C1 PART ONE

“No, Lisa. I won’t do it. It’s a terrible idea.” Jessa Hanson frowned and paced the room angrily as she spoke.

Lisa Guthrie, her talent agent, looked at her over the tops of her glasses and tried not to smile, because Jessa could be so predictable at times. She leaned against the breakfast bar in the open-plan living space of Jessa’s London flat and spoke calmly to her favorite client. “Yes, it is a good idea. Just as it was a good idea to cooperate with the biography and keep some sort of creative control. It’s the best way to cut down on sensationalism. Your life story is dramatic: first openly lesbian female to be musical director of a major orchestra, one of the youngest people ever to be musical director of a North American orchestra, first classical musician to have a number one pop CD, first biography of a musician to top the non-fiction bestseller charts on both sides of the Atlantic – you’re a star.”

“I hate that word.” Jessa’s frown turned into a scowl. “And, with the exception of the fact that I’ll be musical director of the TSO, which won’t even happen for almost a year, none of that had anything to do with me. The CD was only a pop sensation because I worked with Norah Jones.”

“Your name and image were on the front of the CD . . .”

“That was a bad idea: I produced it and played on some of the tracks because she wanted to go in a new direction and I’d enjoyed writing with her, but I should never have consented to the cover photo. It gave the wrong impression . . .”

“Jessa, get over it. The photo showed your navel and caused a bit of a stir in the classical community, but you’re obviously still being taken seriously, or you wouldn’t have such a great season lined up – not to mention a two-year contract with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. In fact, answer this: as your manager, have I ever asked you to do something which turned out to be bad for your career?”

Jessa looked at the floor, embarrassed by the question. Lisa was so much more than her manager. Lisa had been a big sister, surrogate mother, agent, even financial advisor at times. It was true that she was well-compensated for that nowadays, but that had not always been the case and Jessa owed more to her than she did to anyone else in her life. Yet Lisa never mentioned all the personal things she’d done for Jessa, only ever reminding her, as now, of the professional decisions, and only when she thought Jessa was being unreasonable in reaction to one of her suggestions.

“No,” she admitted with a sigh. “You’ve made some wacky but prescient decisions about the direction in which I should take my career. And if you think I should retain creative control over the film adaptation of my life story then you’re probably right. What I object to is the way you’re suggesting I do it. The next two months are going to be busy and stressful: a week in New York, then a week in Toronto, not only conducting, but doing publicity spots when the announcement is made, then Berlin for a week and then back to London. I don’t need the added stress of an egotistical actress following me around and constantly distracting me from what I have to accomplish!” Jessa’s voice had started to rise as she’d spoken the last sentence and it ended just short of a whine.

“Jessa, you don’t know that she’s egotistical . . .”

“She’s an actress! And a successful one at that! Do you know any successful actresses who aren’t egotistical and, in a sick dichotomy, terrified of being themselves? Pretending to be someone else for a living is not a healthy impulse!”

“You don’t know Shara. She’s emotionally stable and her life is not her work. She is not her career.”

“Oh, it’s ‘Shara’ is it? How do you know so much about what she’s like?”

“Because I’ve met her a few times.”

“Oh.” Jessa turned away, but not before Lisa had seen the hurt on her face. Surround Jessa with other musicians and scores and she was supremely confident, but at her core was the insecurity born of being abandoned by her parents when she had been a child-like sixteen. In the aftermath she’d become streetwise and outwardly tough, but she remained acutely sensitive to betrayal by the few people she allowed to get close to her.

“Jessa, I would never ask you to spend weeks at a time, especially at such a crucial time in your career, with someone I thought could be bad for you. At the same time, I could not dismiss an opportunity to influence this film. The only way I could be a good manager, and a good friend, was to meet Shara Quinn and see if she was the sort of person it would be worth your time to allow to see what it’s really like to walk in your shoes. She’s worked with the director before and he has a reputation for allowing his actors to have input into the projects – especially those actors whose judgment he trusts. If you allow Shara to get an honest feel for your life and career, it could make all the difference, but only if she’s intelligent and perceptive enough to see beyond the glamor and the hardship that go hand in hand with your schedule. Having spoken to her for extended periods, I can tell you, without reservation, that she is.”

“How many times did you meet her?” Jessa was distracted by Lisa’s mention of extended periods, since Lisa was notorious for sizing people up very quickly and accurately. She wondered if, perhaps, Lisa had had initial reservations about this woman, which would not be a good sign.

“Three times.” Jessa raised her eyebrows. “The first time was an introductory lunch with her boyfriend – a man named Derek Finch with the same need for attention as a small child. Since it was impossible to discuss much beyond the bare bones of what she wanted to do while he was there, especially since he wasn’t happy about having her on the road for six weeks, she asked if we could meet again. The next time we had lunch in my office and then she issued a reciprocal invitation to her home for dinner and we’d got along really well, so I accepted.”

“What, are you dating this woman?” Jessa was not happy and she knew that the jealousy she felt was unreasonable, but Lisa was notoriously antisocial, her job requiring so many business meals that she jealously guarded the time she had with her partner and her extended family. The feeling of sibling rivalry that Jessa felt towards this unknown actress who had lured Lisa into a private dinner was childish and sad, but Jessa felt it anyway.

