Sing For Me by Rachel Schurig

Will

By the time I get to Eva’s house in Malibu a half hour after leaving my apartment, I have no fewer than ten messages from various cousins. And it’s not just the little girls, either. Apparently, they all got on their phones to spread the word as soon as I left because Fox, Silas, and Alex’s little brother, Nix all send good luck texts as well.

My phone dings as I open my door. CeCe. Again.

CeCe:Are you bringing her flowers?

Another ding.

Violet:You should definitely bring her flowers.

Then another, all in the span of about twenty seconds.

Silas: All the girls are saying you should bring flowers. Did you bring flowers?

Torn between amusement and annoyance, I type a response into the group thread.

Me:If you all don’t leave me the hell alone, I’m telling your parents about the time Rose covered for you when you snuck out after curfew and TP’d Jimmy Delray’s house.

My phone immediately erupts in a flurry of dings.

Presley:Not cool man.

Silas:That’s under the cone, Will!

Violet:You’re not going to really tell them, are you?

Ash:I’m already grounded, dude. Don’t you dare.

Lyric:Will!

Nix:Jimmy Delray is a dbag and he totally deserved it.

Me:I’m turning the phone off now. Have a good night.

I don’t wait for the responses that are sure to come. I also don’t actually turn the phone off, silencing it instead. As the oldest, Rose and I always make sure to keep ourselves reachable by our cousins. If one of them were to get into trouble or need me in some way, I’m damn sure going to be there for them, date or not.

I take a deep breath, trying to put my family out of my mind, and reach for the flowers that I brought. My cousins might be annoying, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t right about some things.

Eva’s house is impossible to see from the street, shrouded by greenery and high cement walls. As instructed when we set up the date, I ring the bell at the gate and wait to be buzzed in.

“Yes?” a familiar crisp, professional voice calls through the speaker. I’m pretty sure it’s Eva’s assistant, Marissa, and I wonder if the woman ever takes a night off.

“It’s Will Ransome,” I say, peering at the security camera. The click of the gate is the only response and I hurry through before it can close on me.

From this side of the gate, Eva’s house looks dark and closed off. There don’t appear to be many windows, giving the building an industrial vibe I wouldn’t expect in Malibu. From somewhere nearby, I can hear the crashing of waves.

Marissa is waiting at the door. “Hey,” she says, eying my outfit and the flowers. She gives me what I take to be an approving wink. “She’s upstairs.”

I expect her to lead the way but she merely points at a set of iron steps before disappearing through a door off the barren front hallway.

“Okay,” I mutter, feeling like this whole set-up is a little off as I start up the stairs. “Eva?” I call when I get near the second floor. “You up here?”

She appears at the top of the stairs like a fucking mirage or something. Dressed in a simple, flowing yellow dress, her hair loose and softly curled, she’s impossibly beautiful. This woman takes my breath away, every single time.

As I near the top, an expanse of space opens behind her. While the street-front side of the house and the entryway had been cold and empty, this room is anything but. Light permeates the entire space, the walls and furniture all done up in cool blues and creamy whites. Centered in the room is a huge overstuffed white sectional that looks soft as a cloud. The entire back wall is made of floor to ceiling windows, giving off a breathtaking view of the darkening ocean beyond.

Walking up those stairs into her space, Eva standing before me as ethereal as an angel, it feels like ascending into the clouds, into heaven. I don’t bother saying hello, merely pull her into my arms, needing to hold a piece of her perfection close to me.

“Hey,” she murmurs against my chest, arms coming up around me.

“Hey,” I whisper back, breathing in the scent of her hair. It’s citrusy, maybe lemons? There’s also an undertone I can’t quite name, but it smells sweet, like sugar. Sweet and soft and delicate, just like her.

“Sorry about that,” she says, pulling away to gesture to the stairs behind me. “I, uh, usually don’t answer the door myself. It’s a, um, security thing.”

“It’s no problem,” I tell her, even as a feel a pang at her words, like I do every time she lets me get a glimpse of the fear that clearly runs deep within her.

“Come on in,” she says, turning to lead me further into her place.

“This is gorgeous, Eva,” I mutter, looking around. “I didn’t realize you lived right on the water.”

