A/N: Another MASSIVE thank you to MilieBoo for the French translations. I couldn't be doing this without you--well, I could try Google Translate, but we both know that would be garbage. So thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.
Darien Grace
"Alright, break's over. We need to run through the set and practice the transitions," Danielle announced. She was already back on the stage. I snorted in response, sidling up next to the closest heater, cradling the cup of liquid salvation between both hands. There was no way in hell I was going back on that stage before the caffeine had time to work its magic. Danielle watched me impatiently, tapping the toe of her boot on the stage. "Darien, come on. You need to learn the steps."
Pumpkin spice almost came out of my nose. "The steps? No, I don't dance. That's all you, Princess."
"We are a full service act. You have to perform," Bianca, her sister, insisted. I was told that together she and Danielle handled the band's vocals while the rest of us were supposed to back them up. Danielle had a banjo—an actual fucking banjo— strung over her shoulder. She strummed a few impatient chords.
"No. See, that wasn't part of the deal. I was told that if I did a little community service I could graduate on time. So here I am, charitably playing the violin. Dancing was never part of the bargain." I took another prolonged drag from my latte, refusing to move from where I leaned against the heater.
"You have to dance. It's in our contract." Bianca's face was steadily darkening. She flicked her long, light brown braid over her shoulder. She'd tucked her floral blouse into a brick red maxi skirt that was cinched at the waist with an over-large western belt-buckle. She bent down to retrieve her own banjo, hitching the strap high up on her shoulder. She strummed a few sharp chords.
"I didn't sign a contract."
"This is a joke to her. She doesn't even want to be here!" Bianca swore under her breath, looking to Danielle and the other band members for back up. Danielle sighed and the three other members were looking in any direction except ours.
"You're right. I don't want to be here, but I am." I got to my feet. The second I locked eyes with Bianca again a pang of guilt racked my stomach. I knew I was being bitchy, but I wasn't quite sure how to stop. I hadn't slept much in over a week, I was hung-over as hell, and I could feel Harry's eyes on me from across the tent. All of my pent up aggression and stress had happened to choose now to come out. Those traitorous damn butterflies had come out of hibernation once again and were flitting ridiculously around my stomach.
I felt like I was going to be sick.
Danielle, Bianca, and the rest of the band hadn't actually done anything to deserve the brunt of my bottled up emotions. Still, I wasn't entirely sure how to stop my tirade.
Christ, it wasn't even nine and I already needed a shot.
Crushing my eyes closed, I forced myself to swallow my pride and my tempter. "Look, I'm sorry. I—there's a lot of shit going on right now and I just really need to get through this weekend." My eyes flashed back across the tent. Danielle frowned, her gaze following my own. A strange sort of understanding dawned on her features and immediately a knot formed in my stomach. I forced myself to speak past it. "I'm not trying to be rude, but I don't dance. I'm a classically trained musician. It's what I know. I'll play the violin—"
"Fiddle," Bianca interjected.
"Fiddle—" I amended, failing in removing the last bit of resentment from my voice. "—but I need to concentrate. Bluegrass ins't my usual style and the fiddle isn't my usual instrument." I put my latte down on one of the edge of the stage and held my hands out in a placating gesture.
"They why did they ask you to be here?" One of the other band members asked, strapping on his guitar. The other guitarist behind him nodded in agreement.
"Because I can do it. It may not be my specialty, but the University knows I'm a fast learner, and quite frankly, y'all were out of options." I suppressed a laugh.
"We can't afford to mess this up. There are a lot of people coming to hear us play," Bianca said, adjusting her mic stand. It was near painful, but I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Sure, all of this totally made sense. Of course, top music execs were going to be scouting a local fall festival for promising talent. Wow, they real were clueless.
I managed a tight smile that came nowhere near my eyes. Danielle gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, a strange understanding filling her gaze. I looked away. My eyes meeting Harry's once more.
I turned away, bending down to retried my violin from its case. I turned back to Bianca. "Now that's all settled, you said you wanted to run through the set?" She nodded and everyone took their places; Danielle and Bianca stood at the head of the stage, their matching banjos strapped on. The two guitarists took up positions on opposite ends of the stage. The one who'd spoken out earlier stood a few feet behind me, obviously keeping his distance. This time I did roll my eyes. A heavier set member of the band stood in the back, holding the neck of an upright bass.
I frowned as I stared at the stack of sheet music on the stand in front of me. Danielle counted down and the band began to play.
The entire set took just over two hours to run through between the various pauses to tune instruments, adjust microphones, and tape down wires. Danielle had tripped at one point and Bianca immediately made us stop to hunt down duct tape. Why they hadn't secured everything before was beyond me.
