Without You

By Stan Yocum

How deep can love go?

When pianist Matt Sampson first hears Del Rey Silone sing, he is captivated by the quality of her voice and her beauty. He also knows that under his direction she could develop a voice that will stun the world. They are both students at one of the most prestigious performing-arts schools in America, and each of them harbors dreams of success. Matt begins tutoring Del Rey, and soon a strong attraction develops between the two artists.

However, the young lovers must find the strength to resist the destructive power of success, learning to balance the demands of their careers against the passion of their hearts. Can they survive?

As the power of Del Reys voice matures under Matts tutelage, Chris Elliot, a powerful musical agent, begins to court Del Rey as a client. But she soon discovers that his desires go beyond having just a professional relationship. Despite the unbelievable monetary rewards he acquires for her, her love for the pianist cannot be broken. Both students soon learn, however, that the strength of their love will undoubtedly be tested.

As Del Reys first album skyrockets up the charts, Chris arranges for her to go on tour, but she cant comprehend being on the road without Matt. He, on the other hand, cant imagine leaving school and giving up on his dream of becoming a composer. While neither can bear the thought of being apart, surrendering their individual dreams of success weighs heavily on their relationship.

Can their love compete against the applause and adulation of adoring audiences? But more importantly, is either willing to discover what life would be like without the other?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491767627

Stan Yocum

Stan Yocum is a writer who has written suspense/thriller novels, and also general fiction and love novels. He also raises assistance dogs to help physically disabled adults, children and veterans. He is married, has two daughters, two grandchildren, and resides in Palos Verdes California. Other novels by Stan Yocum: The Price of Admission Unrelenting Nightmare Without You Hostile Takeover Corporate Spy Reflection of a Hero Please visit: www.stanyocum.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

MUSIC came to him easily, almost too easily. When he composed, he not only heard the notes but also saw colors; vibrant colors that danced and burst in harmony with the music he was creating. Whether that was true or not, only he knew. But one thing was certain—Matt Sampson and music were synonymous. Their symbiotic relation began when Matt was relatively young, only fourteen days past his seventh birthday.

MATT sat down at the family piano and purposefully began pounding on the keys, mocking his older sister’s attempts at playing the instrument. She screamed at him to stop. But then he started hearing music entwined in the noise he was making. He slowed his keystrokes and began to listen more carefully as he pressed on the keys, suddenly hearing more harmonic sounds. He smiled.

His mother entered the room to stop the uncalled for sibling ridicule. She was the accomplished musician in the family, having studied at Julliard. She halted at once when she heard what Matt was doing. He had never once shown any interest in playing the piano prior to that moment. The only evidence he’d ever shown toward any artistic talent was writing poems because he enjoyed putting his thoughts in rhyme.

Stop it, Matt! Sophie yelled. Mom, tell Matt to stop making fun of me.

Kathy Sampson simply leaned against the door jam and listened. Hush, Sophie, she said.

Matt was so focused on what he was doing he never heard any of what his mother and sister were saying. He started concentrating and moving his fingers across the keys, playing a note with his left hand and then lightly touching the ivory extension of a complimentary note with his right thumb, then adding another with his index finger, and finally a third with his little finger. Then he smiled again, lifted his fingers and touched all four keys simultaneously, feeling a wave of unbelievable excitement come over him at the enticing sound they made.

Go get your father, Sophie, Kathy whispered.

Why?

I want him to hear this.

Hear what? He’s just pounding on the keys to get me mad.

No he’s not.

Sophie was about to protest further, but then she, too, started listening to the sounds her brother was making. I didn’t know Matt knew how to play the piano.

Kathy slowly shook her head. He doesn’t, sweetie. He’s creating that on his own. He’s able to duplicate what he’s heard me play by having a uniquely gifted ear. Now please, go get your father.

Chapter 2

THE corridors bustled with activity as boisterous calls of hello and greetings rang out from every corner and cluttered the hallways with excitement and renewed energy. It was the first day of another school year at Kensington University of Performing Arts in New Hampshire. In fact, this was the 86th year in a row that such antics had taken place, with each student in attendance silently dreaming that the spotlight of fame and fortune would someday shine brightly on them.

