Dark Dream (Love in Illyria Book 1) Page 3

  "Miss Taylor, please," the guy said. "It's my job to take you to the House."

  Helen's shoulders slumped.

  "Hey, Bill," Vy said reading the name off his badge. "You're supposed to take the wheelchair to the house and make sure she gets all right there, right?"

  "Actually, I should-"

  She interrupted him. "Come with us. If she gets tired, she'll sit in the chair. Okay?"

  "I really need to walk," Helen said. "As part of my physical therapy. Please, Bill."

  From the grin on Marvin's face, it was clear that even he knew the guy had no escape.

  "If you're not ok, you will seat on the chair immediately, right?" Bill asked.

  "I promise," Helen said.

  They walked at Helen's slow pace toward the Bracciano mansion which had been turned by IBC in the Sing House. The old mansion looked severely awkward behind all those vans parked in front and with the bright orange crane on the left side where they were building another set. Her godparents, Ivan and Leonie de Montrachet lived in a house built in the same style, and whenever she visited them, she had the sensation of time travel.

  The others didn't seem bothered by the barbarism.

  "Oh, wow!" Marvin said.

  "It looks amazing!" Helen said. "Don't you like it?"

  Vy's lips twitched. She had to learn to hide her feelings. There was no way she could explain what bothered her without sounding horribly posh and entitled. She settled on a non-committal shrug.

  When they got to the house, they checked their key cards.

  "29," Marvin said.

  "18," Vy said.

  "Oh, we're not roommates," Helen said. "I'm in 4."

  "You have the only room on the ground floor, Miss Taylor," Bill said. "Let me show you."

  Helen took a small breath. She set her shoulders and went after Bill without complaining. Vy smiled fondly at Helen's determination not to let such small things bring her down and started to follow Marvin up the stairs when she noticed Kate Redding talk to one of the giggling supermodels. Bill was leading Helen straight their way.

  "But it's near the kitchen," the tall, blond and gorgeous woman told Kate in an irritated tone. "Don't you understand I can't stay here? I have a very sensitive sense of smell. I won't be able to sleep. And my clothes will to stink of food."

  "Miss Dawson, I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do right now," Kate said patiently. "I will see about a swap after everyone is settled."

  The blond opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when she noticed Helen. She almost managed to cover the distaste at the sight of the crutches.

  "Miss Taylor," Kate said. "Room 4 is the most wheelchair friendly in the house. This way."

  Kate walked down the corridor with Helen, and Bill rolled the wheelchair after her.

  Vy sauntered over to the annoyed blonde.

  "You're staying here, too?" she asked when she saw Vy approaching. Her leg jerked a little as if she tried to stop herself from stomping her foot.

  "Nope. I don't know where my room is, but it has a 2 in front, so I'm guessing it's at least two floors away from the kitchen. I'm Vy," she said extending her hand.

  "Nikki Dawson," she said and she barely touched Vy's hand with her fingertips.

  Vy offered Nikki her key card. The woman crinkled her button nose and reached daintily for it.

  "Thanks," Nikki said, no trace of gratitude in her voice. "The girl from the staff has mine."

  "Kate," Vy said. "The girl from the staff's name is Kate."

  "Whatevah," the leggy blonde said, and walked away with her tiny designer clutch under her arm.

  "Your luggage?" Vy called after her.

  "Please tell the staff to bring everything to my room," she said over her shoulder.

  Vy shrugged and went in search of room 4.

  "Miss Dawson-" Kate said, and stopped when she saw her instead of Nikki. "Where is she?"

  "She'll be in room 22. Her highness requires that 'everything' should be brought there. How much is everything?" she asked. "Hey, kid, looks like you're stuck with me."

  Helen's squeal of surprise was accompanied by an unexpected hug. Vy froze under the unabashed PDA. Physical displays of affections were not the norm in the Cesara household.

  "Whoa!" she exclaimed, surprised both by Helen's hug and by the small fort made out of designer travelwear on the bed. "It's a lot of everything."