"Not bad," Bianca admitted a moment or two later. I could tell that it pained her a bit to do so. I held back a grin. I was slightly ashamed at how proud I was of myself. My fingers were still raw from the night before. But up until twenty-four hours ago, I'd never tried to play bluegrass in my life. The tempo was a good five times faster than I was used to and just playing the violin already required more concentration than the piano. For the most part, I'd been able to keep up. And, to be honest, this entire damn day was already going by faster than I thought that it would.
The Festival had officially opened a few minutes ago and people were just now starting to make their way onto the field. The organizing committee had set the Main Stage up at the farthest end of the field from the entrance. It was, admittedly, a smart design. Anyone who wanted to see the show, had to navigate the various venders and games to make it back to us.
I hopped off the stage after stowing my violin again, kneeling down to grab my now-cold latte. I scanned the area, already hoping to find a microwave to heat it back up. Two small arms suddenly clamped down around my waist.
"What the f—," I stopped short at the sight of familiar golden-brown curls. It couldn't be.
"Renne!" The little girl cheered. Warm, chocolate brown eyes peered up at my from a delicate, heart-shaped face.
"Qu'est ce que tu fais là?" (Where on earth did you come from?) I asked, scooping the child up into my arms. Memories from my time in France suddenly thundered back across my mind, stealing my breath. Nettie's hair hung in loose ringlets, trapped under a knit black winter hat with a white pom pom at the crest. Her black wool coat tied at the waist, flaring out like a dress over her black thermal leggings and leather boots. I couldn't believe it. My mind could hardly process the fact that the child I'd met in a hospital in France so many months ago was here in New York—at the Halloween Harvest Festival of all places.
"Où sont tes parents? Qui est-ce qui te surveille?" (Where are your parents? Who's watching you?) I held her tighter against my body, possessive in the foreign environment.
She pointed back over my shoulder to where the crowd was steadily thickening before turning back to me. "Tu m'as manqué," (I missed you,) she giggled, wrapping her small arms around my neck. I searched the crowd, carrying Nettie forward. My eyes scanned the gathering mass of people. A tall figure pushed his way through the crowd. My smile faltered.
Monsieur Malik forced his way through the last few people and into the tent, searching frantically. "Antoinette? Antoinette!"
"Ici!" (Here!) Nettie called.
Nettie squirmed in my arms and I set her on the ground. She clutched my hand in her own, doing her best to drag me toward the concerned Frenchman.
"Oh, Antoinette, dieu merci. Ne t'enfuie pas de nouveau!" (Oh, Antoinette, thank god. Do not run off again!) The Monsieuer said, dropping to his knees to clutch the little girl by her shoulders. He inspected every last inch of her before he even thought to look up.
Instinctively, I pulled her back against my body and away from the Monsieur. "Nettie, tu connais cet homme?" (Nettie, do you know this man?)
Nettie smiled and said yes at the same time the Monsieur finally looked up. My eyes widened as I looked between the Monsieur and the delicate child. No fucking way. He had a kid?
Shock registered across his dark features. "Mademoiselle Grace, je ne comprends pas." (Miss Grace, I don't understand.)
"Vous comme moi." (That makes two of us,) I said, shaking a nervous hand through my violet curls. My stomach flipped at the mere sight of him, my already scattered nerves causing my brain to short-circuit. I hadn't seen the Monsieur since I turned him down two nights ago. Now, here he was along with my pint-sized Muse. I was too hungover for this.
Nettie still clung to my hand, bouncing up and down on her small toes. She pulled toward him and the Monsieur scooped her up into his arms, balancing the small child on his hip.
Nettie cupped her hand to his ear, whispering conspiratorially. "C'est elle! C'est elle! Je t'avais dit qu'elle était réelle!" (This is her! This is her! I told you she was real!)
The Monsieur smiled softly back at her, before returning his attention to me.
"Comment connaissez-vous ma nièce?" (How is it you know my niece?)
"Votre nièce," (Your niece,) I repeated dumbly.
"Elle a colorié des images avec moi pendant que Papa travaillait. Toutes ses robes de princesses étaient noires." (She colored pictures with me while Daddy worked. All of her princesses's dresses were black.) Nettie screwed her nose up at the mention of my more grunge take on Cinderella.
The Monsieur still looked between the two of us, confusion clear on his face.