Matt Sampson stood befuddled against the hallway wall near a stairwell. He almost cringed when a girl he was standing next to shrieked at the top of her lungs to get the attention of a fellow compatriot.

Excuse me, he said politely when her outburst was complete, but could you tell me where I—

Without noticing his presence, the young girl bolted off leaving Matt stranded in mid-sentence. He mentally shrugged and went back to the map he held, the purpose of which was to identify the location of every hall and classroom at Kensington. His problem, though, was how relatively small the map was, with identifying notations even smaller. He held it up to the light from the stairwell window to get a better view.

Enjoy trying to figure that map out? came a voice over his shoulder.

Matt turned and saw a student, obviously a musical student from the violin case he was carrying, standing there smiling at him. Uh, yeah, I am. I can’t find a thing on it.

What are you looking for?

The main auditorium.

Ah, you must be a new student, required to attend the mandatory first-day-of-school orientation meeting in the main auditorium.

I guess so.

What year are you?

I’m starting graduate school.

Where did you get your undergraduate degree?

University of Indiana.

What is your area of emphasis here at Kensington: dance, drama, or the crème de la crème of the artistic world, music?

Music.

Great! What instrument?

I play a lot of them. Primarily the piano, though.

You play a lot of them, the student said slowly and in somewhat of a mocking manner. Including the reeds and horns and this? he asked, holding up his violin case.

Matt smiled inwardly and just nodded.

Well, the student said, that’s impressive. Hi, my name is Malcolm Sharp. I’m a second year graduate student and have been at Kensington my entire college career. So I know where everything is, including the auditorium.

I’m Matt Sampson.

Well, Matt, follow me. I’ll show you the way to the auditorium.

Thanks, that would be great.

Malcolm headed off and Matt followed. A moment or two passed and then Malcolm gave Matt a curious look. So you play all of them?

No, Matt countered, not all of them, just the major instruments in the primary groups.

What about the guitar. Can you play that?

Yeah.

Malcolm stopped. You’re probably, what, twenty-three or four?

Twenty-one. Graduated early from the University of Indiana.

Congratulations. Well I’m twenty-four. Now in those twenty-four years, I’ve learned to play the violin, and I play it quite well, I might add. But that’s it. No piano or guitar or horn of any kind, just the violin. So how did you manage to learn all the instruments you say you can play in just twenty-one years, assuming you’re telling the truth.

It’s the truth, but it took me only fourteen years.

Ahhhh, only fourteen.

I started when I was seven.

Is that so? Are you any good at them?

I certainly am at the piano. I may not be able to play the violin as well as you, but I can hold my own. I play the others well, too.

How are you at the guitar?

Good.

Why did you learn so many instruments?

So I could be better at what I do.

Which is?

I compose.

You compose, huh, at twenty-one. What do you compose?

Usually symphonies and piano concertos.

Really! Full orchestra and all?

Yes.

Malcolm stepped in closer. Are your compositions any good?

Yes, they are. Personally, I think they’re very good.

Malcolm gave Matt a long look and then turned and started walking. You’d better wait a bit before spouting off confidence like that at this university, no matter how many instruments you can play or symphonies and concertos you’ve composed.

I’ll take that into consideration.

Matt was indeed full of confidence and he knew it. He’d achieved recognition at every point during his musical career, starting at the junior level and continuing through his college years at the University of Indiana.

The two young men proceeded in silence for a while until Malcolm asked, You interested in being in a band. Not an orchestra, just a band. We do gigs around town now and then so we can make a few bucks. It’s nothing special. We play popular music at parties, weddings, high school dances, special college events, things like that. We lost our lead guitarist. He decided not to return this year. The infamous Kensington tradition: Many come, but few make it through. Anyway, you interested?

Uh, yeah, Sure.

You’ll have to tryout, though. I mean … Malcolm gave a subtle grin, it is lead guitar.

No problem.

Okay. Where are you rooming?

Unfortunately, I’m in the graduate dorms.

Which one?

Handel.

Malcolm grimaced. Not the best dorm at Kensington.

I didn’t have a choice.

Yeah, I know. Which room?

337.

I’ll come get you this evening, around seven.

Sounds good.

Good only if you can cut the tryout.

Matt smiled. I’ll do my best, having no doubt he’d have any problem.

