The Accompanist

Chapter 8: Barriers to Kick

Author's Disclaimer: I own nothing. None of the things referenced. I hope you enjoy it!

--BB--

"Marianne, what are you doing tomorrow?"

The woman in question stared at her father in surprise, fear gathering in the pit of her stomach.

"Considering tomorrow is a week from Dawn's wedding, her bachelorette party is tomorrow night-"

"Good. Then you have time to have Saturday brunch with your dear father," said Dagda, making a note in his phone. "Let's meet at our favorite place at eleven. I want to discuss your future here."

It was his favorite place, not hers. Mostly because Roland liked it a lot. Marianne abhorred the place because of old associations, but she was willing to put up with it because it was her father.

"I can stay for a little bit, and then I have preparations before the party."

Dawn was fond of singing and dancing, so her bachelorette party would consist of visiting every bar that had karaoke or line dancing within a twenty mile radius, all within the comfort of a limousine. Marianne had ensured they would be welcome and have a special drink at every single one of them since it was Dawn. Marianne would've liked more time to prepare and visit places, but her father was more important.

She should have listened to her gut.

The next day, Marianne met her father at the restaurant that was just down the road from work. They could see their building from the parking lot, which was always cool, but Marianne had been too hopeful that her father had finally understood that she was the best person to promote.

When brunch was done, Dagda got up and said, "Can you walk with your old man to the office for a few minutes before you go and take care of Dawn's stuff, please?"

"Sure, Dad. Anything," she said, getting up and pushing in their chairs.

Her father just stared at her brown leather cowboy boots.

"When did you start wearing those?" he asked, pointing to the boots. "You never used to wear anything like that, especially to a fine establishment like this."

"Dad, I've always liked wearing boots. I stopped wearing them while I was dating Roland for a time, but I never stopped liking them. I wear them every day to work," she said internally sighing that somehow he hadn't noticed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Marianne. I'm a little oblivious, especially at work. I get so caught up in everything. Being the owner of the business is a lot of responsibility," he said, puffing out his chest just a little.

"I know, Dad. I help you with all of it," she reminded him as they came to the entrance of the building.

"You do, and I appreciate all your hard work," said Dagda, smiling as they walked to the elevator, where they went to his office's level.

Once they were in his office, he motioned around him widely before saying, "One day, Marianne, all of this could be yours."

"Could?" she asked, a little indignant and confused. "Since when did it become could instead of will?"

"Well, I," stammered her father, "it's just-"

She narrowed her eyes, her tone becoming defensive. "Just what? Please explain it to me. You just said you appreciate all my hard work," she said, taking several steps toward her father.

"Well, I've been thinking about retiring soon-"

"And? I don't see the problem here," she interrupted, folding her arms.

"Well, I don't think you'll be ready by then-"

"What?!"

Dagda took several steps away from his daughter, now worried for himself at the way his daughter's voice rose several decibels.

"When you react like this, I think you can see why," he said, trying to justify himself.

"And I think I'm perfectly justified in reacting so! I followed in your footsteps. I did everything you ever asked of me. I've been working here since before I could be paid," she said in exasperation. "What am I supposed to think?"

"Well, er, you don't have the experience or maturity to handle it yet," he replied, trying to remain calm. His grand plan wasn't working as he had expected it to. It had seemed really sound while discussing it with Roland.

"If I don't have experience, it's because you won't give it to me or don't trust me. I've worked in every position here but yours. No one knows this place and the people better than me. I know all the clients; I'm great with the money," she said, trying to make her case as she calmed down. "I've asked for more responsibility and more jobs, but you won't give it to me. Do you not like my designs?"

"It's not that, per se-"

"Then what is it?" she asked, almost screeching. "I've done everything in my power to please you."

"Not … quite everything," he said, smiling slightly at finding an opening. "There's one point upon which we disagree, and I think it reflects poorly on you and your judgement, that you can't make mature decisions because of one misunderstanding-"

"Oh. No. You are not talking about Roland. Please tell me you're not," she said, growing red.