She sighs happily, looking out the windows. “That view is pretty much the best thing about living in LA.”

“Hey now. You’re not insinuating that this city is anything short of amazing, are you?”

She grins at me, expression cheeky. “I’m a New York girl. LA will only ever be okay compared to the greatest city in the world.”

I step back towards the stairs. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to take off.”

She grabs my arm, laughing, and I basically swoon like one of my silly cousins at the feel of her hand, even over the material of my shirt.

I am so far fucking gone over this girl.

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughs. “LA is great. I just love smog and insane traffic and all the paparazzi. Truly.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m sensing sarcasm, Eva, and I’m not sure I like it.”

“Come and drink some wine, Tattoo Boy,” she says, turning to the kitchen and giving me a perfect view of her perfect ass as it sways in front of me.

She has two glasses of red already poured waiting for us on the white marble counter. “You want to take these outside?” she suggests. “The sun just went down but the sky’s still pretty.”

“Lead the way.”

Her deck is similarly decorated in teak loungers and chairs with masses of fluffy, white pillows and cushions. Everything about this house reminds me of Eva—beautiful and feminine, light and airy. She heads to the railing, leaning against it as she looks out over the ocean, and I’m struck dumb for a moment at the sight of her standing there against the backdrop of grey ocean and pink sky.

Realizing I’m not with her, she turns around. Whatever she sees in my eyes makes her blush and duck her head. There’s something about her shyness that hits me right in the gut. It seems so incongruous for someone who makes their living performing in front of crowds and that dichotomy draws me in, makes me want to know her better, understand her.

“How was your day?” she asks when I join her at the railing.

I think about the back and forth I’d engaged in my head all afternoon, the way I’d felt completely stir crazy while I tried to figure out what to do about this thing between us. Standing here next to her now, those worries seem a million miles away. It just feels so right when I’m with her, deep down in my gut.

I decide, right then, that I’m going to talk to her, just like my cousins encouraged. I owe it to myself to figure out if we can make this work, if I can get past the hang ups of my past. Because I’m starting to get the feeling Eva might be worth the struggle.

“The girls—my cousins—are having a sleepover tonight,” I tell her, deciding to save the heavy stuff until after we both have a bit more wine in us. “So they all descended on the apartment right before I left.”

“You said you live with Rose?” she asks.

“Rose and River, yeah. The three of us were the first to move out of the family homes. Which our parents did not take well, let me tell you. I think my dad expected me to live at home until I was thirty. Dude cried when he saw my room all packed up. Mom said he played emo music for two weeks after I left.”

She slaps a hand over her mouth. “That’s sweet.”

“A little more overbearing than sweet,” I say. “But, yeah. They all felt a lot better about us living together if we weren’t going to be home.”

“And you’re close with them—with River and Rose?”

“Oh, definitely. They’re my best friends.” I twirl the wine in my glass. “You said you were close with your sister? Katherine, right?”

She nods. “Kat is the best. It kills me that she’s in New York without me. I was so hoping she’d pick UCLA but she got a better financial aid package at Columbia.” She scowls. “Not like I couldn’t have paid the difference.”

“She doesn’t like taking your money?”

Eva sighs. “I don’t think it’s that. I think she just feels bad about the sacrifices I had to make when she was younger. Which is so ridiculous because she’s my sister. My family. Of course I was going to give her everything I could.”

There’s a familiar note in her voice when she says family. She feels the same way about her sister as I do about my siblings and cousins. She might not have as big a family as I do, but it’s obvious what she does have means everything to her.

I find her hand on the railing and squeeze. “How was your day? Free of sudden influxes of little girls with sleeping bags, I assume.”

She smiles, but her eyes look a little sad. I peer closer at her, noticing for the first time the faint purplish smudges darkening the pale skin under her eyes.

“Pretty light day today.” I watch the smooth column of her neck as she swallows. “Just physical therapy.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Your hip?” I ask, determined to keep my voice light.

She nods, eyes fixed firmly on the ocean instead of on me, definitely uncomfortable with the topic. “I go three times a week.”

“Do you have a lot of pain?”

“Um. There are good days and bad days, I guess? It kind of depends what I’m doing. Too much walking or standing around and it gets rough.” She takes in a deep breath. “Today’s not the best.”