As they continued walking, Matt recalled what his mother had said before leaving for Kensington. People tend to often mistake confidence for cockiness, especially your peers. Be careful. Experts in the arts, like your professors, don’t like students displaying their confidence until they’ve proven themselves. Yes, well, Matt thought as he kept walking, I obviously have to work on downplaying the confidence thing.

Here’s the auditorium, Malcolm finally said.

Thanks. Hey, you said you only play the violin. You play that in the band?

No. The one thing I didn’t mention was I also have a good voice. I’m the lead singer in the band. Malcolm squinted at Matt, You don’t sing, do you?

Matt shook his head. I can hold a tune, but I’m not a lead singer.

Good. Well I’ll see you this evening then.

Okay.

Malcolm headed off, but not before making one last comment over his shoulder. I just hope you’re half as good on the guitar as you make it sound like you are.

Matt waited until Malcolm was out of earshot in order to respect his mother’s advice, and then softly muttered, Don’t worry, I am.

*     *     *     *     *

THE driver of the chauffeured Rolls Royce parked in front of the Kensington administration building rushed around the car and opened the back door. A very well dressed gentleman walked down the steps from the building and climbed inside. A few of the students lounging or passing nearby gave the gentleman a curious look.

Wasn’t that …? they all thought. Sure looks like him. Naw, couldn’t be. He wouldn’t come to Kensington. People like that never come to Kensington … do they?

The fact was each and every one of them was correct in their thinking. They had actually seen Sir Harrison Camber, one of the most, if not most, well known and accomplished actors in the world. A product of the English stage, Sir Harrison had ascended the ladder of success from his astounding portrayals of all the meaningful and complex theatrical characters developed by great playwrights, placing him on equal footing with the most renowned actors that had ever performed on stage. And then Hollywood came a-calling, attempting to latch onto a theatrical cash cow. His friends shook their heads in anticipation of a woeful outcome. Don’t go down that path, they’d warned him. Hollywood will kill you. Stick with the stage. You own it. Motion picture acting is nothing like stage acting. It will ruin your acting career.

Everyone’s concern lasted one picture, another remake of Caine Mutiny, which won Harrison Camber—for he had not yet been knighted—an Oscar for Best Male Performance and all the accolades and dollars that went along with the award. A second Oscar came four years later, prompted by hit movie after hit movie, which put Camber atop a pedestal that very few other actors had ever scaled. And then came knighthood, the crowning English achievement and honor bestowed to a very limited number of theatrical persons. Sir Harrison Camber was a very good actor, stage or screen, and a very wealthy man.

He’d come to Kensington for the specific purpose of meeting with Dr. Gerald Osborne, the Dean of Kensington. During their meeting he’d offered the dean a very lucrative proposal.

I know registration is already closed, he’d said, but if you’ll allow my daughter enrolment into Kensington, I’ll pay a one million dollar donation per semester.

Dr. Osborne had looked stunned. A million dollars?

Per semester.

I … I don’t understand.

I want my daughter to attend Kensington, starting with this current semester. There will be no application and she will not be required to audition. If you agree, I’ll write you a check today. And every semester she remains at Kensington, I’ll send you another million dollars. Two semesters per year for four years, that’s eight million dollars. And if she graduates, I’ll throw in another two million. That’s ten in total. Think of what you could do at this school with ten million dollars.

Needless to say, Dr. Osborne said he’d talk to the appropriate people and see if such an arrangement could possibly be made under such short notice and get back to him within a few hours with an answer. Camber had smiled to himself as he shook hands with the dean, already knowing what answer the appropriate people would make. This was a private university, which lived on private donations.

When Camber returned to his luxury suite at the Regency, his daughter, Del Rey, was sitting on the couch, her feet tucked neatly underneath her, scanning through a magazine. She was still dressed in what she’d slept in, and glanced up at her father with the same bored stare as when he’d left.

My lovely daughter, Camber thought with a subtle shake of his head. Two years out of high school and just recently turning twenty-years-old. That means in less than a year she’ll be twenty-one and an adult, at least legally. Wouldn’t it be nice if before then she would actually start working on growing up?