"I am," he replied, no longer afraid as he took what he thought was the high ground. "He is-"

"We will never agree look Roland. What I do with my love life is my decision. That should never be the reasoning upon which you make a business decision. They're totally different!" she argued.

"But if you don't follow my wishes in this way, how do I know you will after I'm gone here?" he asked, sure that he had her there.

Oh, how wrong he was.

"Dad, I'm the one who suggested doing a memorial party for Mom year after year. I'm the one who's brought in new business consistently with my ideas, and I always keep them looking and built organically, even when you told me I shouldn't because the price would be too much. I'm fulfilling your wishes in every possible way when it comes to work."

Dagda opened and closed his mouth, unsure how to continue. He had lost his leg to stand on, and now he felt awkward. He wished he had thought more about it. It didn't seem as good or fair now the more she explained herself.

"You're right. But-"

"But you're going to hold my future here hostage all because you want me to marry a man whom I hate and who disrespects you, me, and the rest of our family," said Marianne, anger and sadness in her eyes.

"He doesn't! What happened in the past is just that: the past. He's a changed man. He loves you-"

"No! He's a liar, Dad! Why can't you see that?" she asked, taking his shoulders and begging him to understand. "He's always lied. The only thing he loves is himself … and maybe his Audi. But he never, not once, loved me."

"Marianne!" cried her father, shocked. "How can you say that? You're the most wonderful, giving, hard working woman I know."

"That's why you won't let me succeed you," she said. Adding on quickly as she saw the hurt look on his face, she said, "Dad, if you invited Roland to Dawn's wedding, do you know what would happen?"

"He'd come, of course," Dagda replied, certain as he got an idea.

"Sure. He'd skip the actual wedding ceremony, no doubt claiming that something else came up, and then he'd only come for the wedding reception, to eat all the free food and drink at the open bar until he stumbled out or got kicked out."

"Marianne! That's hardly charitable," he said, upset on Roland's behalf.

"But it's true! I would bet you any money that he wouldn't even bring a gift for Dawn, mostly because he's too cheap and selfish to do so. Him being there would be the true gift in his mind, no doubt. And worse, he'd make the whole thing about him instead! He'd try to take the attention, all in the name of getting me back when he ought to focus on Dawn instead."

"Is there anything else you'd like to add to his list of impossible sins?" grumbled Dagda, unwilling to believe his daughter.

"Yes, one more: infidelity. He would flirt with every bridesmaid there-"

"He would do no such thing! He loves you!" cried Dagda, sputtering and becoming red.

"He's flirted in front of me multiple times, when we were engaged and after we broke up," she said, making her father's mouth gape.

"He wouldn't."

"Many times," she reiterated. "Even when I could see him. You and mother always told me to find someone I can trust. I can't trust him. Don't let his smooth words convince you that I'm not ready to take over your firm. He's a liar and master manipulator; he wants to marry me for your money, so he can be a trophy husband."

"But how would you not getting the job achieve that?" he asked.

"I don't get the job unless I'm with him by your logic. He wins no matter what," she said, seeing that her father still wasn't convinced.

"He loves you. I've seen it-"

"You've seen nothing," she said, turning to leave in disgust. "The fact that you believe him over your own daughter is telling. I'm done with this,".

"So you can go work at that engineering firm with that beatnik from last weekend?" asked Dagda, rushing forward.

Her forward movement stopped so suddenly she almost fell over. Then, she stalked over to her father, and he was a little afraid of her again. With hard eyes and a determined, grim line to her mouth, she looked ready to kill.

"Is that what this is all about?" she asked, voice deadly calm.

"Partly, yes," replied her father nervously.

"And threatening to not let me have the job and telling me that I need to marry a guy I hate in order to get said job is your way of preventing me from taking a job at the engineering firm?" she asked sarcastically, trying to understand, her face a mask of calm.

"You've been acting odd all week! I've been watching you very carefully. I'm worried about you," said Dagda, trying to defend his decisions.

"And yet you never noticed the boots I wore all week. What have I done?" she asked, confused.

She hoped that he hadn't seen her fingering the business card at all. She was ashamed to admit that ever since she had found it on her desk, she had kept it in her pocket or purse, playing with it unconsciously when she thought of him or when she texted him.