“Jessa, don’t be a baby. Straight women don’t ‘date’, we have meals with friends.”

“Are you sure she’s straight? Remember the designer who wanted me to use her shirts and then took advantage of a fitting . . .”

“Jessa, she’s straight. I met her boyfriend. Besides, that’s part of the reason she wants to do this and live in your world. Her best friend is a lesbian, but she’s a private citizen and Shara wants to understand the added pressures of celebrity and lesbianism on the life of a musician, composer and conductor.”

“I’m not a celebrity – not in the way she is. I’m not illicitly photographed in my undies for ‘Heat’ magazine and I don’t go to film premieres . . .”

“Yes, but you can’t wait for a flight in the departure lounge, shop at a department store or go to a classical music concert as an ordinary member of the audience, without causing a disturbance.”

“True, but it’s not because I’m a dyke. She must experience the same things on ten times the scale, so she doesn’t need to spend time with me. Case closed.”

“Jessa, it’s not just your lesbianism, it’s your schedule: travel, practice, promotion, socializing and recording. She wants to experience those things with you instead of imagining what it’s like.”

Jessa sighed. “So what’s the plan? She books into hotels wherever I am and I have to face her from the time I sit down to breakfast?”

For the first time, Lisa looked uncomfortable. “Not exactly.”

Jessa’s eyes narrowed. She knew from experience that she would not like whatever Lisa said next. “So what, exactly?”

“She’ll be living with you . . .”

“No! Absolutely not. My living space is critical to the way I work. I will not have some spoiled egomaniac painting her nails and whingeing when I’m trying to practice or write – or even read. No way.”

“Jessa, it’s the only way. And it’s not going to be such a hardship. You’ll be staying in Stephan’s loft in New York and that’s huge with two bedrooms. In Toronto they’ve leased you a penthouse flat that’s got two bedrooms as well and in Berlin you’ll be using the guest flat on Meinekestrasse – and you certainly won’t be tripping over each other in that.”

“Lisa, I write in the middle of the night and I can’t tolerate distractions. Most people who are not overindulged actresses can’t stand hearing the same six bars played over and over again on a piano as I work out the little kinks in a composition – especially not at two or three in the morning!”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing she needs to know, if she’s going to play you in a film.”

“This entire idea is ridiculous . . .”

“It will make the film more accurate.”

“I mean the idea of a film is ridiculous. I’m still alive, for fuck’s sake. If anyone wants to know what I’m like they can come to a performance – unless they happen to live in Asia this year, I’m pretty damn accessible. I’m even in Argentina in February. And if they want to know more about me than they can read in the program, that bloody book has more about my life than I want anyone to know.”

“But most people don’t read.”

“Which is what’s wrong with the world today,” Jessa sneered. “We both know that my life simply is not interesting enough to keep anyone from falling asleep in a darkened theater.”

“Unless they’re enthralled by Shara Quinn,” Lisa joked.

“And that’s another thing: the woman couldn’t look less like me, if she tried! I’ve seen her on the telly: she’s twee with long hair and gray eyes.”

“They’re hazel – but that’s not the point. She’s an actress. Her hair will be cut for the role and she’s quite looking forward to wearing a cut-away coat and having camera angles make her look taller than she is.”

“God. Six weeks with an actress. Does she even understand what I do? Has she ever heard a symphony?”

It was Lisa’s turn to sigh. “You really need to let go of your prejudices, Jessa. She enjoys symphonic music from the classical period, but she prefers chamber music to music written for a full orchestra, and opera to either. Do you really think I’d ask you to live with someone who didn’t love music?”

“I didn’t think you’d ask me to live with anyone,” Jessa replied quietly.

“She’s not Stephanie. She doesn’t want to be Stephanie. She’s a nice woman who wants to do a good job. Perhaps you need to live with someone, even as a friend, who reminds you that companionship doesn’t always come with an expensive price tag.”

“I don’t want any new friends,” Jessa’s final objection sounded lame, even to her own ears.

“Perhaps that’s the best time to acquire one,” Lisa replied firmly. “Now, I have a meeting with a film producer about using that piece you wrote last winter in the score for his film. It could turn into a pretty major project for you and you have that gap between Buenos Aires and Toronto next year.”

“It’s called time off,” Jessa responded wryly. “You should try it some time. I’m serious, you know.”

“About what?” Lisa asked innocently.

“About everything. You need to work less, I would like to have next spring and early summer off, since I’m moving to Canada for my first steady job in autumn and , and this is important, if your actress turns out to be a pain in the arse, or interferes with my work in any way, she will be out of my life in a hurry.”

“Is that all?” Lisa drawled the question and raised one inquiring eyebrow.

“No, that’s not all.” Jessa walked over to her and hugged her. “Thank you. I know you only want what’s best for me and you are the only person in my life who that has ever been true of.”

Lisa hugged her back. “You are so welcome, Jessa.” Her voice sounded choked, because she knew that Jessa had not realized the loneliness and tale of betrayal implicit in that statement, coming as it did from a woman of thirty-three.