However, Camber knew that Del Rey’s youthful naiveté was more portrayed than actual. She was very smart, had received high academic marks in high school, knew the basic fundamentals of French, Spanish, German, and Italian from living abroad with him, and was very astute for her age. She could be cunningly mature and grown up, and also very demanding if she chose to be. She often used her pretend naiveté and good looks to capture people’s attention and get them to do what she wanted.

Camber’s cell phone suddenly rang and he glanced at it. Had they agreed to his proposal already? God, let’s hope so, he thought. I need this. Hell, she needs this. Maybe being at Kensington and out on her own would help her shed that naïve personality and accept the need for true maturity. Certainly couldn’t hurt.

Hello. He paused. Yes, Gerald. Another pause. That’s fantastic. You do quick work. I’ll let her know and then head back there. See you in about an hour, okay? One last pause. No problem, and thanks for all your help. Goodbye.

Del Rey closed the magazine. Does that ‘let her know’ comment refer to me?

Yes it does, honey.

In what way?

Ever hear of the Kensington University of Performing Arts?

No.

Well it’s about the finest school of its kind, certainly here in the United States.

So?

Camber crossed over to a chair and sat down. Considering you graduated from high school over two years ago, I thought maybe you should go to college. So I’ve enrolled you there.

Del Rey shot straight up in her seat. You did what?

It’s the best school around that can teach you how to act.

Even if I wanted to go to college, Father, I wouldn’t go to an acting one. I’ve told you, I don’t want to act. I don’t want to live your life.

Ignoring her standard rebuttal, he continued. You need to learn a trade. You’re going to have to earn some money if you plan to live like you’re used to.

Maybe I don’t want to live like that.

Camber gave a soft chuckle. I’m fairly certain that’s not true.

I can earn money without being an actor. Try to understand this for the umpteenth time. I don’t want to act!

Then what is it that you want to do, be a secretary? Can certainly earn some big bucks doing that.

Don’t be ridiculous, Dad. I don’t want to be a secretary.

Then what? Please help me out here.

Del Rey sat quietly for a moment. Then she edged forward on the couch and locked eyes with him. I want to sing. People tell me I have a good voice, and I would like to give it a shot.

What kind of shot?

I don’t know. Maybe become a popular singer. They make good money.

Yeah, the very few that actually make it.

Is that any different than being an actor?

There is in your case. Don’t forget who I am and what influence I can bring to help you succeed.

Then help me succeed at singing.

I don’t have influences in that area. My name is not connected with the music industry. If indeed you do have a good voice, then you got it from your mother, not me.

Who cares where I got it? I’d just like to see what I can do with it. You asked me what I wanted. Well I’ve told you. I want to sing more than I want to act.

Camber rubbed his forehead. Why wouldn’t she take the opportunity he was offering her? What Kensington couldn’t teach her about acting, he certainly could. Then a thought came to him, something Gerald Osborn had said when describing the performances the theatre department offered. Would you be willing to enroll if you could be in musicals? That way you’d get to do what you want and at the same time learn how to act. I’d expect you to take a full course of acting classes, though; but your emphasis could be on musicals instead of dramatic plays. How about that?

Del Rey took a moment before answering. Going to college hasn’t been on my mind. How long do I have to think about it?

No time at all, actually. That call was to inform me that you were accepted into the school. Classes started today. I need to go over there and sign all the registration documents and things like that. But, honey, what’s to think about? I want you to be successful in life. I know acting can give you that success, so work with me. I’m willing to let you sing as long as you’re willing to take acting classes. If you become a great musical actress, I won’t care. You’d become successful and I’d be satisfied.

That really is all that’s important to you, isn’t it?

What?

Being satisfied.

Oh come on. Let’s not start—

No, let’s! You weren’t satisfied with my mother, so you divorced her.

I didn’t divorce her because—

You weren’t satisfied when I was living with her either, so you legally finagled to have her discredited to gain custody over me. Why? Why would you do that?

I didn’t discredit her. There are things you don’t know about your mother, Del Rey.

Oh? Like what?

He chose to ignore the question. Del Rey, I loved your mother from the first moment I met her on the Caine Mutiny set. I still love her, but things just didn’t work out.

It’s hard to work things out with you sometimes, Dad.

I know, I know, but I want to make sure you know I still love her. Have you ever wondered why I’ve never married again?