  "Are you sure you want to swap, Miss-" Kate said.

  "A-ha?" Vy interrupted her.

  Kate smiled and corrected herself. "Vy?"

  "Sure. My nose is not all that fussy."

  Bill had a suitcase in one hand, a carry-on in the other. Kate had a travelling bag on one shoulder and she was trying to find a comfortable grip on a suitcase. Vy took it out of her hand.

  "I'll carry this one," she said. "My stuff is probably in room 22 now. Right?"

  Kate nodded, and they filed out of the room. On her way out, Vy banged her ankle against the wheelchair.

  "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry," Helen said. "Bill insisted that the wheelchair has to stay here."

  Vy looked around the room. It was tiny compared to her own bedroom.

  "This thing," she said, pointing at the wheelchair. "Is it just me, or it doesn't look foldable?"

  Helen shrugged.

  "I'll take care of it," Vy said and hurried to catch up with Kate and Bill.

  It turned out that Vy's suitcase was not in room 22, but it was just at the left of the door to room 22. She dropped Nikki's suitcase unceremoniously and kicked it lightly before grabbing hers.

  "Thank you, Vy," Kate said.

  She waved and walked back to the common hallway between the two wings. Dean had said that male and female contestants lived in separate wings of the house, so she had to look for room 29 on the other side. In a few minutes, she was knocking on the door of number 29. A tall muscular guy opened it.

  "Who are you?" Vy asked.

  "Bryce."

  "Vy."

  She shook his hand, and bravely ignored the sensation of shattered bones. Marvin showed up from behind the big guy.

  "Something wrong?"

  "I hate to reinforce a stereotype, but I know my limitations. That wheelchair is taking up half our room and I don't know how to fold it or dismantle it. So, I need some guy-help."

  Marvin blushed and stammered.

  "I, umm, you see, I'm not actually very good with mechanical stuff either."

  "I am," Bryce said. "And I hate to re-enforce a stereotype as much as the next guy, but let me carry that suitcase for you."

  Vy relinquished her only but decidedly heavy suitcase happily. "Much appreciated, man. Come on."

  People were going up and down the stairs when Vy, Marvin and Bryce went back downstairs. She had to admit that compared to the elegance of the upper floors, the dark little hallway that led to their room was rather dingy.

  "Helen, I brought company. Can we come in?" she asked through the door.

  "Yeeees!"

  Once inside the room, she took the suitcase from Bryce and made the introductions.

  "Helen, this is Bryce. "

  Bryce gingerly shook Helen's tiny hand, and Vy couldn't help thinking of the Beauty and the Beast cartoon.

  "You weren't kidding," Marvin said, settling on a corner of Vy's bed. "You need all the space you can get in this room."

  "Yeah, our room is twice the size," Bryce said, recovering from the unexpected Disney moment. "Are you sure you won't need it?" he asked Helen, pointing at the wheelchair.

  "My physical therapist said I should avoid using it as much as possible."

  "All right then," Bryce said. "I'm actually a car mechanic, so I can do something to about it."

  "Are you really a mechanic?" Vy asked.

  "Yes. I've been working in a garage for the past five years."

  "That's so cool," Helen said.

  That was just about the sweetest reaction ever.

  "I loved how you sang at the audition," Helen s
aid.

  Bryce's fingers slipped and he scraped his knuckle on the spokes.

  "How did you hear him?" Vy asked. "We weren't allowed in the audience."

  "I snuck in," Helen said. She turned to Bryce again. "It's incredible how good you are, without ever studying music."

  Bryce's cheeks had turned pink while he bent over the chair. If he had seen the way Helen's eyes sparkled, he might have turned a brighter shade of red.

  "Thank you," he said. "Did you all study music?"

  "I study bel-canto at Orsino Conservatory," Helen said.

  "I took evening and weekend classes at the Music Academy since I was twelve," Vy said. "And I'm in a band with my brother and a few friends."

  "I went, I mean I still go, to the Fine Arts College in Larissa," Marvin said. "Popular Canto. I'm in a band with a few colleagues, too."

