A Secret Chord

By A.Y. Caluen

A romance novella about what happens when meeting everyone's needs requires unconventional thinking.

Janis Vaughn was doing all right with her music career. She was still young enough that spending most of her time teaching, and playing on other people's records, didn't look like 'gave up' or 'couldn't make it.' What she really couldn't make was 'up her mind.'

But the worst that could happen was 'well, I tried.' So she tried. The first album was a modest success, leading to a local tour. Janis was loving every minute of it. And when she met Stefan – another musician, another teacher, a guy the right age who was smart and sexy and understood what she needed (at least at the piano) – she thought she had it made.

But it wasn't all good, and it got less so over time. When they were together, things were fine. There simply wasn't enough 'together.' Instead she had her tour manager (and instant BFF) Niall. Fortunately, they liked everything about each other. He was the man of her dreams, except for one thing: she was straight, and he wasn't. They each needed something the other couldn't provide, because there are some things you don't ask even your best friend to do.

And then they met Geoffrey, a man who might be their missing link. Janis and Niall had to decide: what if the worst that could happen was 'well, we tried?'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexandra Caluen
• Release date: Sep 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223818441

A.Y. Caluen

A.Y. Caluen lives in a small purple house with her husband, a bottle of Laphroaig, a lot of books, and nine pairs of ballroom shoes. She is the author of over fifty contemporary romance novels and novellas featuring creative, diverse characters.

Book preview

Chapter 1

February 2013

Janis Vaughn was seriously considering whether she should abandon the idea of a solo career. She was making a living – not a fortune, but a living – as a session musician, accompanist and teacher. A lot of musicians couldn’t say the same. It helped that her father was a composer, that he’d worked with so many people in Hollywood. And she’d made some great connections herself, especially after getting hired for that musical play the previous year. It might have been a small production with a short run, but it was still a world premiere. The cast album had been her first experience in a recording studio; she wanted to do it again. She wanted to do it with her own voice, her own arrangements.

But if she made a record, she’d have to tour it. That’s how it worked. Were her connections good enough to get her a livable tour contract? She’d lose some – possibly a lot – of the other income. It was scary as hell, and the people she’d asked were all people who tried it and failed. She was dithering about it again, or still, when she got the call from an actor named Victor Garcia. She picked up the phone, looking out the window at the hideous traffic a few hundred yards away on the 101 freeway, thinking please tell me you need a piano player, and said, Hi Victor! How are you?

I’m not so good, chica. His voice was distinctly tired, distinctly sad. Still mellow and sexy, but only because that was the nature of the voice.

She wondered what the hell was wrong. What happened? Can I help?

Not really, but thanks. My mother is dying. I’m about to go to Jalisco. The company’s cutting me loose so I can be there with her.

"Oh shit. I am so, so sorry. And very confused as to why he’d called her. They weren’t on this level as friends, or she hadn’t thought so. I wish there was something I could do."

I know you’re thinking, why did he call me. A tinge of amusement now in that sad voice. I wanted to ask if you could be my eyes. There’s something that someone’s done, and I can’t go see it myself.

She didn’t ask why. When and where?

He gave her the date and location, and then he told her why. The artist is someone important to me who doesn’t know he’s important. I can’t tell you anything else, I’m sorry, it’s ... complicated.

This time, Janis knew why. She knew Victor was gay, knew he wasn’t out, and same as everybody else he’d worked with on that play, she liked him too well to question him about it. Everyone had their reasons. Based on what some other friends had told her, being a gay actor – especially a gay actor of color – was like putting yourself in a tiny little box with targets on every side, only one air hole, and that was on the bottom. I will go see the thing. Call me when you’re back in town, we’ll have dinner and I’ll tell you all about it.

Thanks, chica.

And take care of yourself. I’m really sorry about your mother.

Thanks, he said again. I’ll call you. He disconnected, and Janis sat for a minute updating her calendar so she wouldn’t forget. She knew where the Brewery complex was, because they’d rehearsed there for the play. She even recognized the name of the artist, Andy Martin. He was the photographer who’d done lobby cards for the play. And he was most definitely out. They must have met then, she thought. Poor Victor. Then she put that away, and called her own mother.

