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Alec sighed, twisting in his hands the note his brother Jace had left attached to the fridge door.
“Hell, I strained my wrist working out, you know I’ve been hired tomorrow evening to play at a wedding ceremony, please replace me, we can’t lose this chance. It’s going to be a big party, with plenty of VIPs, so we can’t afford to drop out of it last minute. I mailed you a file with the requested playlist, there’s nothing you can’t catch up with in a few hours.. PRETTY PLEEEASEEEE…. (I know you love me, don’t you?)”
Alec sighed once more. Looked like his reckless brother couldn’t give up to his daily training and of course he had to tackle his mess.
Not for the first time, actually. But Jace was right: they had gained themselves some reputation as musicians, thanks to their parents who had pushed them to learn and practice playing piano, so they were often hired for parties and private celebrations, and this helped them to pay for their studies, a good income added to their scholarship. This allowed them to live in a small flat of their own, instead of sharing a room at the college dorm with some weird frat fellow.
Alec was extremely grateful for that: he wasn’t an extroverted person at all, he liked to choose carefully, among all his acquaintances, a few selected friends he had some interests in common with – books, music, conversations – and hated partying or getting drunk like so many college fellows did so often. Jace too, though being more a people person than his brother, was very serious about his studies and didn’t want to waste time, so being able to choose their own private haven had been precious.
Hence, they couldn’t afford to bail out of that wedding on such a short notice. More so, it was a VIP wedding, the heirs of two of the most prominent families in the city, even the Mayor was going to join the party. It could be their chance to be spotted, earning that assignment had been a lucky fluke.
Alec opened his mailbox to have a look at the playlist: okay, nothing too difficult to play, but the list was huge, and covered many kinds of music, to likely meet all the guests’ tastes. He started to print all the necessary scores from their archive and poured himself a large cup of coffee. It was going to be a very long evening.
§§§
The ceremony room was astonishing. The walls were decorated with panels in blue and gold – apparently significant colors for the bride and the groom. All the chairs were covered with white fabric, each one adorned with a white and gold bow, and a blue and gold carpet ran from the entrance to the ancient wooden desk, behind which the Mayor himself was waiting for the spouses. Two high-backed, golden framed chairs were positioned in front of the desk and a large, ancient-looking book was placed on it, ready to host the signatures of the new couple after they had recited their vows.
The guests had already gathered, each one sitting in their assigned seat, that, Alec knew, assessed how much prominent they were. He also spotted some journalists among the crowd patiently waiting outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ceremony. Of course, it was a celeb wedding, people who was under the spotlight every day, so used to be photographed and to find themselves onto magazines, their lives under scrutiny for a hungry audience.
Alec wondered what this could mean: theirs were privileged lives, yet feeling so exposed, while people envied you, meanwhile waiting for you to make a wrong move, was totally scaring. He shrugged; this wasn’t his business, his life was much less complicated, after all.
Wrapped in his black tux, he sat at the piano, ready to start playing as soon as the ceremony would begin. Some murmuring from the crowd drew his attention: suddenly the doors opened, and the groom made his entrance, flanked by his parents.
Alec found himself staring at him. He was beautiful.
A taller, masculine, handsome version of his mother, but sporting his father’s peculiar eyes – a weird combination of green and gold – he was astonishingly gorgeous. A slender, muscular frame wrapped into a white tux embroidered with gold, makeup highlighting his sparkling eyes and his prominent cheekbones, he was slowly walking into the room like a king joining the crown ball, proud and dominant. But Alec, perceptive as he usually was, caught something different behind that mask, like a sort of slouch, a tiredness, a sense of unhappiness, unusual in a groom. Alec wondered what he could hide, but once more, it wasn’t any business of his; he snapped out of his thoughts and started playing the planned melody.
§§§
Magnus was aware that he shouldn’t have met his bride the night before the wedding. It was tradition, both within his family and hers. But he was restless, elated for what’s coming the day after, and needed to share his excitement with the most important people of his life.
Incapable of retaining himself, he called his best woman-best friend ever Catarina.
