I slumped into a chair in the corner of the now transformed room. Due to Davey's allergies, and my sense of self-respect-- however lacking it seemed to be these days-- we convinced Jared that we needed to give the place a deep cleaning before setting up our gear. Besides, we owed Otto for the favor, whatever Jared said about Sarah.
So, after a few hours, a whole lot of pine sol, and a mop dance party with Davey worthy of a chick-flick movie montage, the place was functional and presentable. The boxes were shoved to line the back wall in neat stacks, and the furniture was arranged to accommodate our gear, which we'd loaded in from the guys' trailer outside after a quick meal break. It was actually a pretty ideal practice space, and I was impressed we'd managed to do it all in one evening.
Of course, I now had extremely sore muscles to show for it.
Davey was stretched out on the couch, twirling a drumstick in the air, while Jared sat fiddling with his pedal board.
I checked my phone. Dad's friend James was at our house, but I wanted to make sure I got home before he left. I didn't like leaving Dad alone. What if he had some sort of panic attack? Or decided to spontaneously go somewhere and not tell me, or forgot he was cooking something on the stove? I'd heard the horror stories; and maybe I was being too paranoid, but it was my responsibility now to take care of him, and I was going to take it seriously.
"It's getting late."
Jared didn't look up from his spot on the floor. "Party's just getting started." He gave his pedal board a final once-over and, satisfied with the setup, slid it across the hardwood floor towards his mic stand.
Davey twisted around and gave Jared an upside-down glance from where he was lying on the couch.
"Maybe we should start on music tomorrow, Jar," he said. "I forgot my drum key at home anyway." It was the one thing I'd seen Davey get even close to worked up about-- if his drums weren't tuned well, he couldn't stand playing them.
I could tell Jared wanted to keep working-- this was serious for him. He really wanted this record deal. But I needed boundaries. Just because I'd decided to go along with this didn't mean it was my life.
"Tomorrow sounds good." I stood up. "As long as there's coffee." I grabbed my guitar.
"Okay, okay, tomorrow." Jared scrambled to his feet. "Just be here by ten."
"Coffee?" I drilled him with a stare. When he just looked at me like I was nuts, I narrowed my eyes. "You're not the only one who can hold favors over someone's head."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine." He drew out the word like it was torture.
I smiled sweetly and brushed past him to the door. "Bye Davey!"
"Ten, Claire!" Jared shouted after me, but I just shut the door instead of responding.
I clomped down the wooden stairs as quietly as I could in my chunky boots. A different bartender was behind the counter; Ian's shift ended ages ago and it looked like Otto was gone too. Guess he didn't need his keys back tonight.
My gaze fell on the stage. It was empty now, and unlit; the shadows and the full room of patrons made it look smaller than it had felt from up there. I slowed at the bottom of the stairs, gazing at it. Thinking of Sam. And strangely, thinking of Casanova's lily, the lily that meant death.
I bit my lip. It was only a few minutes away, the location of Casanova's newest piece. Out of the way from the route home, yes, but it was so close.
I wanted to see it.
I should get home to Dad...
I pushed out the door while I slipped my phone from my pocket and dialed his cell.
He answered right away, which was a miracle.
"Claire Bear!" I could hear another voice in the background, whooping at the TV. James was still there, good. Dad had recorded a game from last night, it must've gone into overtime if they were still watching.
"Hey, Dad. How's the game?"
"Not lookin' so good. You need something?"
He hated feeling babied. I thought fast. "Uh... are we out of milk?" There was a pause and I winced.
"Milk." He said it like a statement, not a question. "You called me about milk."
"Uh, yeah, I-- this morning I used a bunch in my cereal and wasn't sure if you used any and I wanted--"
"Baby girl." He stopped me, seeing right through my awkward rambling. "Your old man is okay. Now hang up so I can get back to this miserable game that James won't stop giving me crap about."
I exhaled the breath I'd been holding. "Okay. I won't be too much longer."
"Take your time." He knew I'd been worried and he didn't like it, I could hear it in the slight edge his voice had taken on.
"Dad--"
"I'm fine, Claire Bear." His voice was softer. "I'll see you later."
"Okay. Bye."
I hung up and tried to release the tension in my shoulders. He was okay, James was with him. So why did I feel so guilty for not being there?
I shook my head and started my car. I couldn't feel guilty. I couldn't put that on myself. I had enough to worry about already.
Ten extra minutes to see the piece. I pulled out onto the street.
I wouldn't be long.
I slowed to a stop across the street from the narrow backstreet where I knew Space Lovers used to be. In high school, I'd worked at a coffee shop in the area, and I used to pass it on my way to work every day. The fact that it was gone forever was sad-- it had been here for years. Painting over a work of art like that seemed like a tragedy to me. Whoever did it-- Sirena? must've been pretty angry.
Or just mean, which seemed more likely. But I was biased.
I stepped into the alley, which wasn't well lit, but the shadows didn't entirely swallow the painting that I found halfway down the right wall. I stopped in front of it. The colors were muted in the darkness, but the lines were stark and sharp despite the lighting. I scanned it, there-- on the left, the edge of the moon was peeking out from beneath the roses crawling out from the letters of his name.
I stepped to the right, fingers trailing across the brick, stopping when they rested on the lily.
It was so small, I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't looked closely. But it was there; it had to have some meaning, didn't it?
"You noticed the lily."
My heart dropped to my feet and I whipped around at the voice. A guy stood against the other wall of the alley with a hood drawn up-- the kind that came up over his forehead and cast shadows over everything but his mouth.
I was pretty sure I'd seen this scenario play out on TV before. It never seemed to end well for the girl.
This wasn't a deserted or unsafe area downtown by any means; but even so, I listened to the alarms sounding off in the back of my mind, and I took a step back towards the entrance to the alley. His lips twisted in a wry grimace, and he held up his hands, quickly mimicking my step back.
"Sorry, that was dumb of me. Didn't mean to sneak up on you and scare you." He stepped away again, like he wanted to make sure I knew he wasn't a threat. "I was just passing through and was impressed you noticed the lily, that's all." He pressed his palms together and bent slightly at the waist as he stepped back once more, like he was begging for forgiveness. "Really sorry. I'll be going now." He turned and headed further down the alley.
I watched him retreat, not sure whether to feel safe now. Not sure if I'd really had time to feel unsafe. But even so, I blurted out a question.
"What do you think it means?" I couldn't help but ask. If he'd noticed the lily, he must've studied the painting just like I had.
He stopped, and turned back to face me. "The lily?" He tilted his head. "Death, I s'pose."
I frowned. "But why would he put it there? What is his meaning?"
The guy shrugged. "Well. White lilies are also popular in springtime-- you know, the Easter lilies. New life, and all that. Considering this is his first painting in a while..."
"It symbolizes his return?"
His mouth quirked up in a half-smile that could've been a smirk. "At least, that's my best guess."
Interesting theory. It made sense.
"Thanks."
He shrugged. "Sorry again for scaring you."
"You know, the creepy hood isn't helping your case."
The smirk was back again, and he stuck his hands in his pockets and turned once more to stroll back out the other side of the alley. But his voice carried down the passage towards me.
"Sorry, but I wasn't about to blow my cover just for you, Sweetheart. It's lasted this long, I can't afford to take chances!"
He disappeared around the far corner, and I was left blinking at his words. His cover? Wait.
Holy crap. I gaped at the now empty alley.
That was Casanova?
Finally we meet the mysterious Casanova!! :O
Chapter song is Late In The Night by From Indian Lakes