I never really understood why my opinion was so valued by whomever read that little book I wrote, I mean, I was no philosopher or anything vaguely similar. I just expressed my opinion, and I still don't get why people saw it as this heroic act of whatever honestly, I didn't rewrite history, I just complained about how it sucked to be a single father. After the divorce, I left France, and left the house I had with only the clothes on my back and of course my baby grand. It was the only constant in my life, it never changed, was always there for me when I wanted to play until my fingers fell off, and it didn't look at me weirdly, as if I still required professional help. That's what I loved about it, it never changed and it was always there. It was the greatest thing Sylvester ever gave me, I'm of course thankful for all the knowledge he's taught me on music, since he was the one who taught me to read notes, write music, all the terms and things I say now, but nonetheless all that could be useless if I didn't have that ivory piece of treasure. You could see in the way I played the thing how much I absolutely treasured it, most men my age had a sports car from 1985 that they'd restored and now named Sally or Bethany because it's become the equivalent for their wife who: a) either divorced them, b) is dead and c) hates them because of the car, I had a piano. Not a 1984 Chevy in a beautiful red colour, no, I had an ivory baby grand my father left me when he shot himself.

Anyway on the note of piano's and all things related to that, I'd like to mention another event that happened to me close to that time. I got a call during a session one day, and after ignoring it four times, I decided whomever was calling obviously needed me, so I cut the session short and tended to the person on the other side of the line.

"Is this Dr Harry Holt speaking?" The voice asked, it was male, deep and probably in it's late forties.

"Yes, how may I be of assistance?" I asked in reply.

"Am I correct when I say that you are the third, and most musical son of Sylvester Holt?" It asked.

"Yes, why is this relevant?" I answered.

"My name is Andre, and I'm calling on behalf of the New York Symphony. Your father conducted the orchestra at your age, around thirty-eight, nine? Anyway, point is, as a tribute we'd like for you to do the same." Andre said, and though I was flattered, I had never conducted an orchestra before.

"I'm flattered, Andre. But I've never conducted before, I'm more of a hands on type of musician?" I replied.

"No worries, doctor. We have an instructor on site and most prodigies like yourself find it almost natural to conduct an orchestra." He said.

"All right, well, thank you. But you are aware that I live in Stockport, England, right?" I asked.

"Yes, we are. And we are willing to pay you to do this for us. Your father's fanbase, if I may, are demanding a tribute concert from you, doctor Holt. They say that since you're the only living, musical descendant of the musical genius that was Sylvester Holt, it would be fantastic if you did." He spoke, and it kind of made me smile.

"Well, then. I'd be honoured, when is this happening?" I asked.

"June this year, you'll be doing a tour of the US for the summer." He said.

"Sounds extravagant. Suppose I'm in then." I replied, smiling.

"Fantastic!" He paused, "thank you very much. How soon can you be in New York?" He finished off.

"Around a week I suppose?" I answered.

"Great, then, I will see you then! We will send your tickets through e-mail as well as your hotel." He said.

"Well, thank you." I replied, and he hung up, "kids! C'mere. I have a big announcement to make."

Both Jude and Aubella emerged from their rooms, and walked into mine, sitting swiftly on the bed.

"Yeah?" Jude asked.

"How do you feel about New York?" I asked, trying to restrict the smile wanting to spread across my face.

"Dad! New York is where the Goffrey School of Ballet is, and they give out summer programs for extraordinary dancers!" Aubella immediately answered.

"And New York is where Julliard is." Jude finished.

"So, pretty great." She concluded, shrugging.

"So, how would you feel if I told you that we were going to New York for three months?" I finally let the grin break loose and watched as both kids' mouths dropped open.

"NO WAY!" Aubella exclaimed, practically leaping up to tackle me down on the bed.

"DAD YOU'RE KIDDING!" Jude chimed in, also pinning me down.

"No, no!" I said, laughing, "dead serious!"

"I LOVE YOU!"

"BEST FATHER EVER!"

"You guys only love me when I give you things." I laughed, both of them looked to each other, shrugged, and then hugged me tightly.