Yeah, I was definitely still too hungover for this. I could feel Harry's eyes on me once more from across the tent. My stomach turned over a second time, rejecting the mix of Jack Daniel's and Starbucks at the same time that Stella jumped to attention; her metaphorical head swiveled from side to side, her attention split between the two men. Fuck.
I forced myself to focus on the problem directly in front of me. "Vous vous rappelez bien que j'étais partie durant quelques mois?" (Remember how I was gone for a few months?)
* * *
"Why were you in the hospital to begin with?" Zayn asked. Along with asking me to drop the formalities, he'd asked numerous questions about my time abroad and how I came to meet his niece. He'd shifted from French to English once I told him I'd been admitted—some things were best kept from little ears. Nettie skipped along between us, our hands each clasped in one of hers.
"I've never been great at coping with difficult situations. I tend to be better at avoiding them," I sighed, looking away from him to scan the crowd. It had grown considerably over the past hour, and the fall sun was steadily warming the chilled air.
"And avoiding these situations caused you to end up in a hospital in a foreign country?" He said. I could hear the incredulity in his voice.
"Did I mention my destructive personality?"
Nettie's full weight dropped suddenly onto my arm. I looked down onto to see her beaming up at us, her knees bent, holding her feet a few inches above the ground. She let out a shrill giggle before setting them down and hopping back up again. This time I was ready for her—moving my arm to swing her between us. I let out a laugh of my own. Her happy energy was magnetic.
Still smiling, I turned back to Zayn.
"Anyway, I've never been a fan of hospitals so whenever I would go in for a follow-up, I would wander off. One day I made it to the children's ward and this little munchkin all but forced me to color with her. I missed my appointment and had to reschedule."
"She said you visited quite frequently."
"I missed a lot of appointments." I said, grinning down at Nettie. The wind kicked up suddenly, scattering golden-brown curls across her shoulders. She squealed and tried to bat them away with her small, gloved hands.
Zayn was silent for a few moments, the corners of his mouth tilting down as he thought over the limited information I'd given him. I wasn't anywhere near ready to try and explain exactly which difficult situations I'd been running away from. I was counting on the old-school civility he tended to favor to win out over whatever questions still lingered in his mind. The wind tugged at the navy scarf draped beneath the collar of his fine, tan coat. He'd layered the coat over a navy blazer and white dress shirt, brown leather gloves tucked in the breast pocket. Even in jeans he managed to exude an easy air of sophistication. He seemed to be dressed more for a lunch out with business associates rather than the haphazard nonsense of the festival around us. Stella was living for it.
As heat threatened to flood my cheeks... and other territories further south, I forced myself to look away.
I broke the silence between us first.
"So now you know the origin of our relationship," I said swinging Nettie between us once more, "Care to elaborate on yours?"
Zayn pulled a hand through the front of his hair, mussing the dark strands. "Her father is a surgeon at the hospital you stayed in in France. They come to New York to visit for a month or so each year."
"And her mother?" I asked. Nettie continued to pull us through the crowd.
"My sister. She—there was an accident about a year after Nettie was born. She didn't make it."
My eyes snapped up to meet his. "I'm so sorry."
He shot me a sad smile.
"Where's her father now?"
"Overseeing an operation at New York-Presbyterian Hospital. He used to be a resident there."
"He doesn't mind missing out on all of the fun?"
Zayn shrugged. "He loves his work and, to be quite honest, we didn't find out about the Festival until this morning. She wanted donuts and while we were out, we saw a flyer."
My spirit had lifted considerably since Nettie ran up to me an hour ago. I felt a teasing smirk tilt the corners of my mouth. "So this wasn't part of your master plan?" I asked.
"My master plan?"
"To commander my birthday weekend for the second year in a row?"
"Ah, no. No master plan, at least not one of my own making. Though, I cannot speak to the whims of the Universe." His smile warmed his amber gaze, but my own smile fell. His casual reference to the Universe as a higher power chilled some of the warmth that had been building inside of me.
Looking away, I scooped Nettie up into my arms, digging my fingertips playfully into her ribs. She squealed in delight before I settled her against my hip. She began to play with my hair, picking up a few of the curls and examining them in the sunlight. The color shifted slightly from purple to pink and then back again as she held them in the light.
"Qu'est ce que tu fais?" (What are you doing?) I asked, smiling gently at her. She simply giggled in response, ducking her head, hiding in the crook of my neck.
I felt more than heard her mumbled words against my skin. "Tu m'as manqué." (I missed you.)
"Je peux te dire un secret?" (Can I tell you a secret?) I asked. I felt her nod. "Vous m'avez manqué aussi." (I missed you too.) The giggling resumed.