Which was more frequent now. She had played with the business card so much that it had several well-worn creases in it and was slightly worn.

It wasn't her fault, really. All he had to do was send a random text about a song he heard and include a story or a terrible pun about it, and she got sucked in. It was even worse when he mentioned having more ideas for her character for Dungeons and Dragons, or was just interested in telling her some of his story ideas for the whole group. She had gone to bed past midnight multiple times that week because she had stayed up late talking to him. She had encouraged it every step of the way, and she had even begun initiating the texts. She was proud of herself for doing that, and she had even ventured to sing while doing the dishes one day after dinner.

Dawn had joined in with her at the end, and she had been bugging Marianne ever since about doing it more. Dawn missed their impromptu karaoke after dinner or while doing chores.

"You've been smiling all week! You never smile anymore. Don't get me wrong; I'm glad you are smiling again. But-"

"Then you should be happy for me and ask me why I'm happy," interrupted Marianne. "Why else?"

"You've been nicer to everyone. You're not trying to drive everyone away from you for once," he said. "You're more patient."

"I still don't understand why you're upset about this. If anything, you should be thanking me and the reason why I'm happier now," she said, not realizing just how much her behavior had been noticed.

"Is it because of him? Are you leaving to go work for a bunch of engineers? He'll never amount to anything, especially dressed like that," he said matter-of-factly.

If it had been anyone else, she would have wrung their necks for saying such a thing of Bog. Since it was her father, she made an exception.

"First of all, Bog is the accompanist for Dawn's wedding. I've been spending time with him lately, and it's only for music. If we dress odd on the weekend, it's for comfort," she said, holding up one finger. As she held up a second finger, she said, "Second, how a person dresses is not how you're supposed to judge a person. Mother said never to trust first impressions, and right now, you're showing how alike you are to Roland, and frankly, it disgusts me. Finally, for your information, Bog is a wonderful guy. He's brilliant. He owns that engineering firm and employs more than ten people for an independent company. Better yet, he's talented with the violin and guitar, and he's funny. He can also recognize talent when he sees it."

"So he did ask you to join his company," said Dagda triumphantly.

She groaned and stared at the ceiling. "Yes, he did. He did because he took one look at my work and recognized me for what I am: worthy, without needing a man to complete me," she said, coming forward until she was in her father's face. "Until a half hour ago, I never considered accepting his offer because I love what I do here and want to continue what you and Mom did together. Now, I'm seriously considering taking his offer. There I will be taken seriously and not questioned because I am a woman."

She started to pull back, but her father grabbed her wrist.

"It's only because he wants to date you," insisted Dagda. "I saw the way he looked at you and how close he was. He likes you."

"My employment is not conditional upon dating him; this work is. At least he is professional," said Marianne coldly, fleeing before her father could say anything else.

She raced down the stairs. When she was at the bottom of the stairwell, her father called out to her to wait.

"No. Unless you're going to apologize for what you've said, we're done. I have a party to organize," she said, walking to the door. Right before she went out the door, she said, "Dad, Bog's the only reason I've been able to survive Dawn's wedding. He makes me happy, truly happy. Isn't that what you want for your daughters, or is their looking good more important?"

Dagda looked confused and torn, and Marianne kicked the door and stormed out. However, she didn't get very far before another person stepped in her way.

"Hello, Buttercup. My hair's doing that thing that we both like," he said, twirling a lock of his luscious, blond hair around a finger. "How are you? Ready to get back together?"

"Over my dead body, snake," she hissed, trying to side-step him.

He, however, was faster. Soon he was in her face, restraining her arms.

"Buttercup, that's not nice. Didn't you have a nice chat with your Father? Don't you want to run this place?"

"Not if I have to be with you to do so," she said spitting on his hair.

The ploy worked like a charm. Roland's hands flew to where the spit had touched his precious hair, and she punched him in the face, the cracking of his nose a satisfactory sound to Marianne's ears right before she kicked him hard in the groin. Then, his scream of pain was music to her ears. Roland fell onto his back on the ground, and he cried like a baby about the pain.

