Chapter 30
An Interlude with Lucky Star Diamond
Lilly closed the gate and heard the sound of Claude’s boots walking away on the brick banquette. She slowly walked through the carriage way, pausing in the courtyard. The Fountain, liquid silver in the starlight, made gentle music as the water danced from tier to tier. On any other night, the music of the fountain would have soothed her. Tonight, it brought tears. The visit with Claude and Regina, the excitement of making new friends, had temporarily distracted her from her grief.
She walked into her apartment, the scent of roses permeating the air unleashed an avalanche of emotions. Her heart clenched and her stomach bloomed with nausea. The taste of bile filled her mouth and mingled with her salty tears. The velvety rose petals so soft earlier, lay dying, staining the sheets like drops of blood. Scooping up the sheets filled with dying rose petals, Lilly wadded them into a ball and held them close to her body. She swayed as she stood beside her bed, resisting the urge to vomit. Blinking away tears, she took a deep breath, ran down the spiral stairs to the courtyard, through the carriage way, out the gate and onto the street. The metal dumpster cast a shadow onto the banquette as Lilly walked into the street, opened the heavy top and threw the wadded sheets into the dumpster’s dark maw.
Her hands clung to the railing of the winding staircase, the last vestiges of Regina’s champagne spinning through her head. She reached the gallery to find a narrow line of light spilling from her front door. In her haste, she had left her front door slightly ajar. She pushed the door open, slipped inside and turned the key in the bolt lock. Leaning back against the door, her breath lay stagnant in her lungs. Her eyes surveyed the apartment and her ears listened for any noise that did not belong. The air burst from her lungs, she pushed herself off the door and strode into the bathroom. She soaked in a hot bath for an hour. With her muscles relaxed and her heart still aching, she wrapped herself in a crimson towel and crawled into bed.
The next morning, she awoke to an empty cupboard and no coffee. She made a quick trip to the store returning with food, coffee and new resolve. Recalling her talk with Trudy, the nurse at Tulane Hospital, she decided it was time to implement step three. She was going to make an appointment to audition for work as a musician. Her musical plans had taken a detour but now she resolved to get her life on track. She couldn’t work at Panthea’s forever. Determined to avoid spending any more time grieving for Roland, she sat in the center of her bed and placed the flute to her lips. The music, awkward at first, spiraled upward as she relaxed and opened to the magick. The easy flow of music she had become used to with Roland came back, but cosmic visions failed to appear.
The day crept by. Lilly thought about taking a walk around the square or down to the river but her legs felt heavy and her head hurt. She made a pot of coffee, toasted a croissant and sat in her rocking chair dipping the croissant into her coffee. She sat rocking slowly until her coffee was cold and the croissant was soggy. The clock ticked and Lilly remained in the old rocking chair staring at the front door. A chill ran down her arms, her throat unlocked and a bellow of grief filled the room. She slipped from the chair, lay in a ball on the floor and sobbed.
Eventually, she uncurled from the fetal position, stood and found her flute. She played for a while, her music formed nothing, but flat notes which hung limply in the air. Frustrated, she lay the flute on the coffee table, stretched and walked out onto the gallery for a breath of fresh air.
Topaz, Jolene’s cat, was sitting at Lucky’s front door. Lilly watched as the cat stood on his hind legs, lifted his front legs and scratched on the door. The door opened just enough to let Topaz scoot inside. Before she allowed herself to think about it and lose her nerve, Lilly grabbed her flute and rushed down the stairs and across the courtyard. She knocked on Lucky’s door. He opened it and enveloped her in his intense gaze. A smile spread across his face as he invited her into his apartment.
Lilly’s jaw dropped. She stood in shock for a moment. Lucky’s apartment was stunning. It looked more like a New York penthouse she had seen on TV than an apartment at Panthea’s. The living room was large with white shag carpets, a baby grand piano and sumptuous, soft leather furniture. Track lights illuminated rows of paintings hung along the walls.
She looked around and looked at Lucky. As usual, he was staring at her. “Hi, she said nervously.”
“Hi, come in and sit down. I see you have your flute. You want to play some music?”
“Yes, I do. I want to learn the Shaharazad piece. I think it might be perfect for an audition.”
Lucky grabbed his guitar and sat on an ottoman covered with tooled Moroccan leather. Lilly made herself comfortable on the piano stool.
As Lucky tuned his guitar he explained, “You won’t find sheet music for this piece. I listened to the original music many times. I played with it until the piece took on a life of its own. It is my version of Shaharazad.”
“Would you mind if I used it as an audition piece?”
“Not at all, I would be honored.”
He strummed the first cord. Lilly listened as the music built. She sensed the moment to join in. Together they played a beautiful piece of