Zayn smiled, alternating his gaze between me and the small girl cradled against my hip. "Je vais en avoir plein les bras avec vous deux, n'est-ce pas?" (I'm going to have my hands full with the two of you, aren't I?)
"Vous saisissez vite, Monsieur." (You do catch on quickly, Monsieur.) Nettie giggled once more and squirmed, already restless in my arms. I replaced her on the ground, and we continued to make our way through the crowd.
Carnival scents and sounds assaulted us from all sides. Fried food, children's screams, cotton candy, the calls of various merchants. It was sensory overload, but Nettie seemed to love it. She managed to lead us through half of the Festival before she'd had enough.
Zayn knelt down and she clambered onto his back, her arms slung around his neck. I hugged my jacket tighter around my frame. I couldn't shake my smile.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a burgundy knit hat navigating the crowd. I turned, and it was like I was moving in slow motion. Harry. We locked eyes and immediately my earlier joy soured. Wind whipped through the festival, stinging my skin and sending a chill down my spine.
My eyes darted back to Nettie and Zayn, reconnecting with Harry's a split second later. My anxiety must had shown on my face because he stopped dead in his tracks. His expression hardened perceptibly as his gaze drifted to the pair laughing behind me, blissfully unaware. His attention shifted back to me and he pointed to his watch.
Frowning, I checked the digital display on my phone.
Damn. The show.
I looked up to tell Harry that I'd be right there, but he'd already disappeared.
I whirled around, catching Zayn by the arm. "Shit. On doit y aller." (We have to go.) Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, though. Every path to the stage was incredibly congested as the crowd surged forward in preparation for the first scheduled show.
"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" (What's going on?) he asked, following close as I forced my way through the crowd.
"Le spectacle. Je suis en retard." (The show. I'm late.)
Five minutes later, I brushed a quick kiss to both Nettie's cheeks and rushed toward the stage.
I'd only just set foot backstage when Danielle pounced on me. "You're late."
"I know. I'm sorry. I got a little distracted," I breezed, rushing over to area housing our instruments. The other members of the band were already preparing to go on stage. I popped the locks on the case and grabbed my bow and violin.
"You didn't tell me you had a daughter. She's adorable," Danielle said, looking up at me briefly before returning her attention to her banjo.
"She's not my daughter."
"Oh. Sorry, I just assumed..." Danielle watched me carefully, gauging my reaction.
"She's my—" I was floundering, searching for the right word. "—friend's niece."
"Looks like he's interested in being more than your friend," she said. I bit the inside of my cheek, my eyes finding Zayn and Nettie in the crowd. He met my gaze and, again, Stella stretched as warmth coursed between my legs. I forced myself to look away. Harry stood at the edge of the stage, struggling to sort out a mess of chords. He looked up suddenly and Stella grinned.
Christ. I really needed to put a leash on her.
I forced myself to look back at Danielle. I flashed her a tight-lipped smile and played out a few chords, checking the tuning one last time. "He's just a friend."
"How did you two meet?" It was an innocent enough question.
"He sent me a glass of champagne one night during my shift."
I could see Danielle's mind racing, her next question already on her lips. The Universe blessedly chose that moment to take mercy on me. We were rushed onstage with the rest of the band, and I was saved from answering.
Bianca and Danielle greeted the crowd while I took my place on the right side of the stage. I could feel three entirely different sets of eyes burning into me and I had to keep from physically bowing under the intensity. I busied myself with readjusting the tuning of my violin.
I glanced nervously at the stack of sheet music in front of me. I had barely been able to flip the pages during our practice set. They'd had to have one of the Festival staff come up and turn the pages for me. I didn't exactly feel like drawing any more attention to myself than I already was. Taking one last look at the music for the first song, I willed it to commit to memory. I sucked in a deep breath and said a prayer that I wouldn't regret what I was about to do. I waved over one of the stage attendants and handed the stand and the music to him.
Danielle and Bianca exchanged a nervous look. I studiously ignored them, hitching my violin under my chin.
The only cue I was given to the start of the set was the slight tap of Danielle's toe against the stage. Seconds later she launched into the first song. Her fingers raced across her instrument, she and her sister effortlessly kicking off the song. They plucked at the strings of their banjos with lighting speed. My whole "commit it to memory in thirty seconds" theory proved to be an awful idea. I blanked the second the music started.
Au diable tout ça. (To hell with it all.)
I tracked the music in my mind, following the progression to find the pattern before I even thought about launching myself into the fray. Bianca whipped around to look at me and I knew that I'd missed my cue.
Putain de merde. (Fucking hell.)