"Roland, you've meddled in my life for the last time. I'm getting a restraining order against you. Don't come near me ever again," she warned, her face angry. "Or else."

"Buttercup, help me up-oof!"

"These boots were made for walking, and that's just what they'll do. One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you," she sang, stepping on one of his shoes and then his stomach, making him yell all over again.

As he writhed on the ground, Marianne took great pleasure in keying Roland's car since it was parked right next to his. The moment he heard the awful screech, he went absolutely still. His precious Chipper had been marred, and never had Marianne felt so liberated.

"No!"

Marianne laughed maniacally and drove off. She didn't get very far, however, before she felt tears come to her eyes. It wasn't often that she cried, and she hated shedding tears over Roland. However, this was different. He had quite possibly caused a rift between her and her father, and she was beyond hurt and betrayed. Before she knew it, her car was parked in front of Bog's house.

Marianne usually just cried on her own, preferring to be away from others. She didn't want anyone to think her weak. But … Bog was different. Somehow he understood and didn't judge. He let her rant about her father and his odd work policies, about how he had treated Sunny poorly, and about her frustration involving Roland. He always listened patiently and seemed to know when to comfort and give advice, and he had always encouraged her to make up with her father.

If Bog had been selfish, he would have encouraged her to dislike her father and drive a wedge between them like Roland had. But that wasn't Bog. He was a good man. She knocked once and tried ringing the doorbell, but Bog didn't answer. It surprised her since his car was parked in the driveway, and she knew from earlier texts that he was supposed to be home, so she texted him.

Marianne: Are you home?

He texted back almost immediately.

Bog: Yes. I'm practicing violin. Why?

Marianne: I'm on your front porch.

Moments later, Bog was breathing heavily as he opened the door to let her in.

"Marianne?" He took one look at her face, and it changed to one of concern and anger as his arms opened wide. "What happened? Who do I have to kill? Brutus will look the other way."

She laughed before slowly walking into his arms. He was quick to bring her close, and in that moment, his hug could have rivaled Dawn's for Most Likely to Squeeze the Life Out of You. She didn't mind.

"It's Roland, but mostly, it's Dad," she said, sniffing. "I still can't believe it."

"Sit down and tell me everything," he said, escorting her to his kitchen table.

He poured them each a glass of vodka, and once they were both seated, she told him all of what happened at brunch and afterward. By the end, the bottle was gone, and Bog despised Roland and Dagda both.

When the telling was done, Bog whistled. "You have guts, Marianne. I admire that about you. I'm just a little surprised that you told me all that and not Dawn."

She grimaced and replied, "It's almost her wedding. She's overloaded with things already. She doesn't want this burden, nor do I want her to lose her innocent view of everyone, especially Dad. I don't think she could see me like this."

"Has she ever seen you like this?" he asked seriously.

"Only right after I broke up with Roland, though she doesn't know as much as you," admitted Marianne.

"She needs to know. You should tell her," he said, eyes pleading with her.

"I'll think about it," she replied, looking away.

Marianne was still down, so he brought out his violin.

"I have just the solution for times like this," he said, standing in front of her. "The Beatles."

She attempted to stop him, only to sit back and enjoy his renditions of "Yesterday" and "Eleanor Rigby". When she seemed a little less sad, he played and "Julia". She tried not to dwell on the fact that he changed the name of Julia to her name. With her eyes caught up in his as he played and sang to her, neither noticed nor cared that they sang of love. Because she was slightly more upbeat, he played "Hey Jude", and she was much happier.

She kept on encouraging him to play more, and eventually she even sang along with certain songs. When he stopped playing to rest, both were smiling.

"Bog, you have no idea how much this has helped," she said.

"Anytime. I can't believe your father would do that. That's madness," he said. "You said all the right things. I still can't believe you said all that about me."

"You deserve more than his judgement. If he knew anything about you, he'd probably push me at you as a way to build trust within the community or something like that. However, he's blind."

"As much as I hate to ask this, I should. Are you going to approach him? You should do it before the wedding, for Dawn's sake," said Bog. "She'd hate to see you fighting."

