Autumn

Amelie Jenkins' stiletto heels echo through the main lobby of the hotel as she paces back and forth, scrutinizing each of us with an eagle eye.  She's looked at me three times, and each of those three times, it's been nearly impossible to figure her out.

In two hours, the show begins.

We've been rehearsing for three hours now, and for once, I'm not ready. Why would I be ready? It isn't the biggest performance of my life, after all. Most people would be crazy if they felt completely ready for this.

Of course, Ashleigh and Ashton Montblanc are huddled in the corner, practicing their Moulin Rouge cabaret routine.  The two girls with a theatre background are definitely more than ready.

"Most shows don't have a three-hour rehearsal and then start the same day." Amelie's voice is surprisingly raspy, almost like nails on a chalkboard. Her stomach is massive, almost ready to pop, and her hair is tied up into a messy bun. "Most shows are little fluff shows, with only slightly good singers, plucked from the depths of depravity. Then when the show's over, where do they go?" She stops and fixes her brown gaze on each of us. "Henningsen. Where do they go?"

Suddenly, every eye is on me. I don't flinch. My dad drilled me on this all the time when I was younger. "Nowhere. They go nowhere." Harley meets my eyes and gives me a small grin, one of those beautiful ones saved only for his best moments. He's excited about this and I couldn't be happier for him.  Happy Harley. 

That smile unravels me like yarn, cutting into my very being. 

Amelie doesn't acknowledge this. "Correct, Henningsen. They go nowhere. They go on the show, win, and think they're going to be somebody. They leave the show with a record deal that only lasts them a year. Before they know it, their five minutes are up." Amelie's piercing eyes don't leave mine. 

I sigh, longing to avoid the anxiety of one of Amelie's "pep talks." Most of them end in tears, some in anger. For me, they're ending in the icy hand of panic twisting my heart dry.

Everyone is watching me. What if I'm not good enough? 

Those eight words tear through my skull as Amelie dismisses us for rehearsal. "Come see me for your dressing room assignments." She says, heels clicking as she leaves the room. Everyone disperses, off to the revolving doors that spit out onto the streets to rehearse even more. I had never needed to practice more than an hour before completely knowing my set list for a show. I was a cover artist only, therefore it was easy.

Now, I feel this weight on my chest. I've never been afraid before. Not like this. I'm unsure if it's the fear of failing my absent parents or even Emery. Either way, it presses on me, a burden I'm not sure I want.

"Autumn," I hear a deep voice cut through my fears like a fog, "Autumn, what is it? What's wrong?"  Harley's hands are in mine, his bright eyes filled with worry. Shaking, I blink, hands resting against a soft velvet pillow. I must have found my way over to the hotel couch. I open my mouth to answer, but it is so hard for me to breathe.

 Shaking my head, I gasp, "I don't think I can do this, Harley. Everyone will be watching, just waiting for me to fail. They know who my father is and I'll be judged harsher than everyone else." Tears flow down my face and I know how pathetic I look. A Henningsen always controls their emotions. 

"Hey," Harley grabs my chin, turning me so our foreheads are an inch away from each other, "Autumn if anyone can do this, you can. I've seen you shine in a room of twenty-five people and you can shine in a room of thousands. You're a natural on that stage and nobody can take that away from you."

"What if I'm not good enough?"

"You're going to do great, Autumn," Harley whispers, wrapping me into a hug, "Don't let the shadows in the crowd stop you from becoming the artist you were born to be. My friend once told me this and I live by it." Something like sadness edges his voice, but it's gone before I can even tell. "Your music may be a spark right now but one day, Autumn, it'll become an inferno. Mark my words. You're a fucking genius and nobody here can match that."

Speechless, I hold him tighter, wondering how I came to have someone like him in my life. "You're pretty fucking amazing, Harley."

"I know, flamma," he says, pulling away, "You are too." Flamma. It was a word I had never heard before, one that rolled off of Harley's tongue. Before I had the chance to ask him what it meant, he grabs my hand and we stand. "Let's get out of here."

