Read Strung Out for Free Online Page B

rebound theory had any credence, it wouldn’t apply to your situation.”
    “That’s so unfair.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    Talia’s fingers slumped onto the keys, the discordant blitz of notes ringing out. She knew her friend was just worried. She and Leslie had been thick as thieves since starting Boston School for the Arts as students almost fifteen years before. But there was no easy explanation for the way she felt inside.
    “It’s nothing. I just feel adrift, that’s all. I promise.”
    Leslie sighed and perched beside her on the narrow piano bench. “I know it can’t be easy to walk away from your relationship with Dylan. You guys were together forever.”
    “Actually, that’s not bothering me at all.”
    “Really?”
    “No, I think Dylan had become a habit more than anything else.”
    “Oh.”
    Talia sighed. “Everything just feels so pointless.”
    Leslie jumped to her feet and flung her hands upward in frustration. “This is ridiculous! It wasn’t pointless yesterday. How can it have changed overnight?”
    She shrugged.
    “Ugh! I know exactly what happened. You went out with some rich guy last night. He showed you a good time and gave you a taste of the way his people live and now you’re not happy with your life the way it was.”
    Is that really what had happened to her last night?
    Leslie threw a slip of paper on the Steinway’s gleaming lid. “I should be shot for encouraging your insanity.”
    Talia snatched it up, hardly daring to breathe. The slip was from the school’s booking office, requesting a pianist for something labeled the Colton Birthday Party. Judging by the Brookline address, it would be an upscale event packed with Boston’s wealthiest citizens, and hopefully Erik. Excitement burned away her melancholy. This had to be the hand of fate giving her a second chance to see him again.
    What did you call round two of a one-night stand?

Chapter Five

    Talia settled behind the Bechstein after the housekeeper’s standard “expectation” speech. To them she was nothing more than background. Pretty much the equivalent of a potted plant or a side table. Guests didn’t actually pay attention to the music. It was just ambience. On the flip side, most of them would’ve noticed if there was dead silence in the ballroom. It didn’t make sense, and it didn’t have to. They were rich people.
    She opened a book of Chopin’s waltzes and paid scant attention to her performance. They paid; she played. If they weren’t going to listen, she wasn’t going to bother with perfection.
    The ballroom was immense, decorated with bits of marble and gold inlay. Stone columns ringed the room in a style that screamed Greek revival. The marble dance floor was an intricately worked piece of art. Not that this stopped the dancers from scratching the hell out of it with their ridiculously expensive stiletto heels.
    When Talia had confirmed the booking, the event planner had described a small get-together to celebrate a birthday. Not that Talia had been stupid enough to believe her idea of small and their idea of small were anything alike. The fact that she’d been hired by an event planner said otherwise.
    Guests littered the ballroom, the wide veranda outside, and probably the rest of the private estate. Buffets heaped with food and champagne sat off to one side. A few cozy tables clustered around the buffet, inviting guests to sit and chat with friends while they ate. Padded benches ringed the dance floor where footsore dancers could rest a bit before indulging in more champagne and caviar.
    She hadn’t had a chance to view much more of the estate since the cab had dropped her at the service entrance. It wasn’t as if they were going to offer her a tour. She was nothing more than a temporary employee to them.
    Time spooled by unchecked while Talia played and brooded. Nothing had felt the same since Erik. It shouldn’t have mattered. Erik shouldn’t have mattered. The night they’d spent together