Page 6 of Unraveling Fate

“So, you what? Googled me? And found famous sisters.” She tried to keep her voice light, to hide her irritation that he’d looked her up ahead of time, and that what he’d found was not her own merits, her own hard work or accomplishments, but her sisters’. That he’d found a connection to Ilaria at all surprisedher. Her mother didn’t claim anyone who couldn’t add to her own success.

“Maybe.” Canon leaned forward. “Or maybe I’m just that good.”

Cadenza rolled her eyes and rose from the bench. “Or maybe you’re just good at freaking people out. Sales is just storytelling, right? Tell the right story and you get what you want from people.”

Again, she covered her anger with a joking tone. She was going to have to work with this man, and live near him, at least until she left for Italy. Might as well keep it cordial.

Canon stood too, laughing. “Hey, whatever moves cars off the lot.” He wrapped up the rest of the lunch and led them back toward the car at the recording studio. “But seriously, ambition is nothing to be ashamed of. You want to be famous? You want to be the best? Then own it. I certainly don’t plan on selling minivans to soccer moms for the rest of my life.”

“And what illustrious line of work do you see yourself in, Mr. Richards?” She waved a hand in the air in mock pretension.

“Politics, of course. Now there’s an arena where a good story can get you what you want.”

The scentof sweaty salami competed with comforting wafts of Pennzoil. The remains of Cadenza’s lunch with Canon sat wilting on top of a mechanic cart next to the Berlinetta. Her bank account wouldn’t allow her to waste it, but every time she tried to take a bite, her stomach cramped.

“‘Ambition is nothing to be afraid of,’” she quoted Canon to the Ferrari’s engine block. His blatant assessment of her rankled, most of all because he was right. “But if you wantsomething, you have to go after it. You can’t just expect it to land in your lap.” She replaced the oil cap, repeating the lesson her Babbo had drilled into her as a child. Ambition was something she had plenty of, and she had embraced the responsibility to make her dreams come true herself quite young. But when Canon said ambition, the word felt dirty. Like he thought he’d found a fellow imbiber in some backroom vice.

She straightened, swiping at the grease on her hands with a shop towel. She’d have to get another nail brush. Anyone hiring a singer for an event generally frowned at the 1040-under-fingernails look, and she had to stay ready in case her agent called with a gig. She laughed at the thought of showing up in jeans with dirty nails.

“Honestly,” she addressed the Ferrari again. “It’d be more comfortable than sequins and heels, but we do what we have to, vero?”

The arts thrived on competition. Ambition was vital to staying afloat. Besides, music lived everywhere for her. Rhythm vibrated through the ground. Melody tumbled on the breeze. The earth sang to her, begged for her voice to weave it into form. She kept that to herself of course, but with music all around her, an opera star mother and two older sisters already performing—what else would she have chosen to be but a singer?

“And if I’m going to be a singer, I might as well be a successful one.” She let the hood of the car snick closed and paced a circle around the Berlinetta, fingers tracing the sleek frame. Even this Ferrari—metal and oil and leather, all things that originated from the natural world—had a tune buried inside. If she could coax it out, maybe she could figure out how to fix it. A simple oil change, fresh gas, and a new battery from the on-site repair shop’s supplies had come first since she didn’t know how long the car had been sitting idle. She’d found no rust, no corrosion, nothing cracked, weathered, missing. All theelectrical systems checked out; the scanners even insisted the car had power. It wasn’t uncommon for the starter in an F12 to go bad, but a bench test said it was fine. But none of those were things that Drostan’s team couldn’t have done. Whatever was wrong was deeper. She sank into the driver’s seat and turned the key she’d found in the glovebox.

Nothing. Not even a click.

Hands on the wheel, she chided the machine. “If you want something, you have to make it happen.”

She groaned at her own words and thunked her head against the seat. She wastryingto make it happen. Private voice lessons all through high school, a bachelor’s degree in voice from the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, an apprenticeship with the San Francisco Opera. And all along the way, trying to give people what she thought they wanted. What they thought an opera singer should be. She glared at her hands. That definitely didn’t include dirty fingernails.

If only people’s songs were as easy to pick out as the ones in the world around her, but she’d never heard earthsong from another person.

Cadenza drew in a deep breath. Held it. Blew it out. She cleared her stalled career from her thoughts, focusing on the car.Give me your song …

A melody ghosted across her skin, flickering in and out of reach. Her eyes drifted closed to listen, but the tune refused to materialize.

So often she had to keep the music at arm’s length. Keep it under control so she could focus and interact with the people around her. Why was this song so hard to draw out?

“Va bene, bello mio. Keep your secrets for tonight,” she whispered to the dashboard. “I’ll figure you out, don’t you worry.”

Tomorrow she’d pay a visit to one of her father’s colleagues in Modesto. People still remembered and respected his work. If she called in a few favors owed to him, she could get some parts to try, maybe a new starter anyway. Because she would make this car run again, for Drostan. Just like she would make her career take off.

Her stomach growled. She climbed out of the car and grabbed the sandwich off the tray.

No point in starving.

Three

26 Aug 2019

32 Days and $300 to go. Bless Drostan for paying me for all the races in advance.

The hills had always been Cadenza’s favorite part of this drive. Modesto sprawled in the Central Valley, an hour and a half west of Sonora.

Flat.

Dry.