“Magnus, what’s happening?” she questioned, concerned as usual about his well-being. She had never been a huge fan of his relationship, she did believe Camille was a manipulative bitch and Magnus a tender hearted fool who couldn’t grasp how much she played with his feelings. She had tried to warn him warily, but he was head over heels for the woman and finally Cat had given up, hoping to be wrong and wishing for her dear friend’s happiness.
“Oh Cat, I’m so high! I can’t wait to be Camille’s husband. I need tomorrow is already happening, now!”
“Well, I’m happy for you, Magnus. But you should rest, tomorrow is going to be a hell of a day, and you need all your strength. More so, you know your parents invited some celebs and journalists, and you must be in your best shape to bear the whole circus”.
“Fine, I know. But I need to have Camille beside me, Cat. You know we’re supposed to spend this night apart from each other, but fuck tradition, I want to see her and talk until we fall asleep together!”
Magnus could feel Cat rolling her eyes through the phone, but he was too happy to care. Yet, her words were kind as usual.
“Magnus, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Anyway, what do you want from me, baby? My blessing?”
Magnus sighed. “No, actually. I only wanted to hear from you that you approve of that. Don’t you?”
“My opinion doesn’t matter, darling – Cat replied – Do as you feel right”.
Magnus smiled. “Your opinion does matter, always, my friend. But…I think I’ll do that. I’ll take a cab and go to Camille’s hotel, just for a couple of hours, okay? Just to talk. I need to blow some steam off”.
__
Half an hour later Magnus found himself in front of the entrance of the luxury hotel Camille had chosen to spend her night before the wedding. Taking a deep breath, he walked in and asked the employee behind the desk for Camille’s room number.
The girl looked suddenly worried.
“Sorry, mister, miss Belcourt left instructions not to be disturbed until tomorrow morning”.
“Sure thing – Magnus said – but this can’t apply to me, I’m her fiancé and soon-to-be husband, precisely tomorrow”.
“I know, mister Bane, I’ve often seen you on magazines and TV, but I don’t think I can give you this information”.
“And why not, for heaven’s sake?”. Magnus was losing his temper.
“It’s my job to fulfill customers’ requirements, mister Bane”.
The girl was right, Magnus had to admit that. Yet she was so reluctant, a bit too much, and Magnus started to feel a dread of something too nagging to be ignored.
“Miss, I appreciate your job ethic but really, I need to talk to my fiancée. Please.”
Something in Magnus’ look might convince the loyal employee, and she surrendered, giving him the room number.
Magnus smiled gratefully and headed the lift.
__
Standing in front of Camille’s door, Magnus was being pervaded by a cold feeling. He didn’t understand why, but his brain was telling him that something was wrong, painfully wrong. Why, he couldn’t get, but also, he couldn’t shake off that sensation. He landed an ear to the door, feeling ashamed of eavesdropping but he couldn’t help but do it.
Someone was chuckling inside the room. Two voices?
Wasn’t Camille supposed to be alone?
A friend, maybe?
Camille hadn’t told him anything about a meeting.
And he was hearing a…male…voice…
Magnus grabbed the knob without much hope it could be unlocked, but actually it was. He slowly turned it to open the door and walked inside in the dark. A dim light was coming from the adjacent room of the suite, and the chuckling was clearer now: more a laughter, followed by moans.
Magnus closed his eyes, more and more scared. But he needed to know, he needed to see what was happening with his own eyes, refusing to believe what his ears were listening to and what his heart was painfully feeling.
There, laying on the wide bed, stayed Camille. In her sexiest lingerie – a Magnus’ birthday gift.
With a man. A naked man.
They were hugging and caressing, whispering sweet nothing to each other, smiling and kissing.
Magnus felt himself being petrified at what he was watching, his mind fuzzy, mouth open.
He should have released a strangled sound he wasn’t aware of, because the two lovers stopped making out and Camille slowly turned her face towards him.
“Magnus…!” she exclaimed. But she didn’t look scared or ashamed for being discovered. She looked…amused.
“Magnus – she repeated – what are you doing here? We weren’t supposed to meet tonight, were we?”
But Magnus couldn’t utter a single word.
“Did you lose your tongue, baby? May I help you?”.
Then she addressed his partner. “Sorry, dear, I did believe he would have stayed home tonight. You know, newlyweds and all…”
“Don’t worry, baby. Where were we though?” he answered.
