Saving Mr. Bell

Chapter Four

Arlo

We both ran. The good thing about snow was being able to shake most of it off before it melted. I’d take snow over rain any day for that reason. Although a couple of hairy moments on the drive here where the car had been difficult to control had nearly changed my mind on that score.

With me not being a hundred percent sure I’d make it back tonight, either alone or with a companion, I hadn’t left a light on in the cabin. I had left the wood burner going, though, the interior of the cabin warm and toasty as we stepped inside. I flicked on the light, relieved to see the blizzard hadn’t left us without electricity. While I stamped the snow off my boots, Rudolf turned in a slow circle. “Who else is here?” he asked.

“Just us.”

“Right.”

I couldn’t tell whether it was a relieved ‘right,’ or one wishing there was someone else here. “I’ll give you a tour.” It was a reasonably sized cabin. It ought to be for the amount I’d paid for it. The object that resided in the other room had overridden my original wish list of what I’d been looking for when I’d set out to rent a cabin in Austria relatively close to Salzburg. The way I’d seen it, it was fate—the universe’s way of telling me that what I was doing was the right thing.

Rudolf had called it a kidnap, but it wasn’t. Not really. He’d come round to the idea once he’d sobered up and had some proper sleep. I started the tour in the room we were in, most of it dominated by a large, comfortable sofa, and a small dining table with two chairs. It doubled as a kitchen, the stove and everything else you’d expect to find in one situated toward one end. “Living room and kitchen,” I said.

I led him into the next room, flicking a hand at the king-size bed. “Bedroom.”

“One of two, I presume?” Rudolf asked.

I winced. “No, there’s only one.”

Rudolf said nothing. He didn’t need to, his body language saying it for him. The bathroom took little explaining, given there was nothing but a bath with a built-in shower, a toilet, and a washbasin. I led him into the last room, the one which had sealed the deal. The owners of the cabin had set it up as a games room, complete with a billiards table. That wasn’t what had twisted my arm, though. It was the piano at the front of the room. I ran a hand along its black polished lid, the instrument quite the beauty. “This is why I chose this place. I thought you might appreciate having one here, that it was worth the sacrifice of an extra bedroom.”

Rudolf stared at the piano for long enough that I wondered whether a person could fall asleep with their eyes open. Finally, he turned away from it. Without touching it. Without running his fingers over the keys and checking whether anyone had tuned it. It was, because that’s one of the first things I’d done when I’d gotten here. “You should have saved yourself the bother and gone for the extra bedroom.”

He went back into the living room and I followed, Rudolf looking completely out of place in his club gear as he stood in the middle of the room. I didn’t know what reaction I’d expected from him when he saw the piano. Joy? A smile? A look of fondness, perhaps. But it hadn’t been a complete detachment. For all the attention he’d shown it, it may as well have been a chest of drawers.

Was I reading too much into it? He was tired and from the way he’d reacted earlier, no doubt still recovering from a huge dump of adrenaline into his system. Could I have gone about things in a better way? Revealed my identity earlier so he wouldn’t have panicked as much as he had? Probably. Getting away from Salzburg and from all the people around despite the late hour had been the priority, though, if I didn’t want to get caught. Anyway, there was no changing how events had unfolded now; there was only dealing with the aftermath.

“You should go to bed,” I urged. “Get some sleep.”

“And where will you sleep?” Rudolf’s voice was tight, and he avoided looking at me when he asked, his discomfort broadcasting the direction of his thoughts.

“On the sofa. It’s plenty big enough.” He gave a jerky nod and turned toward the bedroom. “Use anything that’s in the bathroom. Toiletries, towels, shaving stuff, I mean. What’s mine is yours.”

“Too kind.” His tone didn’t say he thought I was kind. His tone said fuck you. I was going to have some serious explaining to do once he’d slept.

After collecting bedding—luckily there was plenty going begging—I lay on the sofa under a blanket and listened to him potter around the bathroom. He took a shower, which I guess wasn’t a surprise when he’d been clubbing. He’d been in the club too long not to have danced. Had he had sex with anyone? And why did that matter? It was none of my business. He’d left on his own, so if he had hooked up with anyone, it had stayed within the confines of the club. Was Rudolf the type of person who got down on his knees for someone in a bathroom stall? It was more likely, given his celebrity status, that someone had gotten down on their knees for him. Why was I still thinking about this?

I turned on my side and closed my eyes as Rudolf came out of the bathroom, listening to his footsteps as he went into the bedroom. There was the soft snick of the door closing and then silence. Exhaustion had me succumbing to sleep not long after.

Memories of what I’d done came slowly the next morning, or as I discovered when I checked my watch, nearly lunchtime. Not surprising when it had been nearly five before I’d gotten my head down. Had I done the right thing? I guessed only time would tell. Rudolf hadn’t exactly greeted me with open arms the previous night.