"Once I tell her tonight, she'll be on my side. Speaking of which, what time is it?" she asked, looking around. "My phone's on silent."

"It's six-"

"Oh sugar! I'm late!" she cried, standing and wobbling. She sat down immediately.

Bog rushed to her side and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "No need, Marianne. I'll call Dawn; she'll pick you up. You shouldn't be driving."

"But I'm supposed to be her DD! I'm going to mess up everything," she groaned, face hitting the table.

"I'm just going to call Dawn," said Bog, opening his phone. He was shocked to discover he had three missed calls from Dawn.

"Dawn?" he asked on speakerphone.

"Boggy bear! Do you know where Marianne is? She's missing! I tried calling her like twenty times! I'm so worried about her," fretted Dawn, making Marianne groan. "Wait, is that Marianne? Marianne! Get your butt home! Did you start the party without me?"

"Yes, she did, and when she tells you why, you'll be giving her just as many drinks as you're about to have tonight," said Bog before whispering, "Your father said some really messed up things to her. I've been giving her vodka to talk."

"And it's working," said Marianne before adding, "I can hear you, Boggy."

"Now there's no need for that," he said, voice rising. "I'm just trying to help."

"Dawn, I can't drive. We need to force one of the triplets to be the DD tonight. Come pick me up on the way to the karaoke bar," said Marianne. "I rented a van; it should be arriving any second now."

"Oh, it just arrived! Boggy, give her more alcohol, would you? I'll be heading over soon. Everyone else is here, as are the guys. Marianne, I'm coming!"

"So is Christmas and your wedding," groused Marianne. "I feel terrible."

"Your father is a prejudiced idiot, however much he means well," said Bog before hanging up. When they were alone again, he found a half-full bottle of schnapps. "Here, we can share this."

"Bog, have I told you lately how much I like and appreciate you?" she asked, taking the bottle and drinking most of it. "I love the peach flavor."

"If I had known that …"

Marianne laughed until Bog knelt beside her, their faces level.

"Marianne, let loose tonight. You deserve it. I think your sister would prefer it, actually."

"I don't know-"

"Please," he urged, taking her hands.

"Alright. Just know that there is a very high likelihood that you're going to be dragged to the bachelors party tonight. Dawn is liable to do that," she said removing her hands.

"I'm not going to that," he said, face frowning and displeased about her moving away.

"She'll use her cute eyes and face and convince you easily. You're soft around her, and we all know it," she said, finishing the bottle.

He grinned. "Fair enough. I'll go if you promise to have fun tonight."

She put out a hand. "Deal."

"And Marianne … if you are serious about getting a restraining order, here's Brutus' number at work and his cell. He will walk you through it, and he'll scare anyone with how big he is," said Bog, texting her the info for the resident police officer in his group.

He barely put the cell phone down before Marianne was kissing him.

"Thank you!" A moment later, she seemed to realize what she had done, and she released her stranglehold on him. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be," he said, getting up. "I just want you to be happy, to smile like that."

"I don't deserve you," she said, attempting to get up and sitting back down at once.

"I think my Tough Girl is a lightweight," joked Bog before crouching down. "Get on my back, or I'm throwing you over my shoulder."

"I'll walk, thank you," she sniffed, trying to get up and failing once more.

"Over the shoulder it is."

"Hey! Boggy, put me down!"

"Not when you call me that," he said, grinning as he carried her to the front door.

Thankfully, that was when Dawn arrived and knocked on the door.

"Boggy, thank you! Marianne, are you alright?"

"Peach schnapps is amazing," said Marianne, kicking to be let down. "Dawn, help me walk. You owe me."

"Aye, aye, Marianne!" she cried as she put an arm around Marianne's shoulders. "Boggy, will you pretty please join Sunny for his bachelor's party?"

"I suppose," he said, smiling.

"Yay! That was much easier than I thought it would be," cheered Dawn as the three went to their vehicles. "Have fun! We might see you while we're dancing!"

By the time that the girls' van made it to the karaoke bar, Dawn knew all the pertinent details of the day, and she loved Bog all the more for it. She was mad at her father and disgusted with Roland.