“Just a minute, dear, I need to deal with my…fiancé. Magnus – she told him – I think you should go back home. See you tomorrow, right?”. Then her gaze became somehow devilish. “I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t believe you might call off our wedding. Can’t you hear your parents cursing already? Can’t you read already the most important magazines feasting upon you, the…cuckhold – she added cruelly – even before being a husband, what a juicy matter for a greedy audience….”.
Magnus saw himself pick up a gun and shoot him – or both. Then he saw himself walk away smirking, hide somewhere, the police chasing him. Himself ending up in jail.
Then he stared at his hands. Was he a coward?
He turned on his heels and ran away.
§§§
And here they were.
His proud parents, their smiling guests, VIPs and top dogs, journalists.
Their wedding was a big deal for the city chronicles, everyone was waiting to see the gorgeous, elegant, wealthy, famous couple to become husband and wife. The planned reception was going to be one of the biggest events of the elite season.
Magnus couldn’t see anything, his mind fuzzy, everything blurring around him. The only picture he could see was that image engraved into his brain, the entwining frames of the two lovers, Camille’s smile, that man’s voice saying “Where were we?”.
Right, where were they? Magnus didn’t know. He was walking inside the ceremony room like walking in a dream – a nightmare.
That morning, Cat had got something was wrong. Instead of looking elated like he was the day before, Magnus was thoughtful and silent. She also had caught him wiping some tears, but he had blamed his makeup and had dismissed her worries. Cat was such a good friend and didn’t push. Later, she would wonder if she should have to.
Camille had been right. He hadn’t dared to call off the wedding.
He couldn’t.
He was figuring out the guests’ astonishment, his parents’ disgust, his in-laws blaming him and pitying their poor daughter so cruelly humiliated.
And what about the Mayor? And all his father’s business partners?
He couldn’t.
But he wondered what his life was going to be, aware of his wife’s entertainments. And what if his own colleagues knew his wife was used to cheat on him? Maybe precisely with one of those colleagues?
All these thoughts were whirling inside Magnus’ mind, making him more and more confused. And apart from his concerns about his social persona, a single thought was making his heart painfully clench: Camille didn’t love him. Had she ever been in love with Magnus? He didn’t know anymore.
Was he supposed to survive in a loveless marriage? He didn’t know either. Magnus was a dreamer – a fool, he was realizing right now – who believed in love and in soulmates, and he had truly been sure Camille could be his. She clearly wasn’t.
Meanwhile, he had reached the desk behind which the mayor was waiting. His mother kissed him, his father hugged him; he stood beside his seat. Everyone was anxious to watch the bride, at last.
And here’s the bride, making her way along the carpet, arm-in-arm with her father.
She was stunning, wearing a white, long-sleeved dress, embroidered in silver and blue, her pale back completely naked, her face hidden behind a bridal veil – but her blood-red lips strained in a small smile.
__
Alec was playing the wedding march. He hated that piece of music, so pompous and stale, wondering why people couldn’t choose something more appealing. But that was the list he had been commanded to play. Maybe he could play something different later, when the guests would be so drunk or sleepy they couldn’t realize what they were listening to.
While his fingers automatically moved on the ivories, he was looking at that bride, and couldn’t avoid feeling a shudder along his back. He didn’t know how and why, but his heart was perceiving that something was deeply wrong there: the groom’s grim look, the bride’s tight-lipped smile. Everything sounded off-key, if he had to choose a musical metaphor.
The bride had walked the aisle and sat at her place. The groom sat too. But Alec saw he looked restless, his knees bouncing up and down while he was frantically rubbing his hands.
The Mayor welcomed the couple, their parents and all the guests, starting a boring – and likely false – speech about the beauty of a couple marrying out of love, asking the audience to join in celebrating the joyful event and encouraging the newlyweds to declare their vows.
__
While Camille was reciting her vows, Magnus couldn’t remember his own. He was profusely sweating and couldn’t feel his hands anymore. He glanced around, their parents’ happy faces, the pretty satisfied look of the Mayor… and Camille staring at him, that small devilish smile onto her red mouth, her tiny pointed white teeth peeping behind those red lips.
