Shadows & Strings

Kenji's words replay in my head. His warning. His threat.

I've never seen him so angry. A continuum of odium incurred by Vanko's return.

He really knows how to wreak havoc, even if his 'intentions' are to rebuild. I don't trust him. Not even a bit. I would be a pitiful fool if I believed his sob story for even a moment. After all, 'it was all a joke', he said. But to get him off my back and make sure he never pulls a stunt like that again. I'll play along for now. He hasn't given me a choice, once again at his mercy, shackled to his will. He was prepared to risk it all yesterday if Kenji had not snitched on him, by snitching on me.

My salvation that might one day be my damnation.

"Hey."

Alexia catches my arm in the middle of the hallway.

"I've been calling you like your mama, telling you to do the dishes. Where you been?"

"Sorry, just stressed out. My phone is in repairs," I say with an artificially apologetic tone. "You good?"

Her face deadpans and indignation shoves the concern right off her face.

"You know the charity ball for the relief fund to help the orphans or whatever."

I flare an eyebrow.

"Don't give me that self-righteous look. We both know ninety-percent of donations end up lining the pockets of the benefactors."

I bob my brows in mute accord.

"Anyway, Alister wanted me to attend this elite event together. His father has the kind of connections to get me a free pass, but he vetoed it. No shocker that Mr richy rich hates the poor ethnic girl."

"You're not poor..." I say lamely.

She gives a 'shut the hell up' look. And I obey.

"Besides, the King's net worth dwarfs those of small countries. To him, we're all peasants." She gives me a pointed side-eye. "Except for you, princess."

"I know men like Mr King," I say, starting the walk to my next class. "He's just being protective. They assume those not in their elite circle are—"

"Gold-digging hoes?"

"I wouldn't have phrased it like that, but yes," I say with sincere remorse. "But once he knows what Alister knows, that you're not like that. He'll come around, eventually, I promise."

Fairly convinced, she gives me a look that's not a scowl, so I'll count it as a win.

"What subject do you have next?"

I open my mouth, but my lips snap shut. In the distance, past the bobbing heads, one towers above them all. Vanko leans his shoulder against the verge of the wall, staring at me, so fixated that he had even willed me to look at him. I rip my gaze away. The thought of Kenji gnawing at me.

"History, I think. You?"

"Chem, but I need the bathroom. Catch you at break?"

"Bet."

Fortunately, she walks in the opposite direction. I walk briskly to Vanko. When I'm close enough, I see that he's holding a white bag with the apple logo on it that appears to be fresh from the iStore. I breeze right past him, knowing full well he's going to follow me. My eyes scan the corridor and by what I can see, every classroom in radius is occupied. Except the broom closest. I hurry over to it. Unlocked, I push it open and I point with my eyes for him to enter.

"Seriously?"

I go inside first. And of course, he comes after me.

I pull on the light switch and the dim light chases away the darkness. Not at all bright but enough to see his face, which is even more frightening. Shadows crest his cheeks from the band of darkness cast over his eyes. And he does the most petrifying thing he can do. He smiles.

"Kinky. I like it."

"You can't be doing this—we can't be seen together."

"Like those forbidden romances?" His smile only lengthens. "I like even more."

"Kenji said if he catches you near me. He will tell my father everything. And he could easily get you transferred to another school or something. Which actually doesn't sound like a bad idea."

His expression grows grim, so much so it's like his face absorbs the darkness.

"So you get it now?" I say with a tinge of insolence. "Best to stay away from me."

"No-one other than us needs to know what's happening between us—"

"There is nothing happening between us."

"—my vow to you. Besides, I still need a tutor."

I free a long and vexed groan. "What have I gotten myself into?" I mutter to myself.

"Something exciting," he whispers back.

He holds up the bag and brings it to my face. I turn my head and I grab it.

"What's this?"

"For you."

I open it and I glide out an iPhone box. The latest iPhone.

"What is this?" I breathe.

"A new phone. There were cracks on yours. It was my fault, so I decided to fix it."

My jaw falls to my knees. "By buying me a new phone instead of just fixing the screen?"

He side-steps my remark. "I've already had the information from your old phone moved to the new one. Apps, photos, and contacts."

"No doubt your number is saved."

His horrific smile returns in full force.

"How did you get into my phone? It was password protected."

"Still waiting on a thank you."

