Page 25 of Royal Darling
“Everyone can sing. I’ll sing with you. Go ahead.”
I start playing again, the notes coming a little easier, and his deep voice joins in. He nudges my shoulder and I hum a little, blushing, and stumble on the chord. I shake my head and start again, Jackson quietly watching me.
I stare at the guitar, pleased I can play a simple song.
“We’ll work up to singing, yeah? No judgment.”
I lift my head, smiling, and hand him his guitar. “Thank you, Jackson, for everything. For coming here with me, for teaching me, for putting up with my brother. It means a lot to me.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” He stares at his guitar. “This is the first time I’ve played my guitar in four months.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“I couldn’t. I tried, and I don’t know.” He traces a finger over the inked swirl on the front. “I just lost my drive, my passion for it.”
“Keep playing.”
I stand and slip out of the room, hoping he’ll continue in privacy.
I stop in the hallway, listening. A few moments later, I hear him strumming “House of the Rising Sun” and singing along quietly.Yes.I break out into a wide smile, tipping my head up, my eyes closed, letting the music wash over me, lifting me up.
7
Jackson
I open the refrigerator in search of breakfast, pumped from my guitar lesson with Emma. It’s early for me, but I’m ultra-awake. The buzz of discovering music like it was way back in the beginning through teaching her caught me by surprise. This simple lesson made all the pressure of creating something great or original disappear. Hearing her hesitant notes gain in confidence, her self-conscious humming, that beginner’s eagerness just opened up something in me. I never thought of teaching before, but passing on the gift of music to an eager student blew my mind.
I find some eggs and milk, a loaf of bread, and make myself toast and eggs. Pretty much the limit of my culinary talent. This place was stocked for us ahead of time, which is really cool. I don’t even mind Lucas being suspicious of my intentions. He should be, with my rep. There’s no shortage of women on the road, but I gave up on groupies after Charlie died. I gave up most of my vices then cold turkey—no groupies, no cigs, no weed. I cleaned up because he became a cautionary tale. Fucking hell, I miss him. He’d been with me since I first picked up guitar at fifteen and we formed a band. He would’ve got a kick out of Emma, probably doing a killer impersonation of her posh accent.
After breakfast, I put on my boots and leather jacket and explore the grounds. It’s an amazing view, looking out over the lake, hills in the distance. There’s a built-in pool with a stone poolhouse, a stone patio with cushioned chairs and chaise lounges, along with scattered benches to take in the view. It’s quiet here. The house is on a plot of land far from its neighbors. Fame steals your privacy, and money buys it back.
I take a seat on a bench facing the lake and stretch out my legs. I like being on land looking at the water better than the other way round. The houseboat was borrowed from a mate, who hasn’t used it since his marriage three years ago. I wanted it for the privacy more than anything. But this private villa in Italy works even better. I’ve got more room, company if I want it, and a caretaker to deal with stuff.
“Mind if I join you?” a deep voice says from behind me.
I’m not surprised to see Lucas. I have a feeling now I’m going to get The Talk. “Yeah, man, have a seat.”
“Never get tired of this view,” he says, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them. It’s a little cool and he’s only wearing a light blue button-down shirt, no jacket. He must’ve rushed out here for the chance to speak with me alone. “You eat?”
“Yeah, I had something earlier.”
He nods.
Silence except for the sound of the gently lapping water. I wait. The silence stretches so long, I’m beginning to think he just wanted to enjoy the view.
Finally, he speaks. “I’m thinking about heading to Milan, about an hour drive, you up for it?”
“Nah, I’ll sit tight here.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to be in the public eye right now.”
“Maybe tomorrow. Mondays are pretty quiet around here. We could bring one of the guards to keep the press away.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
He drums his fingers on his leg. “It’s so dead around here.”