New York is fantastic, but it's not as great when you're severely jet lagged and probably sick from flying for around twelve to fourteen hours. I didn't leave my hotel room for the first two days, mostly since I was practically chained to my bed. I had never slept more in my life, I had also never slept less in my life. Odd, but true. I woke up at three in the morning, convinced it was noon and I needed tea.

"Father, please. Go to bed." Jude said, mostly since I was being bloody annoying.

"I refuse." I said like a stubborn child.

"Why are you my father?!I" Aubella chimed in, sighing as she smothered her face into a pillow.

"What time is it even?" I asked.

"Three in the bloody morning!" Jude exclaimed.

"Well, I'm mighty starving." I stated, shrugging.

"Raid the mini fridge." Aubella suggested.

"I have to pay for that!" I replied, "what about Mc Donalds, you know, I don't think they have that in London."

"Of course they do, Dad. It's just chiefly American, and you'll probably gain a ton if you dare eat it." Jude replied.

"Still." I protested.

"What take-out will be open at three in the morning? And besides, whether you raid the mini fridge or scour the city for take-out, you're paying either way." Aubella replied.

"When the hell did my kids become me?" I asked, "seriously though. If we're going to stay in America, we need the full experience."

"OBESITY HERE I COME!" Jude said, getting up.

"We are not seriously considering this, Jude." She sighed.

"Screw you, I want to get fat!" Jude replied.

"How am I related to a bunch of psychopaths?" She looked up, as if expecting an answer, before standing up.

"Bells, leave the hormones in the room, please." I asked nicely, but she stuck her tongue out at me.

"Let's go scour New York for a Mc Donalds!" She proclaimed, walking to the door.

"HELL YES OBESITY!" Jude said, fisting the air in triumph.

"I think my kids are just as crazy as I am." I said, following them.

"Wait." Aubella said, "how're you going to drive?"

"With these hands." I said.

"Dad, you have a British license." She replied, "in the US, the steering wheel is on the other side, as well as you drive on the opposite side of the road."

"Bells, this is why God gifted us with legs." I said, "Jude, find the nearest take-out."

"I feel like I'm on a mission." He laughed, "at three in the morning, in New York."

"Exhilarating." I replied, laughing as well.

"Apparently, there's this place called In 'n Out burger just down the road." Aubella said, gazing up from her phone, "it's authentic American."

"Then the decision has been made." I said, and that, dear reader, is how I had an authentic American meal at three in the morning in a country I barely knew. The people stared at us, mostly since I spoke with my crisp Stockport accent and well, what the hell were we doing at this place at three in the morning? Nonetheless it was a pretty great meal, even though I barely remember it, I think the jet lag tranquilizers or what not had some effect on my mind, because when Aubella repeated the affair to me, it sounded like I was either completely drunk, or slightly high.

"Mr Holt! So glad to finally meet you!" A man came walking over to me, smiling.

"Same to you, Andre." I smiled happily as he briskly embraced me, patting my back. Apparently it was a thing, a thing I wasn't aware of.

"So glad you're here, shall I introduce you to the Orchestra?" He asked, and I nodded happily as he lead me out onto the stage. The auditorium was fantastically huge, maroon seats all around and behind me was the orchestra. Andre clapped his hands a couple times, and everyone was now staring at me.

"I'd like you all to meet the Maestro." He said, smiling as he gestured to me.

"Hello, I suppose." I laughed sheepishly, "I'm so honoured to be here, really. Also, if you're not aware, my name is Harry Holt, third and musical son of Sylvester Holt, the musical genius that conducted you all years ago." I said, and some of them nodded, other's smiled.

"Right, I suppose you can handle it from here?" Andre asked, and I nodded, momentarily turning to him.

"Great." He said, stepping off stage.

"Okay, well before we start addressing the set list and all that, I would like to know whom I'm working with, so, if you like please rise, just state your name and the section you're in." I smiled happily, an old man rose, nodding.

"I'm Bob, and the violin section." He said, sitting down as another man rose.

"My name is Jeff, also violin section." He said. After I'd met the violinists, we moved on to the oboes.

"I am Sigourney, first oboe." She stated proudly.

"Jennifer, second oboe." Another said.

And finally a rather young girl stood up shyly, "Iris, fill in. Also oboe." She said, not meeting my gaze.