He started panting, his breath ragged, a weight being loaded onto his chest, making him suffocate. Torn between his duty and his soul, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a well-known face, a face his mind couldn’t forget, and a voice resounded into his ears: where were we, though?
ENOUGH!
He released Camille’s hands he had been gripping while she recited her vows and backed off a little.
“I can’t breathe” he whispered. “I can’t do this”.
Camille stopped speaking and opened her eyes wide. Then a threatening scowl appeared on her pretty face.
“What are you doing, Magnus?” she angrily murmured “Do you have a death wish?”
Just like drowning into a dream, Magnus moved away a bit more.
“I don’t care – he replied – I don’t… I can’t…”
And ran away. Once more.
__
Just like any other viewer, Alec was watching in awe the drama unravelling in front of him. So his sensations had proved to be right, something bad happened to the newlyweds. He was hearing the whispering and the exclamations of the crowd, he was looking at the astonished, then angry faces of the weds’ relatives, at the scowl disfiguring the bride’s angelic appearance. Then a man came out of the crowd and approached the bride; and Alec got the truth.
He stood from the piano stool – he suspected that his musical skills weren’t required anymore – and tried to have a better look of the whole scene. It wasn’t that hard, being one of the tallest men there. While he was leaning forward, though, he saw the groom running away towards the exit. Towards Alec.
Alec didn’t allow himself to think too much about what he was going to do and walked out of the crowd, letting the groom bump into him.
He didn’t know why he was feeling like he had to do that, his protective instinct just kicked in. The groom looked disheveled and devastated, and Alec feared the worst. What if he was going to do something irreparable? Alec felt like he did when his reckless siblings put themselves in danger; he was a protector – wasn’t his name Alexander? – and he acted such, grabbing the groom by his shoulders and bringing him outside, far from the madding crowd (and yes, he was a booklover!).
§§§
Magnus suddenly realized he had been stopped. He tried to yank himself free, but he couldn’t, two strong arms were holding him and didn’t let him go. After a while and a useless fight, Magnus lost his strength and surrendered to that grip. He was done, he couldn’t care less about what’s happening, he was sick and tired, he wished he could disappear, hoping that the earth opened in front of him, swallowing him and his pain.
Those arms didn’t look like they would let him fall. Yet there was such a kindness and a sort of tenderness, in that grip, like those arms belonged to someone who cared for Magnus, and he started crying and sobbing, turning around and burying his face onto a solid, warm chest.
A gentle hand started rubbing his back, while a soft, low voice was whispering that it was going to be okay.
It wasn’t. But there was something consoling in those sweet whispers so as Magnus could almost believe that.
He raised his gaze to find himself looking into a couple of hazel eyes, clearly worried and oh, so tender.
“Who…are you?” Magnus asked quietly, sobs subsided, his breath slowly evening.
A crooked smile welcomed his words. “Well, I’m Alec…the pianist you hired for the ceremony. But I suspect you don’t care, right now. How do you feel?”
“Wrecked – Magnus replied. Then he sighed – but strangely relieved”.
“Ha – Alec exclaimed, still smiling – it was a hell of a wedding! No one can forget it soon”.
Magnus winced. “I know…but I couldn’t keep on going through the whole charade. I realized, too late, sure, I really couldn’t”.
Suddenly Alec realized he was still holding Magnus tight into his arms, and let his grip loosen a bit, abruptly shy.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with, but..what about a drink? I mean, if you want to. To relax”.
Magnus looked at himself and his wedding, sparkling tux. “I’d love that, but I’m a bit…flashy, you know? Dressed like that. And I want to get rid of everything could remind me of this day, right now. I’ve enough to face tomorrow, parents, people, magazines, I don’t want to think about that for a while. Let’s take a cab, go to my place for changing clothes, then – he stared at those gentle eyes – I’m going to accept that drink and have a talk with you. If you want to listen to me, of course, if you have time” he added sheepishly.
The smile on Alec’s face grew wide. “Of course I do! But…um…I’ll have to borrow some clothes from you, if you don’t mind, a…less formal attire”.
Magnus’ laughter filled the air, sounding like music to Alec’s ears. Maybe this was going to become his favorite music ever.