The cabin was silent. Silent enough that I struggled free from the mound of blankets, shot to my feet, and made sure the cabin door had remained locked. It was. Padding barefoot across to the bedroom door, I pressed my ear to it until I heard soft snores coming from the other side.

Not wanting to miss Rudolf getting up, I showered, shaved, and dressed quickly. I needn’t have bothered rushing—the bedroom door still firmly closed when I came out of the bathroom. I tamped down on the temptation to open it an inch and check on him. It was doubtful he’d thank me for it.

When I looked out of the window with coffee mug in hand, it came as something of a shock. The snow had continued throughout the night, reaching a depth where the tires of the car were barely visible.

It had stopped snowing for the time being, the sun almost blinding as it reflected off the untouched powder, but the damage had already been done. It was hard to think of it as damage, though, when it was so beautiful. Especially at this time of year. What more could you want in early December than a picture-perfect postcard world right outside your door? I might not have planned for it, but I’d appreciate the hell out of it now it was here. I only hoped Rudolf would feel the same. How could nature at its finest not stir him? He’d have to be dead inside not to look upon it with awe.

I made a start on breakfast while I waited for Rudolf to join the world of the living. Despite not having anticipated being snowed in, I’d gotten enough supplies to last until Christmas. Probably longer if you didn’t mind making your own bread and using powdered milk instead of fresh. There were plenty of logs to keep the wood burner going, and an axe and larger logs in the storage shed adjoining the cabin for when they ran out. I was looking forward to getting in touch with my caveman side and wielding an axe.

The decision on whether to wake Rudolf once breakfast was ready was made for me when the bedroom door opened just as I was dividing the bacon, eggs, sausage, tomato, and mushrooms between two plates. I’d made toast as well, the unsliced loaf lending itself to slices as thick as doorstops. Well, that and my lack of skill at wielding a bread knife, which didn’t bode well for the axe. “Perfect timing,” I said cheerily as Rudolf came to stand on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. He’d dressed, his club gear not looking any more at home in our rustic surroundings than it had the previous night.

His hair was all over the place, but then it was most of the time, artful messiness, his trademark look. He looked pale, the hangover I’d suspected might hit him presumably in full flow. I held the plate out. “You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten this.”

He didn’t take it, passing me by to crouch and look through the kitchen cupboards instead. Shrugging, I carried both plates over to the small dining table, before returning to pour him a coffee. I placed it next to his plate, along with a glass of water and a couple of painkillers. If he really couldn’t eat, that would do the job just as well. By the time I sat, he was still going through the cupboards. “Come and sit down.” No response. “Maybe if you tell me what you’re looking for, I can help.”

“Alcohol. There must be some.”

Ah! So Rudolf was more of a hair of the dog that bit him type person, was he? “I brought a couple of bottles of wine with me, but I thought better of it and got rid of them.”

Rudolf straightened to glare at me. “Why?”

I waved a hand, the gesture meant to encompass his frenzied search. “So this didn’t happen.”

“Got rid of them where?”

I stared at him. He was obviously hoping for an answer that would reveal a retrievable place, like I’d thrown the intact bottles in the bin. “I poured it down the sink and then threw the bottles away. There’s not a single drop in the cabin.”

Rudolf thought hard for a moment. “I’ll ask the neighbors.”

“No neighbors. The nearest cabin is about twenty miles away. Maybe more.” I gave the glass of water on the table a little shake and pointed to the painkillers. “So you’ll have to make do with these.”

He crossed the space and threw himself into the seat opposite, reluctance etched in every sinew of his body, and there was plenty of it on display, his club getup comprising a sleeveless T-shirt which molded itself to his impressive physique and that didn’t stretch far enough not to afford a quick glimpse of abs when he shifted position. He swallowed both tablets in quick succession before washing them down with half the glass of water.

“Eat,” I urged. “Before it gets cold.”

He stared at the plate, but made no move to pick up the knife and fork. “Did Jade put you up to this?”

“Who’s Jade?”

The look he leveled me with said he wasn’t buying my ignorance. “My manager. She’s been threatening to send me to rehab for some time. And I always tell her what she can do with the idea.”

I took a bite of sausage, the action seeming to spur Rudolf into eating something himself. He started with a forkful of scrambled egg. When that seemed agreeable, he moved onto the bacon.

“Perhaps she’s just looking out for you.”

“She isn’t.”

“How do you know?”

Rudolf stabbed angrily at a mushroom. “Because she’s a first-class bitch who has pound signs in her eyes whenever she looks at me. All she’s concerned about is getting me back in front of a piano as quickly as she can, so she gets her percentage.”

