A Rhapsody Of Sorts

35- Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

December 25, 2012.

Snow was still falling, lightly touching down on the streets only for the sun to melt it into slush within minutes. While I was driving over Blackfriars Bridge, I glanced out at the Thames. Today it looked like a long stretch of clear blue diamonds instead of its usual murky gray waves. This thought made my stomach flutter with anticipation, filling me with warmth where I'd once found nothing but a cold snap. By the time I reached Gio's flat in Southwark, I felt like the ice in my bones had thawed completely.

Wary of the trail of water and mud I would leave on his mahogany floors, Gio made me kick my boots off and roll up my trousers in the doorway before he agreed to let me inside. It was five in the evening but he was still dressed in his Calvin Klein pajamas, and the look on his face was sharp as a knife.

He crossed his arms over his chest as I stood before him barefooted and shivering. "You're the first person I've seen in five days so this better be good." I glanced at the television, which was turned up loudly, before I set my gaze on him again.

"I want to do the label."

They were the only words I'd spoken in hours. But they were the same six words I'd gone over and over in my head all night and day as I reacquainted myself with my dusty forgotten instruments too. They had become a mantra in my mind, and they sounded even better to me when I released them into the world.

When Gio did nothing but stare blankly, I added in a more powerful voice, "I really, really want to do the record label."

His thick eyebrows pinched together and his glare softened. He snatched up the remote and lowered the telly's volume.

"Do you really mean it?" he asked quietly. If I didn't know him better, I would've thought he sounded insecure — a trait that had always eluded Gio.

"Yes," I said without hesitating. "I'm so sure, G."

"But..." He shifted on his feet and cleared his throat. "Micah said you weren't budging."

"I changed my mind."

"You? You changed your mind?" His nostrils flared. "Are you drunk?"

"I'm not drunk." I rolled my eyes and unbuttoned my coat, tossing it over the back of the leather sofa before I plopped down on one of the cushions. "I'm just—I want to do it. Actually, I think I always wanted to."

There was a dainty aluminum Christmas tree in the corner of the room, white lights carefully wrapped around the branches and a delicate angel placed at the top. The tree looked nothing like Gio, who was harsh and broad and had no softness to him, but it suited him.

The cushion beside me dipped down as he settled against the armrest.

"Why've you been a hermit for five days? Are you poorly?" I snapped my head around to peer at him closely. His upper lip curled in a snarl when I pressed my hand to his forehead.

Gio's shoulders slouched as he batted my hand away. He wasn't used to being taken care of by me instead of the other way around. "I quit my job," he said, his head held high.

My eyes went wide. Micah had mentioned Gio's intolerance of Victoria Gold but I'd never thought my uptight ex-manager would go as far as quitting. Veracity was his home. End of story. It was difficult to imagine him voluntarily walking away from the life he'd so tirelessly built there.

"You—you quit?"

"Mhm." He pulled a throw pillow into his lap. "I marched into Victoria's office and just" — he snapped his fingers — "quit like that. Easy as pie. I mean, it wasn't like the scene you made." He grinned, the corners of his mouth twisting up into a proud smile. "The rug caught fire after that stunt you pulled, you know?"