"Harley, we have less than two hours before we have to be onstage." 

Harley smiles again, dazzling me. "I know. Do you trust me?"

"No," I laugh.

Rolling his eyes, Harley pulls me out of the lobby, towards the bustling LA streets. "You do, Autumn. You just can't find it in yourself to admit it yet. And that's fine," he adds, shooting me a sideways glance, "I'll wait."

Struck speechless, all I can do is follow him outside.

"Harley," I gasp, spinning around to take it all in, "Where did you find this place?"

It's a massive botanical garden. A massive waterfall takes up half of the rear wall, casting rainbows as the skylight hits the water. The fragrant blossoms cast the room with an earthy smell of roses and lilies. There are separate paths to take, past massive willows, ferns, and dogwood trees. Benches line the rows, rocks lined up in an effort to keep the peace of the orange blossoms and dandelions.

"It's truly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I smile at Harley, who seems almost uncomfortable.

"It is," he says, and his eyes don't leave mine, "It's a hidden gem in a city filled with them."

I should feel uncomfortable under his piercing blue gaze. I feel bold, like a flame burning hot on a summer night.

"How long do we have?" I ask, taking his hand. He looks at me, eyes wide, as I lead him through the aisles of plants.

"Like an hour," Harley clears his throat, "I remember you always loving nature and I thought this would remind you of back home." 

"I wanted to be a botanist. Nature is one of the greatest blessings we could possibly have, and to be given the opportunity to study it would be the dream of a lifetime for me." Harley listens as I ramble, his eyes never leaving my face. His black curls are tossed haphazardly over his eyes and he lifts a hand to wave them out of his face. "Of course, being a musician has been in my future since before I could walk. Anything else was just out of the question for me."

Harley adjusts a plain black ring on his thumb before answering, "Would things be different if your father wasn't who he was?" We reach the muddier parts of the garden, and I stop to roll up the cuffs of my gray sweatpants. Harley doesn't let go of my hand, even though the bottom of his jeans is completely brown.

"Maybe," I muse, "Music is in my blood. Emery tried, but her talents were elsewhere. She's a genius, just like our mom." I sigh, suddenly missing Emery. In an effort to distract myself, I ask "What about you? I feel like you know everything about me, but I know next to nothing about you." We walk past the purple, pale pink, and red carnations. I let go of his hand to smell one of the blossoms, but before I can, he swiftly plucks a red one off its stem. 

Handing it to me, he ignores my shocked eyes. "Think of it as a good luck charm." Harley stiffens, leather jacket stretching against his thin frame, "You don't need to know much about me. My father was an abusive ass, my mother died, and my brother is out there somewhere. I've pretty much been relying on Jayden and the band since I was little. They raised me, and I owe my life to them." Harley quiets, and awkwardness floats through the air.

I stop walking, nearly tripping over an exotic palm tree. "Oh my god, Harley. I feel so selfish now, I mean, I've been talking about my depressing childhood, and here you are, having it so much worse-."

"Autumn, please stop," Harley turns to face me, "It's sweet that you care, but please don't think of me any differently because of this. I'm the same Harley. I don't use my past as a crutch and it does not define me."

The look of determination in his eyes is almost blinding, and I pause, stunned. I've never seen this intensity, this passion from him before.

Harley's eyes are on me and we don't move. The two of us are in a magical bubble of flowers, a bubble that's just him and I against the world. Harley has become the one person in my life who I know I can rely on and having someone like that is both a comfort and a curse.

Just then, my phone rings. And rings. And rings again.

Harley's phone rings. And rings. And rings again.

Pulling it out, I open it to thirteen calls and five texts, all from Luca.

Luca: The show starts in thirty minutes. GET HERE NOW!!!!!!

Fuck.

Calm and collected, Harley grabs my hand, dragging me to the exit.

 "Come on," he says, "I'll drive the getaway car."