“Doesn’t she get her percentage whether or not you play? I mean, you’re still doing public appearances, right? That’s why you were here in Austria.”

“Only because I can’t get out of them. And If I disappeared from the public eye altogether, then I wouldn’t have any need for a manager, would I? And she knows that.” He paused for a moment to chew. “Anyway, I don’t have a problem with alcohol or drugs, so I’m not going to rehab. No matter what her or my father might have to say on the subject.” At my slightly raised eyebrow, he offered an explanation between bites of food. “She’s basically a mouthpiece for him.”

“How is your father?”

It was like a dark cloud descended on Rudolf as he reached for his mug and drank some of the coffee. “Same old.”

“That good, huh?” My dealings with Jeremiah Bell had been few, but they’d been enough for me to know he was a formidable man: a man used to getting his own way, and who had put himself front and center of his only child’s destiny. It hadn’t seemed that strange when Rudolf was seventeen, but if he hadn’t slackened his grip on the reins—which it sounded like he hadn’t from what Rudolf was saying—it was far more unusual now his son was twenty-three, and might offer some explanation why Rudolf was acting the way he was. He hadn’t rebelled as a teenager, so perhaps he was doing it now in the only way he knew how. When Rudolf only offered a shrug, I changed the subject. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay. The bed’s comfy enough.”

“I know. I’ve slept in it. Don’t worry, I changed the sheets,” I added as an afterthought.

“I wasn’t worried.”

Right. He’d probably woken up in no end of strange men’s beds if the rumors of his conquests were true. Although, knowing the press, there was embellishment there.

Rudolf sat back in his chair, seeming surprised to find his plate empty. “I don’t normally bother with breakfast,” he explained. “Now… how about you tell me why you’ve brought me here? Are you going to chain me to the bed and use me as a sex slave?”

My cock gave a traitorous twitch at the image he’d conjured up even as I said “no,” the word coming out sharper than I’d intended. Because older Rudolf, even with all the sharp edges he’d gained since last we’d met, was an incredibly attractive man. “I forgot the chains.”

“But you took my phone off me.”

I tilted my hip so I could slide my hand into the pocket of my jeans. Once I’d extracted Rudolf’s phone, I slid it across the table toward him. He looked relieved until he switched it on. “Haha, hilarious. It’s not much good without the SIM card, is it? What did you do with it?”

“I don’t remember,” I lied. Before he could call me on my bullshit, I leaned across to where I’d left my phone charging. “It wouldn’t matter if it did still have the SIM card in. There’s no reception.”

He snatched my phone out of my hand and studied it with a scowl. “Oh, you thought of everything, didn’t you?”

I laughed. “Not really. The reception was already sketchy, but it existed if you picked the right spot. The blizzard seems to have finished it off completely, though.”

Rudolf shoved my phone back across the table, annoyance etched in the gesture. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“Which one?”

Narrowed green eyes met mine. “Why. The fuck. Am I here? Is it like an Annie Wilkes in Misery thing, only instead of getting me to write you a new version of a novel, I have to sit and play the piano for you?”

I let out a sigh. I’d hoped to avoid this conversation for longer, but that had probably been unrealistic. Of course, Rudolf wanted to know why he was here. Anyone would in his situation. I took a sip of my rapidly cooling coffee as a delaying tactic.

“Well?” Impatience lent the single word a sharpness that broadcasted Rudolf’s frayed patience.

“We got on well before, right? When we were making the documentary.”

Rudolf shrugged. “I suppose.”

Ouch! Tell me my fondness for you only went one way without telling me. “I thought we did.”

“Is this going to be a long story?”

“I’ve kind of kept tabs on you since.”

“Kind of?”

“Okay. I have.”

“So it is an obsessive fan thing?”

“I’m not a fan. I’m a… friend. At least I hope I am.”

“A friend who never calls… never writes… never said goodbye when you left.”

I winced. “Once your father pulled the plug on the documentary, he wanted us out of his house pronto and made it clear saying goodbye wouldn’t be welcomed.”

“Big surprise,” Rudolf said with an eye roll. “That’s how Jeremiah operates. He loves throwing his weight around.” He waved his hand in a “go on” motion.

“Lately, you’ve been spiraling.”

“Spiraling?”

Was there a better word I could have used? If there was, it was already too late. “You know what I’m talking about. Sex, drugs—”

“Rock ‘n’ Roll,” Rudolf added acerbically. “So this is supposed to be what? Rehab without the medical professionals and the white walls? I’m going to say it once more for the peanut gallery… I do not have a problem with drugs or alcohol.”

I leaned both my elbows on the table and studied him. “Yet, the first thing you did today was search this place for alcohol.”

“I wanted some. I didn’t need it. There’s a difference.”

