have never been disappointed.”

Aidan felt the tension lift from his shoulders. “I guess I gotta wear a suit, huh?”

“You’re Aidan ‘Golden Boy’ Evans. You can wear whatever you want.” Matthew nudged an elbow into his ribs. “Although, Connie, Olivia, and Beth went shopping the other day and bought fancy gowns for the festivities, so I don’t think it’s in your best interest to wear your typical attire.”

Aidan grinned. “Olivia already said she’d help me find a suit.”

“Just know you’ll never look as dapper as me, no matter how hard you try.” Matthew pulled on the lapels of his suit jacket in a boastful manner. Aidan chuckled. “Anyway, we’re done here. I just have to go over some things with Merv, and then I’m meeting Connie at Starlight Studios. I’ll drop off your record at your house sometime in the next few days.”

“Sounds good, and thanks again for everything.” Aidan headed for the door, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and looking forward to freedom and fresh air.

“Mr. Evans.”

Aidan curled his hand around his keys as he turned to Merv.

“Young man, are you sure you’re not interested in cutting a single? I’ve heard you’re adverse to contracts. I’d be willing to make an exception and work with you on a song by song basis.”

Aidan bit back a curse only because Merv was Matthew’s manager. “I appreciate the offer, but like I said already, it’s a no-go.” He sounded controlled, but anger surged inside him, boiling close to the brim. “I have no interest in entering the music business, and if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you kept what you saw here today to yourself.”

Merv held up his hands. “Understood, Mr. Evans. I just couldn’t have you walk out the door without making one last attempt to convince you to return to the studio in an official capacity.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Aidan’s reply spewed bitterly from his lips. “But my answer is still no.”

“I respect your decision.” A broad smile, this time with overpowering sincerity, crossed Merv’s face. “I must say though, son, there’s a place in Heaven for the person who taught you how to play so beautifully. You have a true gift.”

Aidan reached out to a nearby filing cabinet to steady himself as a vision of his mother’s broken, bloody body invaded his mind, throwing off his equilibrium like a spinning top that had lost momentum. The gruesome image was far from angelic, reflecting the actions of a man Aidan felt could only have been sent to their home by the devil himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to suppress the memories, as nausea coiled in his stomach like a defensive cobra, its venom making his heart beat at a deadly pace. He hadn’t experienced a vision in a while and felt terrified that they hadn’t stopped for good like he’d assumed. He hoped his nightmares wouldn’t return, too.

“Are you all right, Aidan?” Matthew’s voice sounded miles away, void of its usual casual charm.

The vision passed without developing completely. Aidan forced his eyes open and pushed away from the filing cabinet, looking everywhere but at the three men who regarded him curiously.

“Uh, yeah. I’m good.” The words lodged in his throat. “Anyway, I gotta go.”

Aidan put on his sunglasses to hide his watery eyes on his walk to the parking lot. In the privacy of his Porsche, he smashed his hands into the steering wheel with a curse and breathed in and out as much air as possible until his lungs burned and his sickness passed.

What remained, however, felt much worse. A tortured soul, shattered by self-doubt, shame, and a tremendous fear that, despite his best efforts, he would never be worthy of Beth’s love like he had daydreamed while playing piano in the studio this afternoon.

In the early evening on Valentine’s Day, Aidan stood on Beth’s front porch, holding a dozen red roses and attempting to adjust his crooked tie without success. He knocked twice and waited.