  "Wow," Bryce said. "It's going to be tough to keep up."

  "It won't be. Not with your talent," Helen said. "King is going to be great for you. He knows so much about music."

  Bryce stood up and wiped his brow. The wheelchair wasn’t dismantled, but at least it could be folded. "This is all I can do without tools, but at least now it fits under a bed."

  "It's great," Vy said.

  She knelt and pushed the wheelchair under her bed. Helen already had a couple of small suitcases under hers.

  "Thank you," Helen said.

  "Our job here is done," Bryce said slapping Marvin's shoulder.

  The blue haired boy winced and smiled at the same time.

  After they left, Vy went to the window. Unlike the garden behind her Leonie's house, the Bracciano mansion had an outdoor pool. A dozen pool chairs were already decked out, awaiting sun seekers. The vintage pool house on the far side echoed the architecture of the mansion. She might enjoy living there more than she expected.

  A few hours later, the contestants gathered in the main hall waiting for the Captains come in. A spontaneous round of applause greeted the four. Lauren made a dramatic bow. Ford flashed his dazzling trademark grin and the peace sign. King looked over the crowd with a distant but earnest smile. TC looked more intense than Vy had ever seen him. Alice had dragged her to the Rose Theater often enough to see Tim Carter on stage. The man was awesome in dramatic roles, but this was not a role. This was TC in full focus mode.

  And yet, Vy couldn't tear her gaze away from King. He must have seen over a hundred contestants since her audition, but when he met her eyes briefly, she could swear that she saw a spark of recognition in his dark and cold gaze. She was probably imagining it. He must have forgotten all about her.

  "Good evening, everyone," Lauren said. "Welcome to the Sing House! May you stay here as long as possible."

  Another round of applause broke out, but Carter's voice cut through it.

  "Team Carter. Music Room 1."

  People from her team extricated themselves from the crowd and went after Carter.

  "Welcome and let's get to work people," Ryann Ford said. "Everyone on my team, please come with me by the pool."

  "We have the mess room," Lauren said.

  "We're going into the common room," Andrew King said.

  A shiver ran down her spine at the sound of his voice. The man could make the walls shake when he sang, but he sounded so restrained. Serene. Like a teacher in front of a class. His voice at that moment reached deeper inside her than his songs ever had. She wished she was his.

  She felt like slapping herself across the back of her head. She was on TC's team. Andrew King was the enemy. She should stop dreaming about him as her Captain.

  Andrew

  The moment he stepped in the House, he saw her. She wasn't in the front row, she wasn't wearing anything extravagant. Her wild sand storm hair was tamed in a long ponytail, but she stood out as if they were the only two people in the room. And her eyes... He hadn't imagined that inner fire. He craved that on his team.

  Maybe it was better that she was not his. Not his contestant. Not on his team. He couldn't allow himself to want her any other way. She was just a girl, closer to Diane's age than his own. He didn't look after her when Carter's team left the foyer.

  In front of him stood sixteen young people, with their own passions and ambitions, with their own drive to win and it was his job to help them achieve the best they could be.

  He had done an initial top, based on their performance at the auditions.

  A camera crew recorded the scene. He didn't even notice them anymore. Since coming on Sing he'd been surrounded by IBC cameras when he was on set and he was followed around by hordes of freelance journalists when he was anywhere in public. He had always made a point to keep his life private, so they didn't stalk him to the extent they did it to other celebrities. That way he'd been able to keep the divorce secret.

  "I want to thank you again for trusting me with your journey on the show. I will put all my knowledge and energy into your training. I offer and require commitment to the craft. We are all here to win, and we are all here to learn. I believe that the next winner of Sing is in this room."

  That got a round of applause, but he didn't stop to soak it in.

  "The road will be short, but hard. At the end, I'm sure I'll learn from you at least as much as you will learn from me. This is important: learn from each other. You have different backgrounds and no matter how good you are, or how much you know, you shouldn't dismiss what someone else might have to teach you. That being said, some of you will leave the competition in a few weeks, others in a few months. Make the most of your time here. Now let's go around the room and introduce yourselves."

