“Okay. See you soon.” I ended the call and took a long shower. I changed clothes tens of times before settling on a pair of light blue jeans and a pale pink sweater.
I made my way down the stone steps just as a white town car was pulling into the circular driveway. Our butler rushed to the back door and opened it for my mother.
“Well, hello there, Kate.” She smiled, her eyes hidden behind a new pair of designer shades. “Are you taking a quick break before your next practice session?”
“No, I’m done for the day. I’m going out with someone to relieve some stress.”
“I don’t remember you asking if you could go out tonight.”
“I didn’t think I needed to.” I shrugged.
“I see,” she said, stepping closer. “Well, we’re days away from our family profile in Vogue, a week and a half away from your performance at the new symphony theater in Las Vegas, and not to mention, weeks from my annual Christmas party. Don’t you think that you need to ask to take time off at a crucial point like this?” She smiled. “You could at least say how long you think you’ll be gone.”
I held back a sigh and looked at my watch. “I’ll be back by three or four.”
“So, this isn’t a half hour or so of stress relief.” She lifted her shades and looked into my eyes. “This sounds like a date. Who is it with?”
“James.”
“James of the Overly Estate, or James of the Madison Estate?”
“No estate. It’s just James. James Garrett.”
“Oh, well that’s slightly disappointing.” She let out a breath. “You know, Kate, at your age, I don’t really care who you date. But what I do care about is how you’re going to make this family look during high profile events, so you’ll need to stay in this evening and rehearse. Tell this James of ‘no estate’ that you’ll need to reschedule your little meet-up for some other time.”
“I’ll be more than fine,” I said. “I’ve already rehearsed today.”
“I know, I heard most of it.” She tilted her head to the side. “It wasn’t moving or awe inspiring in the slightest. For a moment, I thought it was Sarah Kay playing and not you.”
I gritted my teeth.
“I want to hear Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major by Bach, The Swan by Camille Saint-Saens, and The Cello Concerto in B Minor by Dvorak, reverberating through my hallways all night, and I want to feel moved by each and every string you play. Are we clear?”
I stared at her, half tempted to say, “Screw you” and walk past her anyway. “I’ve been rehearsing all day,” I said, keeping my voice firm. “If what you heard wasn’t good enough for you, I’ll try it again tomorrow. After I take a break for the rest of the night.”
“I’m sorry, did you not hear a word of what I just said?”
“I heard you loud and clear.” I wasn’t backing down. “He’s on his way to meet me now, so I’m going to head down to the tower and call him.”
“Fair enough. Can I borrow your phone for a second?” she asked.
I handed it to her without thinking, and the moment it was in her grasp she tossed it over the balcony and into our estate fountain.
What The. Fuck? My jaw dropped. Any words I wanted to say instantly locked in my throat, and I watched my iPhone slowly sink under the lily pads.
“There,” she said. “Now you don’t need to call him, and you can focus on what really matters for the rest of the night. Whenever he shows up, I’ll have Bernie tell him that you underestimated how busy you are. I’ll also make sure to send him away with a nice piece of dessert for his ride away from this estate.”
I felt my blood boiling, felt my fists clenching at my sides.
“You’re not angry with me are you, Kate?” She grabbed one of my fists and slowly uncurled it, finger by finger. “Only one of us is depending on a thirteen-million-dollar inheritance when she turns twenty-one. The other one of us is holding all the cards and gets to determine whether or not it’ll be awarded by then.”
I said nothing.
“I’ll have one of the housekeepers fetch you a new phone tomorrow.” She smiled. “I’m looking forward to hearing some beautiful notes floating through my hallways within the next twenty minutes.” She walked away without another word, and it took everything in me not to rush behind her and tackle her to the ground. To not throttle her and scream about how much of a bitch she was.
To hell with this…
I rushed into the house, returning to our home auditorium and slammed all the doors shut. I opened a laptop and connected it to a speaker. Then I scrolled through YouTube videos in search of other cellists who were playing the songs she’d requested.