The Song in My Heart Read Online Free

musical talents had been heaped on her, but they simply didn’t satisfy anymore. She wanted to be known as one of the best. Wanted to be known . Like Dess. Or the legendary singers Dess had mentioned. She not only wanted to perform before thousands, tens of thousands, but to have those thousands prostrate themselves before her. She wanted to transform peoples’ lives, to influence not only the music business, but popular music itself. And not because she was insecure about herself, but because she was completely secure in her talents and in what she had to offer. She dreamed that her voice, her playing, her songwriting, her performances, would be the vehicle by which those transformations might take place. She wanted never to be forgotten. Wanted her music to set a new standard. Of course it was arrogant to think that way, but if she didn’t believe it could happen, it never would.
    “Church?” Dess was saying. “Did you grow up singing in a church or something?”
    Erika shook her head.
    “Voice lessons since you were four?”
    “Nope, but piano lessons since I was five.”
    “Then where…”
    “I sang whenever I could, which was almost always in private until I went away to college. Then I joined a garage band, earned some pocket money singing in bars. Sang at weddings, birthday parties, open mic nights. Any place I could.”
    Dess stared at her as though she were an apparition, and Erika resisted a smart-ass retort.
    Sloane rejoined them and set down a tray on which sat a teapot, three intact cups, sugar and milk. “Erika’s parents weren’t exactly supportive of her wanting to grow up to be a singer,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Wanted her to be a master pianist or something. Isn’t that right, Erika?”
    “Something like that.” Erika didn’t want to talk about her parents and their obsession to push her onto the world stage in an honorable career in the arts that would elevate her and her family past the stigma of immigration and how that career would not— could not —be something as common and ignoble as singing. She didn’t want to think anymore about the endless hours at the piano, her cramped hands, her sore back, her mother snapping at her with her whip-like voice.
    “Could you sing another song for me?” Dess asked, polite this time.
    Erika began playing “September in the Rain,” softening her voice to a warm, intimate tone that spoke of a broken heart still stuck on someone. Inexplicably, the emotions of lost love came easy to her, even though she’d never known the kind of big love that people wrote novels and songs about. But I will , she knew with certainty, which was why she could sing about it being spring while it felt like a rainy September in her heart.
    When she’d finished, she stole a moment to enjoy the look on Dess’s face—the distinct, momentary melting of the Ice Queen. It was, strangely enough, more gratifying than a screaming audience. Or at least what Erika imagined a screaming audience before her would feel like. There was serenity, rapture, on Dess’s face, like she’d just had a religious experience. Erika sucked in her breath, her lungs tingling at the pure beauty emanating from Dess. I did that to her , she thought, and it filled her up with something she couldn’t name. She never tired of how people physically reacted to her music, because it was far more genuine and spontaneous than verbal compliments. It was the reason she sang.
    Sloane poured tea, asked Erika to join them on the sectional. “So,” she said, looking every bit the director of a colossal business deal, “I have a proposal for you both.”
    Dess’s features had once again taken on a pinched, annoyed look. “Why am I not surprised?”
    Sloane plowed ahead, ignoring her friend. “I propose that we work together. The three of us.”
    “Work together how?” Erika asked, confused. She was expecting Sloane to ask Dess to offer guidance, advice, maybe make a few calls on her behalf.