“There is,” I agreed. “But it’s hardly a healthy, well-adjusted habit, is it?” I kept talking before he could interrupt. “If it helps, I don’t think you’re an alcoholic. But, I think you’re heading that way if you don’t make some changes. What happened at the Barenboim-Said Academy was painful to watch.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

I held my hands out in a placatory gesture. “Then, we don’t have to talk about it. But for someone with an immense talent like yours, it’s concerning.”

“I’m more than the music I play.”

“You are. No one’s saying you’re not. But whether you play should be a choice. Not something you find yourself unable to do because you’re too hungover, or still high, or you just can’t bring yourself to care anymore.”

Rudolf crossed his arms over his chest. “So let me check I’ve got this right. Your aim in bringing me here is to rescue me from myself. To hold me captive until I remember who I am again. What happened to the costume? Couldn’t you find one in your size?”

I frowned. “Costume?”

“The white knight costume. I guess you had to swap your trusty steed for a Volkswagen for practical reasons.”

“Something like that.”

“How long?” Rudolf asked.

“How long what?”

“How long are you planning to keep me here?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. A week. Two weeks. Through Christmas if you wanted to stay that long.”

“‘Through Christmas.’” Rudolf laughed. “Do you know how many public appearances I’m scheduled to do before Christmas? I’m leaving Austria in a few days to head to Switzerland for a magazine interview. Then I have a meet and greet somewhere else. Then I’m doing something or other in France.” His pause said he was trying to remember what. After a few seconds, he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what it is. I’m expected. I can’t just hole up in a cabin for weeks because you’ve decided you’re concerned about me.”

“Do you want to do those things?”

Rudolf’s frown said the question confused him. “That’s hardly the point, is it?”

“When was the last time you took a break?”

“I play the piano and do promo. I don’t work down a coalmine. I’m lucky I get to tour so many wonderful countries.”

“And how much of them do you get to see? And I’m not talking about the interior of a concert hall or a nightclub.”

“Enough.”

“Do you?”

Rudolf stood. “Look… I’m not going to argue about this. I have enough people running my life without you putting yourself forward for the role. So… grab your car keys and let’s go.”

“I can’t.”

Rudolf treated me to another eye roll. “Because you care. Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah. Save it for someone who wants to hear it.”

Okay then. It wasn’t like I thought he’d be happy about my intervention, but he was taking it harder than I’d expected. I’d hoped he’d see my perspective and might be glad to see me after all these years. But, apparently not. “Look out of the window.”

He sighed, but headed over there. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“The car.” I could tell from how quiet he went as he stood at the window looking out that he understood the point I was making. I still felt the need to hammer it home. “So… as you can see, we’re not going anywhere until the snow thaws. And we may be in for more snow. With my phone not having reception, I can’t pull up a forecast.”

Rudolf spun on his heel and disappeared into the bedroom. Presumably to sulk for a bit, which was warranted. At least he’d eaten his breakfast, and I didn’t have to worry about him starving to death for however many hours he holed up in there. I resigned myself to sitting and reading my book while I waited for him to come out.

However, within five minutes of entering the bedroom, Rudolf was out again. This time, he wore his coat, scarf, hat, and gloves. I jumped up as he headed straight for the door. Unfortunately, after collecting some wood for the burner from the porch earlier, I’d left it unlocked. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” Rudolf said as he yanked the door open and stepped outside. “If we can’t drive anywhere, I’ll walk.”

“You can’t do that.” My admonishment ended up directed at solid wood as the door swung shut behind him, and it became obvious that Rudolf already had. “Fuck!” Swearing didn’t make me feel any better as I scrambled for my boots, the laces proving tricky in my haste and forcing me to slow down. What if he just disappeared, never to be seen again? What if I was the person responsible for the world famous classical pianist breaking his neck in the middle of nowhere?

It would be the end of my film-making career. It’d be the end of being able to step outside my house without being hounded as well. That was assuming I didn’t go to prison for kidnapping. My plan relied on Rudolf not pressing charges and speaking in my defense if what I’d done ever became known. But he couldn’t do that if he was lying dead in a ditch or he froze to death.

It took far too long to struggle into suitable outerwear, but going out without it was asking for trouble. Panic lent my movements a jerkiness as I finally, after what felt like hours, stumbled out into the snow. I was glad of my waterproof boots that reached mid-calf as I jumped off the porch and immediately sank into deep snow. What was Rudolf wearing on his feet? I couldn’t remember from the previous night, but I doubted his footwear was suitable for trekking through snow. Clubbing and snow hikes weren’t two activities that usually went together.

I shouldn’t have worried about Rudolf disappearing into thin air. Not when his tracks were easy to see in the otherwise undisturbed snow. He had at least a five minute start on me, but I was confident I could catch him.