The darkness is falling around us quickly, the pink and orange light over the sunset turning to gray. Her deck lights must be on a timer or a sensor because they flicker on behind us, casting her face into shadow. Somehow that makes it easier to ask my next question.

“Your hip was injured in the fire?”

She nods, her jaw so tight I think that’s all the answer I’m going to get until she clears her throat. “I, um, got stuck. A scaffolding fell on the side of the stage when the stampede started and I was right underneath it. Tore up my side pretty good.”

I have to fight off a full body shudder. Holy shit. She was trapped under a scaffolding while a fire raged around her? I think about what River told me earlier—she was one of the last people to make it out. My hand tightens on hers.

“So.” Her voice is falsely bright. “You’re probably st…starving, right? I made reservations at a little bistro a few miles away. We could… head over now, if you wanted. They’d probably seat us early.”

She’s stammering, voice shaky. “We don’t have to go anywhere, Eva,” I say. “I know you said it’s not always easy for you to get out and—”

“It was my turn to plan the date.” Her voice is sharp. “I don’t expect you to hole up in the house with me just because…just because…”

“Hey.” I pull her around to face me, hands on her shoulders, but she doesn’t look at me. I rub my thumbs over her bare skin, back and forth, over and over, trying to soothe her. “It’s been a busy few days. We had the gala and lunch the other day and—”

She cuts me off with a laugh, but it’s not the husky sound that always hits me right in the solar plexus. This time she sounds bitter, angry. “Yeah, big week. I went out twice.”

“I was actually talking about me,” I say, moving a hand up to cup her face, forcing her to look at me. “I’ve been working crazy hours and I’m honestly beat.”

She closes her eyes. “I’m sorry. I kind of had a shitty day.”

“You wanna tell me about it?”

She pulls away, returning to the railing, eyes fixed on the rapidly darkening horizon. “My manager is being…persistent,” she finally sighs. “He feels like I should be getting back to work, but I don’t think I’m ready.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “I haven’t written anything in more than a year. How does he expect me to just jump into a recording studio?” she rubs absently at her hip. “And I’m obviously in no physical shape to perform.”

I swallow hard, trying to keep the sick feeling in my gut from rising up. He wants her back to work. Writing music. Performing.

“You told him to fuck off, right?” I ask, voice rougher than I intended.

She looks over and manages a small smile. “That’s one of the many reasons I keep Marissa around. She loves nothing more than to tell Dennis to fuck off.”

I reach out without thinking, wanting to take away the desolate look in her eyes she’s obviously trying so hard to cover. I run a fingertip over the darkness under her eye. “Don’t let him pressure you, Eva. You need to put yourself first.”

She leans into my touch. “I try to tell myself that, but then I think about all the work I put into this career. All the sacrifices I made. What if he’s right and the world forgets about me before I’m ready?”

Then you can quit,I think to myself. Leave the fucking industry behind.

“And there’s Katherine to think of too,” she continues. “I mean, the whole reason I signed the record deal in the first place was to make sure I had the money to take care of her.”

My eyebrows go up. “You didn’t want to sign?”

She makes a face. “Not initially. That probably makes me sound like a spoiled baby, right?”

I can’t help the hopeful bubble in my chest. “Not at all.”

“I always wanted to do theater, ever since I was a little girl. I mean, I liked writing music, too, but my dream was always to be on Broadway. Being famous was never part of the plan.”

“So what happened?”

Her shoulders tense. “My mom got sick. I had already done a few smaller things, and then I got cast in my first off-Broadway show. Dennis saw me and offered me representation. Said he could get me a deal.”

“And you took it.” So she could take care of her sister.

She nods. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I loved writing and performing, I really did. I’m just having such a hard time seeing myself getting back into it right now.” She sighs, then turns away from the ocean, her fixed smile back in place. “We were talking about dinner?”

“Let’s stay in.”

Her eyes search mine and I don’t miss the hopeful glint in them. “You’re sure?”

I grin, bringing my hands up to cup her jaw. “Honestly, Eva? A little privacy with you sounds damn good right about now.”

She finally relaxes against my hands even as her cheeks stain red. “Privacy sounds great.”