I drop the box back in the packet, then I try to hand it back to him. "I obviously can't accept this. You can just give my phone back and I'll fix it myself."

"I knew you would say that," he said, slipping both hands into his pockets. "So I got rid of it."

My brows leap to my hairline. "You threw away my phone?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. You're holding your phone."

I cage in a frustrated scream, grinding my teeth. "You're unbelievable, infuriating, and utterly despicable."

"You smell nice."

"How am I supposed to explain this brand new phone?"

"Tell them your sugar daddy bought it for you."

I lurch for the door. He grabs my bicep. I freeze, no choice but to.

"I still need my private lesson... lessons," he says again to emphasize the plural.

"Thanks to my new phone. I'll text you. Not you tell me. No more ordering me around or strong-arming me into situations. Or I swear to God I'll tell my dad about you myself. I feel like a person who beat cancer only to be told it's back again."

That was enough to weaken his grip. I wrench my arm away and I gush out of the closet.

¬¬¬

"Are you listening?"

I look at mama. Only she and I at the dinner table.

She glances at my untouched food. "And here I thought the fettuccine alfredo would've at least cheered you up."

I muster a smile. I twirl the pasta around my fork before I sample a bite.

"Sorry, was thinking."

"I can see. Want to talk about it?"

I shake my head, stretching my tight smile. "No. What were you saying before?"

"Your father is hoping to meet potential investors at the ball this weekend. He's hopeful. But he doesn't want his political woes overshadowing a worthy cause."

"This weekend," I repeat exasperatedly.

"Yes, is that going to be a problem?" she asks in a way that there will be a problem if I answer incorrectly.

"Course not."

After a stale dinner, I clean up and I head back upstairs. I almost run to my music room that's adorned with posters of musical legends and shelves filled with sheet music. Once I set up the cello, and I have it resting against my shoulder. I close my eyes, preparing to immerse myself in the world unseen. With my fingertips resting lightly on the strings, I allow my mind to wander, freeing myself from the weight of the world.

The first notes resonate through the room, their timbre filled with both strength and vulnerability. I allow myself to feel. I allow myself to be free. My eyes open. Focused as my fingers glide effortlessly along the fingerboard, coaxing out a soulful melody that reverberates deep within.

Once I finish, the world yanks my spirit from serenity to cacophony.

"Melancholic."

I gasp, flinching like a frightened bird.

"If you won't confess your feelings to me." My dad nods at the cello. "It always could."

"I'm just... tired."

A burgundy tie is free around his neck. His glasses are placed on his head.

"Why don't you go get some rest, please. For me."

I rise from the stool and I place the cello back on the stand.

"I was thinking. Since the portions of these types of events couldn't fill a five-year-old. We go out to eat for dinner before the charity ball? Just us three."

A spot of light grows in my chest. "I'd love that."

"Good. Now go sleep."

I make a start for the door. I take a detour to hug him, drawing instant comfort. He holds me back and lays his cheek on my head until I'm ready to let him go. He takes my face gently and kisses the crown of my head.

"Your grandpa would be so proud of you. So you can only imagine my pride."

I smile bashfully at the ground, then I squeeze his hand before I leave for my room. Feeling absolutely weightless. I switch on the lights and a flashing light catches my attention. I almost wonder whose phone is on top of my dresser. I rally courage and inspect the notifications.

Ken: I'm sorry that I've been such an asshole.

Me: A caring asshole, so I can forgive that.

Ken: Seriously, I really didn't fully consider your perspective. What you're going through. After all this time, I can't see why he wants to sink his claws into you now.

Me: Yeah...

Ken: We should do something fun this weekend and forget all this shit.

Me: Booked saturday and sunday.

Ken: Friday night it is. I'll loop in Alex.

I smile. I read the other text message and my smile dies.

Hubby: When am I gonna see you?

Me: In your dreams.

Hubby: I have an ungodly habit of realizing my dreams.

Hubby: What you doing this weekend?

Me: Busy. And I'm not just saying that. I have an event with my dad–-social responsibilities if you can comprehend that. And other academic activities.

Hubby: so you want to make this difficult?

Me: I swear I'm busy. I have no time.

Hubby: Make time or I will make it for you

Me: OKAY. Thursday evening.

Hubby: It's a date.

Hubby: I mean a deal.

The first thing I do is edit the name he saved on this cursed phone.