Gritting my teeth, I tracked the progression again. Relying far too heavily on every music theory class I'd ever taken, I began to play. Danielle and Bianca both turned to stare at me, only barely keeping up with the song themselves. I ignored them yet again, my attention shifting to the crowd. My eyes locked first with Harry's. I hadn't known where he was in the crowd; I'd simply known he was there. It was like a magnet drew me immediately to him. I swore, all I had to do was tug just slightly on what tiny shreds remained of the connection we once shared and he reacted. I knew that if he were to do the same, I would react as well. It was a sickening and foolishly satisfying realization.
He frowned at me, his expression shifting as he asked his silent question. What the hell are you doing? I shrugged slightly, but continued to play. He rolled his eyes heavenward, inadvertently releasing part of his grip on my soul in the process. The second his eyes left mine the connection broke and I was free. I scanned the crowd for Zayn and Nettie. Somehow they'd made their way to the front of the crowd. Nettie wore a face-splitting grin and Zayn's expression matched hers. I flashed a smile that I knew reached nowhere near my eyes and returned my attention to the music.
I threw everything I had into the song. I let Festival fade away. All of the worry, the frustration, the guilt, the confusion, and the pain. The world melted down, leaving only Harry, Zayn, Nettie, and me. I willed them away, I put every last ounce of my mental strength into the action. Zayn faded first. Nettie and Harry both stared at me now and I felt my heart split between the two. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make them disappear. They stayed with me, watching me throughout the entire song.
From somewhere far away, my mind registered Danielle and Bianca's voices, the music the other instruments were producing, and the energy of the crowd.
The song came to an end and the world came rushing back. Slowly I opened my eyes and scanned the crowd. They were already cheering and clapping. Bianca raised her arm for them to quiet and Danielle rushed to my side.
"What was that?" She asked, speaking directly into my ear.
I shrugged. "I forgot the music so I improvised."
Her eyes bugged open, but she was grinning like an idiot. "Well, then keep improvising. That was freaking fantastic. If Tommy ever quits, we're calling you."
I flashed her a tight smile. I had no idea what to say to that.
Bianca's voice traveled through the crowd, introducing each of the band members in turn. She turned suddenly around to face me. Great. "Unfortunately one of our band members couldn't make it to the show today. How about a big hand to our stand in on the fiddle, Darien Grace!" The crowd erupted in applause and cat-calls again and I felt my face heat. Oh, just fucking wonderful.
I glared at Danielle and her sister; she just grinned and winked at me.
The rest of the set passed in a blur of improvised music. I did everything within my fucking power to forget the fact that Zayn, Nettie and Harry were all in the crowd. They were in the crowd together and I was stuck on stage. I was stressing the fuck out.
Finally, the set ended, and I rushed off stage to stow my violin. Danielle managed to stop me long enough to tell me that the next show would be at sunset. That was about four hours from now. That gave me four hours to figure out some way to get Zayn and Nettie away from Harry, or Harry away from them. It didn't matter which way it happened. It just needed to happen. I just needed to survive today.
A/N: So I threw you all a little curve ball this week. I just had to bring Nettie back even with the rewrite. She's just too damn adorable not to.
Also, we are now full-swing into the Halloween-Harvest Festival. We have #Harien, we have #Zarien, and we have #Narien (personal favorite). Obviously, I'm having a blast bringing everything and everyone back together. Now that the "Harvest" bit of the festival has come to a close, what are y'all hoping to see during the "Halloween" bit?
Costume suggestions anyone? I'm hoping to update their previous looks a bit with this rewrite. So go go GO!
Darien:
Harry:
Zayn:
Nettie:
Jas & Lee:
Caleb & Jon:
Shout out, once again, to DannyRiveraa as Danielle and cheekyramirez_ as Bianca! Thank you both so much for reading!
If you, like Danielle and Bianca, want to be featured in upcoming chapters, head on over to So You Want to be a Character--it's a chapter at the beginning of this book. Fill out the little survey and then comment your ass off. The more you comment, the more I can get a feel of your personality. If I don't know you, I can't write about you.
Anywho, I cannot wait for next week!
In the meantime, get your Watty fix from the following exceptional tales:
The Famoux and The Classix by famouxx (Updates every #FMXFriday)
THE AROTTIR by hannahgrowe (Updates every #ArottirTuesday .. also was entered into the Wattys2019)
A Dream of Snow or really anything by scarlettedrake
And if you would, check out the short stories on my profile -- Ex-Wives for Free and Zero Out !
Until next time! Loads of love,
--xE
Twitter/IG: ElleRoseBooks