RUSH (City Lights, #3)(14)
“Until you’re as old as me.”
I laughed, and not just to be polite, either. “Yeah, probably.”
“You are industrious,” Lucien said, the thoughtful expression returning. “You maintain two jobs, and have the will and fortitude to have practiced your instrument enough to gain admittance to a school like Juilliard. From what I’ve heard, that is quite a fickle institution. In short, you are a hard worker, n’est ce pas?”
“I guess so. Sort of have to be, to keep up in this city.”
He nodded his silver-haired head. “Very good, Miss Conroy. That is very good.”
“What is, exactly?” I asked. “Look, Mr. Caron, why are you asking me all this? You seem like a real gentlemen, but these questions…Maybe I’m just a na?ve girl from Montana but I’m really confused. Like maybe you’re actually some doomsday cult leader about to whisk me off to a dungeon in Italy or something. Or France?”
Lucien laughed heartily. “Oh, ma chere, you are a delightful young woman to indulge an old man these questions, so let me assure you they do have a purpose. A benevolent one. A lucrative one for you, perhaps.”
Oh god, he’s a pimp. Or a mob lord. Neither seemed true; there was nothing about Lucien that was threatening. I realized then that I’d been in New York for slightly less than five years and was already jaded. Even so, everyone knows it’s better to be safe than sorry.
I sipped my coffee, waiting,
“An old family, the Lakes,” Lucien began. “One can trace their lineage back to the dukes and duchesses of Britain, down through generals in the Revolutionary War—on both sides of the conflict—to the industrial barons of the early twentieth century. And a member of my family has been in their employ since the birth of this country, down to me. I am the executor of Grayson and Victoria Lake’s finances as pertains to their New York City investments, property, holdings, and…as of six months ago, I take care of the personal needs of their twenty-four-year old son, Noah.”
My eyes widened. At twenty-four, he was only two years older than me. Why that surprised me, I didn’t know. “What’s his story?”
“Not a very good one, I’m afraid.” Lucien looked at me. “Have you not heard of Noah Lake?”
I shook my head. “Should I have?”
“I suppose not, unless you follow the events and news of what they call ‘extreme sports’?”
“You mean like snow boarding or dirt bike racing?”
“Yes, and hang-gliding, rock-climbing, base-jumping…” Lucien set down his cappuccino cup with some finality. “Noah Lake was an avid participant in all manner of extreme sports, and worked as a journalist for a magazine devoted to such endeavors. He was not content to merely report on the thrills and danger, but participated as well.” His smile grew fond and reminiscent. “Always a daredevil, since childhood. There wasn’t a time I can remember where Noah wasn’t frightening his poor mother to her wit’s end with his stunts. It was no surprise to anyone that he made a career of it. A free spirit.” His smiled slipped away. “Until the accident.”
“Accident?” I felt a lump form in my throat as my fertile imagination conjured up all sorts of terrible injuries to go with the bitter voice I’d heard the other day. “Was Noah hurt badly?”
Lucien looked at me directly, seriously. “Yes, Miss Conroy, he was.”
“What happened?”
The old gentleman’s face grew pinched, his blue eyes heavy. “He had been on assignment for the magazine he wrote for—Planet X. They sent him cliff-diving in Mexico. Extraordinarily dangerous, cliff-diving, but Noah was experienced…and utterly fearless. However, on that last dive, he misjudged the depth of the water that received him and struck the back of his head on the jagged rock. He spent twelve days in a coma as a result.”
I gasped involuntarily. “Oh, no. Is he…paralyzed?” That would explain why he’s a shut-in, I thought. But then the house had three flights of stairs and not a ramp in sight, at least that I’d seen.
“He is not paralyzed. By some miracle he avoided permanent spinal damage.”
“That’s a relief.”
“He is, however, utterly blind.”
I sat back. “Blind.”
It sounded simple. Painless. Almost un-tragic, compared to the myriad debilitating injuries he could have wound up with. Or something worse. Like Chris…
I banished all thoughts of my brother and thought of Noah Lake. I tried to imagine what it would be like to have my sight stolen from me. Like a thick black curtain coming down, never to be lifted.
“How awful.”
“Before we delve into those somewhat gruesome details, I come—at last—to the purpose behind this interview.” Lucien leaned forward, over the small table. “I see in you an industrious young woman, unafraid to speak her mind, yet with the heart and soul of an artist. A woman of thick skin and an unwillingness to surrender—for you must have both traits to suffer the competitive nature of your musical profession, oui?”
He spoke so kindly, was so considerate. I couldn’t let him go on thinking I was something that I wasn’t. I turned my coffee mug around and around, watching the black liquid swirl.
“I don’t play any more, Mr. Caron. I haven’t auditioned in a year. Some things happened, and…” I glanced up at him. “I’m just telling you so that you don’t get the wrong idea about me.”