"If Roland comes to the wedding, I will personally kick him out," said Dawn confidently. "Don't feel bad about not talking to Dad. He deserves it. Let him apologize first. Now let's drink and sing!"

All the girls sang until Marianne was the only one left who hadn't. She was finally convinced, and Dawn secretly recorded it, as it was the first time she had publicly done karaoke in forever. She very much wanted to show it to Bog later.

"Dawn, this one's for you. This is how I feel about all this wedding stuff and hullabaloo," said Marianne as David Bowie's "Modern Love" came on.

She sang it loud and proud, and all the girls present cheered her on. When she finished, Dawn insisted on an encore, and so Marianne was convinced because it was Dawn. She followed up with David Bowie's "Rebel Rebel", and everyone in the bar loved it.

Bog was shocked to receive two texts from Dawn, sending him the videos. When he watched, however, Sunny and all around him chuckled as he blushed and watched the videos of Marianne singing with rapt attention.

"See anything you like there?" asked Sunny after the videos were done.

"I, uh, it's just, well, it's Marianne," said Bog, trying to play it cool and failing.

"Do you like her?" asked Sunny seriously. "It's okay if you do."

"Really?" asked Bog in shock. "Am I that obvious? You like me?"

"Of course I do!" cried Sunny, slapping an arm. "You're cool, and you make Marianne happier than I've ever seen her. And believe me, I've known her a long time. Why haven't you asked her out yet?"

"Because, well, you know, it's not the right time. I don't think she sees me that way," said Bog before rushing to add, "and I wouldn't want to ruin our friendship. I think she's just grateful. She couldn't be interested in me. I'm just … me."

"Bog, that's a load of crap. Do yourself a favor, and ask her out at the wedding reception or after. She likes you. She wouldn't sing if it weren't for you," said Sunny confidently. "If she was grateful, she'd buy you a gift or something. Just try."

"I'll consider it," hedged Bog, making Sunny shake his head.

"We'll see if you still feel the same after later tonight."

By the end of the bachelorette party, Marianne was quite drunk, but she still had enough wherewithal to wonder how they ended up at the same bar as the guys. She kept her mouth shut, however, when Bog immediately appeared in front of her, asking her how her night went.

"Dance with me, and I'll tell you."

So they did. They tried all the moves Marianne had taught him with some success. Within a few songs, they went from the center of the floor to a quieter, darker corner, and before long, Marianne was beginning to droop. She started by dancing more slowly, and then it turned into leaning against him for support. Bog enjoyed every second of it secretly, not minding that they just swayed with the music.

"Bog, will you take me home?" she asked after almost falling asleep on him.

"Sure. Let's go, Marianne," he said, leading her toward her sister.

Once Dawn gave her blessing, Bog found an Uber and got them home. By the time they got to Marianne's house, she was more awake, enough to pay for both of them and to walk out alone, even if she stumbled.

"Bog, I had an amazing time tonight. Thank you," she said, leaning in.

She would have kissed him, but he pulled away. This was not how he wanted to kiss her; he wanted her sober and not just grateful. When her face crumpled slightly, he reached in and stroked her cheek before whispering in her ear, "Not here like this, Marianne. Go inside and get some sleep."

"Okay. Another time," she said, smiling brilliantly. "Good night."

Bog couldn't figure out if she liked him or not. He took it as a good sign that she sent him text messages every time she woke up during the night, and even as she lay in bed complaining about all her poor choices in drinking more alcohol. She vowed never to drink again, and he insisted she would at Dawn's wedding, so there was much back-and-forth until she fell asleep.

The last conscious thought Marianne had on Sunday was to call Brutus first thing Monday morning. Roland had been the cause of all this, and she was tired of dealing with him. If even her bad life choices of drinking too much could be alright because of Bog, then it was time to seriously reconsider her priorities in life, starting with Bog and her work.

She refused to say she was in love, but Dawn had a blast suggesting otherwise.

--BB--

Author's Notes: Thanks for reading! One more chapter to go, and then an epilogue!