Del Rey shrugged. Not really. I figured with your money and reputation you had all the women you wanted.

But I don’t have any other women. And I guess by your statement it wouldn’t make any sense to discuss the matter further.

There was a moment of silence and then Del Rey asked, If you loved Mom, and say you still do, why did you divorce her?

Because of the things you don’t know about.

So tell me.

Not now. When you’re older or when the time is right, maybe then. This isn’t the time.

They slipped into another conversational pause, allowing Camber to get a drink of water.

When he returned, he took his seat in the chair again. So, I need to know your answer to my proposition. The way I see it, it makes all the sense in the world, especially for you. I know you don’t like living in London—

So let me go live with Mom in California, like I did during high school.

I can’t do that. Anyway, you don’t like London, which is why I take you everywhere I go since you’ve graduated. Here’s your chance to live in the States and not have to travel with me all the time. And I won’t be around to bother you, either. You’ll basically be on your own, which I think you’ll enjoy. It’s all there for you, but only if you accept my offer. Go to Kensington and study acting, which also allows you to work on your singing. Sounds perfect to me.

What did you do to get me in this school? I know similar schools in England don’t allow students in without auditions. Is it the same here?

Yes, but I worked around it.

You would. So here’s the situation: I can’t act, but you got me into a famous acting school and I didn’t even have to audition. Very good, Father. How much did it cost you?

Please, Del Rey. Will you go or not? I need to know. I have people waiting.

Del Rey took a brief moment. On two conditions. One, I get to take singing lessons, and two, I don’t have your name.

This confused Camber. What does not having my name have to do with it?

I don’t want every student and teacher looking at me saying, ‘There goes Del Rey Camber, daughter of Sir Harrison Camber. She must be a really good actor. How else would she get in here?’ Nope, don’t want to deal with that. I want to be known only as Del Rey with no connection to you. None! That’s the deal. Singing lessons and a different last name. That’s the only way I’ll go.

You’ll accept then if I agree?

Yes.

Then I agree. So what last name will you use?

My mother’s maiden name: Silone. And tell whomever you’re dealing with that they can never divulge my true last name or identity. If they do, I’ll leave the school so damn fast it will make your head spin. I want every student and teacher to know me only as Del Rey Silone.

Chapter 3

AT precisely 7:00 p.m., Malcolm knocked on Matt’s dorm-room door. The two young men headed across campus toward Redding Hall, an old, gray brick building dedicated to the music department that housed multiple classrooms, rehearsal rooms, and a small performance stage. The dance and theater arts majors had similar buildings positioned elsewhere on campus. The one interesting thing Matt had noticed about Kensington during his first day was that most everything was centered close to a massive, elegantly constructed building that he assumed was a grand theater. And why not, considering what the university stood for and the purpose of its existence.

Matt took a second and focused his attention on the building once again as they drew closer. It was a stunning structure of ornate granite stonework with towering columns and archways resembling the Gothic style used in many famous European theaters. It was located in the center of campus with every other building extending from its position of prominence. A magnificent fountain was placed in the middle of a tree-lined, grassed quad area, which they were walking through, which presented a beautiful natural perspective to the focal point of Kensington.

Does the theater have a name? Matt asked.

It’s less of a theater and more of a concert hall, actually, for orchestra and special musical presentations—the jewel of the music department. The theater department and dancers do use it once in a while but usually perform in another theater on the other side of campus, over there. The official name of this building is Howard Tedlow Hall. He was a big composer in the early part of the twentieth cen—

I know who he was.

Oh, yes, being a composer you probably would, wouldn’t you? Anyway, he donated the money to construct the building in 1924. Know how much it cost to build?

I have no idea.

Less than two million dollars. Believe that? It would cost more than that to buy just the columns today. On campus, we refer to it as the Main Stage or just Tedlow Hall.

You performed in it yet? Matt asked.

Malcolm glanced over at the building. Not yet, but I hope to. I’ll be trying out this week for the main orchestra, which we refer to as the Concert Orchestra. If I make it then I will. For your information, not many students ever make it onto that stage. Outstanding undergraduates usually have to wait at least until their fourth year. Most of the performances are done by the graduate students.

Then I’m in.

Malcolm gave a condescending smile. You think so, do you?