  He paid attention to each one as they spoke, filing away information like a machine. Not just what they said, but how they said it, how they handled themselves. Everything went into his system, to help him decide on the best to motivate them, and to challenge them.

  "My name is Michelle Farmer. I am twenty-two, I'm attending a Master's Program at the Orsino Conservatory, and I was his first," she said in a tone perfectly balanced between flirty and funny.

  Someone whistled, and almost everyone burst out laughing. He had to admit it was an interesting approach. He did his best to display exaggerated embarrassment making it clear it was ok to laugh.

  Michelle had one of the most educated voices on his team. She was also hands down the most gorgeous creature in the room. He had been satisfied that she had chosen him, but had she chosen anyone else, he wouldn't have minded. Her participation on the show was a net benefit, no matter in whose team she ended up. He had to be sure not to let her realize this, because it seemed to mattered to her that she was on his team.

  At the end of the evening, Andrew had made several assessments. He had some highly trained people. He had at least two people whose shyness bordered on crippling. And he had a few voices he loved for their warmth and strength but who wouldn't be able to go all the way to the final because he couldn't make up for their lack of practice in a few weeks.

  "Check your schedules, and be at practice in time, every time. I'll see you all tomorrow morning, in the music room. Welcome to Sing!"

  Chapter 5

  Andrew

  He liked being the first to arrive in Music Room 4. He made sure to be there at least half an hour before the first scheduled practice. He closed the door, sealing himself from the outside world.

  The very first day he'd asked Mike, the intern who had first given him a tour of the House, to help him with the calendar. The first episode would be on September 1. Until mid-November, when they had the live round, they were always going to have an offset between the time they recorded the episodes and the broadcast date.

  On his phone, he had the daily schedule for every day until they started recording the first-round episodes. He would be the first to admit he was something of a control freak. He had even requested from the production company the room assignments for his team. He had been tempted to request changes, but thanks to Christine, over the years he had worked on his issues and he stopped
himself from messing with his team's rooms.

  When it came to music, he didn't even contemplate doing anything less than his absolute best.

  He played a few ranges on the piano to warm up his fingers. He had been concerned that the wildly successful TV show might be less focused on quality behind the scene. Housing the contestants in this small palace, this perfectly tuned piano, the soundproofed room, everything spoke of great attention to details.

  The melody that filled the room was like a nightmare trying to escape from his mind. He'd been working on it for months, but he couldn't quite freeze it notes.

  No. Its place wasn't there. His songs were for his studio. Here he had to focus on training his team. A corner of his mind recorded every note that came out. He would re-do the song, obsessively, back in his own music room, then in his recording studio. It could take years until that song would ever make it onto a Wanderlust album.

  The door opened fifteen minutes before the official practice started. The shy boy with a perfect voice, Marvin Stark, was the first one through the door. Bryce Meisner, the tall, broad shouldered mechanic with no formal musical education and a warm powerful voice followed.

  "I told you it's open," Bryce said. "Good morning, Andrew."

  "Good morning," Marvin echoed, anxiety obvious in his voice.

  "Breakfast over so soon?" he asked.

  "We weren't all that hungry," Bryce said half-grinning, and came to shake his hand.

  The anxiety level seemed to go up a notch in Marvin's twitchy posture. He wondered which one had hurried the other from the table. Bryce looked like a guy who loved a big healthy breakfast. He winced when Bryce squeezed his hand.

  "Sorry," he said, and let go of it hurriedly.

  A feminine, very expensive fragrance reached him when the two boys got close. He couldn't name it, but Christine loved perfumes and he'd picked up a thing or two over their fifteen years of marriage. His boys had been busy. There was nothing in the rules about not "fraternizing" but making out with a girl the very first week was rockstar fast.

  The other people on his team arrived, in ones and twos. At the stroke of nine, everyone was in the music room. He liked that. It gave him hope that they were taking it as seriously as he was.