Sing Me To Sleep Part 30

"Right. I'm sorry. You are distracting."

He leans forward, rests his arms on his knees, and clasps his hands together. "I spoke with my director, and she talked to the AYS conductors. They want you. You're in."

"The AYS?" I shake my head, stunned. "What are you talking about?"

"The Amabile girls' directors listened to your rendition of *Take Me Home.' Auditions were last spring, but they'll make an exception for you."

"How does this get us together?"

"They practice Tuesdays. We can hang out before and after. On Friday nights we have chamber, the best girls and guys. You and me sitting together and singing. We can go out after. Every Friday like clockwork. We'll be together at festivals and extra practices."

I tense up. "Why can't we just hang out on the weekends?"

He leans back on the couch and stares at the blank television. "My weekends are pretty full. After our Choral Olympics win, everyone wants us. It's going to be a head rush. I want you there for as much as possible."

I wrap my arms around my torso. "Can't I just be a groupie in the crowd?"

"No. I want you part of it. Don't you want to sing with me again?"

I close my eyes and remember those amazing impromptu moments with him on the stage. The taste of the mike. The magic of the crowd screaming our names. The elixir of his lips on mine. Who wouldn't want more of that? I open my eyes and nod. "I do want to sing with you."

"My music."

"Yeah."

"We'll do it together."

"Sure." I nod my head.

He's nodding along with me. "And you'll get to sing with the AYS. We're touring together next summer. Think what that would be like."

Touring together. An international flight together. Days and days. It sounds so good. But . . . "Me? Singing with the AYS?" I can't get my head around that one.

Derek smiles and keeps me nodding.

"But my choir practices Tuesdays. I can't-"

"Do both."

"I have to leave my choir?" I feel guilty for being impatient with them last night. Feeling like I was too good. Terri planned our entire season around me. I've got four pieces with solos this year. Not just one.

"They aren't good enough for you. You owe it to your talent to sing in the best choir you can."

"The AYS are the premier choir in the world."

He leans forward and clasps his hands in front of him, so earnest, so handsome, so devastating. "And they want you."

I turn my back on him. I can't decide if I keep looking at him. "I'm going to have to think about it. The drive-"

"We're way closer to Port than Ann Arbor is."

"What's it like in the winter? You guys are on the s...o...b..lt side of the lake."

"Brand new highway. Always plowed. I don't want you driving through Detroit anymore."

The protective note in his voice doesn't make me angry like it should. It makes me want to go over to the couch and tell him I'll do anything he wants. Then I remember Bliss. He wants me to leave them. "Terri will die. I'm her only star. She invested in a lot of great stuff for me to sing."

"She'll get over it. She should be happy for you."

I hate that his answers are all so true. "The AYS are going to hate me."

"Certainly not."

"Don't be stupid. First, I steal you. Then I barge into their choir and steal the solo spot."

"I didn't say they were giving you the solos. Those you'll have to earn on your own. They have about six soloists. The compet.i.tion will be tough but good for you."

"So I'm going to sit by your ex every Tuesday? She'll let me have that spot beside you in chamber?"

"She'll like you as much as I do. They all will. I'll tell them they have to."

I turn around and pull a face at him. "You have that kind of power over an entire choir of mega-talented women?"

"Of course." He manages not to smirk.

"You're full of it."

He sits up and gets all innocent looking. "They want me to be happy. When they see how happy I am with you, they'll welcome you like a long-lost sister."

I shake my head. "I can't do this. I can't abandon my choir."

He stands up. "Get something to eat. Chamber practice starts in an hour and a half and you're coming with me."

"Tonight?" I don't follow his lead. "Now?"

"Yes." He nods.

I'm glued to the couch. "No."

"I already told them you would. Kind of an informal tryout."

"Great." I lean back on the couch and stare up at him, finally starting to get steamed. "No pressure there."

"Pressure is a good thing. It makes you stretch."

"I'm tall enough already, thank you."

"Three more inches and you'd really be s.e.xy."

Three more inches? I'd be a skysc.r.a.per. "Let's stay around here tonight. Go to a movie. Watch TV. I cleaned my room."

He shakes his head. "I have to go to practice. And I promised you'd be there."

"I wish you would have discussed this with me first."

"I didn't think it would be an issue. I thought you'd be falling all over me with grat.i.tude." He comes over and sits beside me on the couch. "Please, Beth." He cups my face in his hands and kisses me long, slow. "I want to be with you." He kisses me again. "This is the best way." He pulls me close against his chest. "Come sing with me."

"This kind of persuasion isn't fair."

He keeps kissing me, presses me down on the couch with his body. My womanly senses go berserk. He kisses me once like that and gets up. "You coming?" He gives me his hand.

Of course, I take it.

I hate that he's so confident.

I hate that he takes for granted I'll agree to whatever he comes up with.

I hate not knowing his secrets.

"If I come tonight, you have to tell me-"

His eyes get pained. "Don't go there, Beth."

Then I hate myself for prying, probing the tender spot, hurting him, but I do it anyway. "What are you on?"

"We don't have that kind of time."

"I do."

"Stop this, Beth. It's not going to work if you keep asking me."

That scares me. I'll put up with anything to make this work. Even drugs. Even not knowing. Even going along with this crazy plan.

We get sandwiches, I call Mom, and we launch into the night, Derek on his bike, me in my car. I follow Derek over the Rainbow Bridge that crosses the Saint Clair River before it dumps itself into Lake Huron. We only have to wait at the border for about ten minutes. Once we get into Canada, we're on that new freeway Derek bragged about. It is well maintained. This is Ontario. Nothing like the broken-up mess we drive on around Detroit. Not much traffic. Perfect for Derek to kill himself on. I can't keep up with him. I don't try. I'm not going to encourage him with even a hint of a race. He keeps circling back to find me and racing off again. Jeannette has a hard time over seventy. He's going a lot faster than that. I couldn't race if I wanted to.

The buzz of his bike turns into the drone of an organ, and I'm back in that dream. This time it is a nightmare.

I'm in my lacey white Christine dress again, kneeling by the side of the freeway, cradling Derek's broken body in my arms, headlights beating against us. The organ gets loud and screechy, the orchestra comes in, cymbals cras.h.i.+ng, violins on hyperdrive. I look up at the sky and sing, but I don't sing like Christine this time. My voice is tortured madness.

No, G.o.d, you can't have him.

You gave him to me.

He's mine.

He's all I ask for.

This boy I can adore.

I imagine ambulances arriving and paramedics rus.h.i.+ng toward us. I put out my hand and screech- No one else come near him.

He sees only me.

My love

Can never harm him.

My touch will ever warm him.