Matt simply smiled back.

Malcolm held out a hand and stopped Matt. I need to say something to you.

Okay.

You really think highly of yourself, don’t you?

My mother says I have that problem.

Well I agree with her. There are some very talented people at this university. Most of them never set foot on that stage. I sense you think you’ll be one of the lucky few who do.

Matt smiled again.

Listen, do yourself a favor and keep your esteemed opinions of yourself to yourself, and not just in how you talk but also how you act. It’s plainly evident that you consider yourself better than the rest of us. This is only your first day here and you haven’t met many people yet. And you haven’t seen anyone perform. We’re all good, Matt. Don’t hold yourself above us before you even see what we can do.

Matt smiled, but couldn’t help thinking, I can feel my gift in the core of my body, waiting to explode and show all of you what I’m capable of. I’ll be on that stage this year! Fortunately, none of those words came out. What he actually ended up saying was simply, I’ll work on it.

Good … because for some strange reason, I seem to like you and would like to get to know you better.

Matt nodded. Same here.

A few minutes later, they entered Redding Hall and went into one of the rehearsal rooms. Already in the room were four other young men who were talking to each other. They looked up when Malcolm and Matt entered.

Hello, gents, Malcolm said. This is Matt Sampson, the guy I told you who’s going to try out for the band.

The other young men said hello, introduced themselves, and mentioned what instruments they played. Nolan Stevens said he worked the drums, which was how he liked to put it; Barry Kennedy indicated he was on string bass; Stuart Lynch pointed at the piano; and Phil Cox held up a guitar.

What instrument do you play? Nolan asked after the introductions.

Matt glanced over at Malcolm. Uh, lead guitar, I guess.

Phil sat up in his seat. I thought I’d be lead guitar, Malcolm, now that Jeremy isn’t with us.

You will, Phil, if Matt can’t cut the mustard. You ready? Malcolm asked, looking at Matt.

Got a guitar I could borrow?

What! Phil cried out. A lead guitarist who doesn’t have a guitar?

Malcolm turned back to Matt and smiled. I noticed you didn’t have one when we walked over here.

I told you I play the piano. Didn’t think I’d be needing a guitar the first day at school.

Oh my God! Phil burst out in further frustration. He plays the piano? Is this a joke? What’s going on, Malcolm?

Lend him your guitar, Phil, Malcolm said, holding out his hand. I’m sure he won’t hurt it.

But all Malcolm got from Phil was a hard stare.

You know, Stuart piped in, I see Phil’s point. You invite a guy to tryout for lead guitar who plays the piano. That really doesn’t make much sense, Malcolm.

Guys! Do you really think I’m that stupid? Matt said he also plays the guitar. So let’s see if he can before this develops into a full-scale shouting match, okay?

Stuart sighed. Go on, Phil, and give him your guitar. If he fails then maybe we can try him on the keyboard, and I’ll be the one out of a job.

No one is going to lose their job! Malcolm shouted. Just give him the damn guitar, Phil.

The guitar was finally handed over and Matt quickly tuned it. Then he asked, What do you want me to play?

Malcolm waved his hands as an indication that it didn’t matter. We play mostly popular songs.

Have you got any sheet music?

Now it was Barry who spoke. We don’t learn our songs from sheet music. We just play from memorizing a song.

Pick any song you know and have at it, Malcolm said. We’ll be able to tell if you know your stuff.

Okay. I think you’ll know this one, Malcolm, or at least you should.

Matt placed the guitar in position and began playing Bach’s Chanconne, originally intended for the violin, but first played on a classical guitar by the famous Andrés Segovia. He picked Chanconne since he knew the work required multiple chord positions on the neck and frequent strumming changes. Part way through the piece, an idea came to him and he migrated seamlessly into the middle of the Beatles song Here Comes the Sun without a hint of interruption or change in flow, knowing the meter of the two pieces were entirely different. He glided his left fingers across the chords, producing perfect transitions, deciding to change strumming styles three times during the Beatle song just to show he could do it. When he finished playing, he looked up and saw the others just staring at him.

Finally, Malcolm stood and took the guitar. That was good, really good.

Thank you.

Wow, man, you are good, Phil said."

Thanks.

Stuart got up and walked over to a piano.