A few weeks later, Janis called her friend (mentor, adopted big sister) Valerie, who’d produced the cast album for the play. Hi Val, I have a recommendation for you if you want to go see some shockingly good photographs that will break your heart.

Valerie sounded a little cautious when she said, Do I need to have my heart broken?

In a good way. Janis told her about Andy Martin’s ‘Cut Open’ show. And now I want to know if I can buy you dinner and pick your brain about doing an album.

You’re going to do one? Valerie sounded happy now. I’d love to help. Yeah, definitely, let’s do dinner. What gave you the push?

A friend of mine is having a terrible time and I feel terrible about it and I really cannot help and that makes me mad. I think my dad told you what I’m like when I’m mad. Valerie snorted out a laugh. Anyway I thought, dammit, I would rather try and fail than never try at all.

Good girl. Shoot me some dates and let’s see about a rendezvous.

****

August 2013

That took long enough, Janis thought, but it was worth it. She looked around the recording studio with satisfaction. Valerie was in the booth with the sound engineer; they were both listening to the playback of the last track. Janis thought it had gone well. The piano in the studio was exceptional, her voice was the best it had been in years, she liked the arrangement. The last one. Twelve in all, wrapped now once Valerie gave it the thumbs-up, and the week after it dropped she’d be starting her first tour.

A local tour, no big travel required, but she was thirty-two and if she was ever going to start, the time was now. Ten dates, from San Diego to Santa Barbara, all at colleges. All solo. The thought of performing on stage all by herself was sufficiently terrifying that Janis tended to shy away from it. She thought she’d be all right once she was actually doing it, and not just thinking about it. Thinking about things was always worse than doing things. And of course, she wouldn’t really be alone. She’d have the piano. Let’s hope they’re not shitty pianos, she thought, coveting the one in the room while watching Valerie. Waiting for the thumbs-up. A moment later it came.

****

What did you think of that review? Valerie said, watching Janis guzzle wine, trying not to laugh. They’d caught up in Long Beach after the second concert. Valerie remembered what it was like to do a solo gig. She’d been lucky: her now-husband Russell had been with her even then, had come to almost every show, and once she was offstage all that nervous energy had somewhere to go. Going back to a hotel room alone (or, worse yet, driving for however long to get home) would have royally sucked. She would have been guzzling wine too.

Janis set down the glass, leaving approximately an ounce. God, that’s the most I’ve ever enjoyed a glass of chardonnay. Why did I not order the cabernet. Let’s see. ‘The Southland’s answer to Diana Krall.’ I do not think Diana would appreciate that, and I don’t personally think that Diana is a question that needs an answer, but putting me in the same paragraph as Diana makes me SO FUCKING HAPPY I get a little loud. She was, she knew it. Valerie was giggling into her own glass. I’m hearing that the sales are good. The disc is moving, and there are downloads, and I’m like, you know, wow. She drank the rest of the wine. A server showed up, looking alert, to ask if she wanted another. No, thank you, I have to drive home in a while. Could I get some coffee? And a dessert menu? Thanks. Janis glanced back at Valerie. Thanks for coming tonight. What did you think?

You’re doing great. I think you could slow down a little on ‘Fool to Want You.’ Let the words really sink in. And on the flip side I think you could speed up a little on ‘Angel Eyes,’ the variation. It’s a very big-bandy arrangement and it could stand a little more energy.

Okay. Yeah, okay. I’ll try that when I practice tomorrow. She heaved a sigh. I’m so glad I did this. Thank you so much for all your help and support and advice. You are a righteous broad.

Valerie laughed. If we were in direct competition I might not have been so helpful. Valerie’s specialty was TV soundtrack music, which most people never noticed. It required the ability to pick up the mood or subtext of a scene, compose a short piece in very little time, arrange it, conduct it (or perform all the parts), and then move on. As a solo artist, she’d played classical music. I was never going to be the Southland’s answer to Diana Krall. I was more like the female version of Glenn Gould.

Which is also righteous. God, this is a rush.