"Pleased to meet you all then." I said, and after meeting the whole orchestra I was set, "let's just jump right into it then? Says here first thing we need to master, or at least I need to, is the Blanc piece. It's a little different not playing it." I laughed softly, as I stood up on the step for the conductor. In front of me were the notes, and highlighted were the tempos and the volumes. Counting off with my fingers, I nodded as the piece started with absolute grace. As soon as it did, my hand absolutely developed a mind of it's own, almost expertly conducting the people in front of me. The violinists' streaks got louder, and my hand moved faster and faster as we reached the crescendo, and finally the end. It was absolutely beautiful.

"Well, that was certainly amazing." I stated, "great job, really."

"AND YOU SAY YOU'VE NEVER CONDUCTED!" Andre yelled from the audience, causing me to laugh.

"Mr Holt." Andre was next to me as I left the building.

"Andre, you can call me Harry." I said, smiling.

"Right, Harry. How do you feel about interviews?" Dear reader, this is where it gets bizarre. Andre told me that a bunch of television talk shows wanted to have me as a guest, yes, me, good old fancy pants Harry Holt on telly. Why? God knows, I'm not a particularly interesting person, but apparently people disagreed, because next thing I knew I was dressed up and sitting on a couch next to two people hosting a television show.

"What an honour!" The woman exclaimed.

"Why?" I asked lamely.

"Well, sitting next to us is the son of the legendary Sylvester Holt! The absolute king of classical music, the epitome of the New York Symphony." The man said.

"Now you're just flattering." I said, laughing.

"How does it feel to be following in such big footsteps?" Woman asked.

"Honestly? Terrifying. My father was a fantastic conductor, composer as well as musician, and I'm literally terrified I won't make him proud, or worse, the thousands of people going to watch me." I said.

"I can only imagine." Man replied, smiling.

"Yeah." I said.

"How is America treating you?" Woman asked, seemed like she was asking all the questions.

"Yeah, how's it here?" Man asked.

"Astounding. It's fascinating, because on my first night here, I think I was so jet lagged, that at three in the morning I dragged my kids to this place called In 'n Out burger and basically raided the place." I admitted laughing, "it's an interesting place. A lot different from Britain, mostly since American's drive on the other side of the bloody road."

Man and woman laughed, "must be hard to adjust."

"How are you handling your newfound fame?" Man asked.

"It's a bit weird, thinking about it. Since I'm not really famous, in my eyes. But it's odd having people come up to me asking if I'm the conductor for the Symphony. Along with that I've got a bunch of teenage girls and moms coming up to me for my book." I said.

"That's right, you've not only got conducting the Symphony under your résumé, but also a bestseller. Do you think the book will ever be put into a film? There's been a lot of demand for it recently." Woman said.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I don't know if it will, because my publishers have told me, but it would be pretty weird having to say all the things in there. Mostly since I was either severely tired or slightly drunk." I replied, laughing again. This time the audience laughed with me.

"I honestly think it would be a great film, I'd for sure watch it!" Man said.

"I'm flattered, but I don't think so." I replied, smiling.

"Well, let's take to social media, see what the people are saying." Woman said.

"Alright." I agreed, as a tweet popped up on a screen behind me.

"Allison asks whether you'll come to Alabama?" Man asks.

"Well, Allison. After the Symphony's opening week, I'll be going around the US for the Final Hours Tribute tour, for around two months, returning to New York for a while after the whole shebang, so yes, most likely I will be." I answered, smiling.

"Bianca from Texas asks whether if she runs into you on the street, you'd be willing to take a picture with her." Woman asks.

"Depends on how my hair looks." I answered, and the audience laughed again.

"Demi asks whether you're single or not." Woman smirked, and I swear I was blushing.

"Yes, yes I am, Demi." I said.

"Harry, are you aware that you are one of the most desired men as of last week?" Man asked.

"Bloody hell! Seriously?" I asked, genuinely taken aback. The audience laughed again.

"Yes, all the women are absolutely dying for you." Woman said.

"Well, that's certainly flattering. But – wow, alright." I laughed, "what does this mean."

"Attention." She said.

And she was right, because the next morning, I could not leave my room.

"DAD THERE ARE A BUNCH OF TEENAGE GIRLS OUTSIDE THE DOOR WANTING TO KNOW IF YOU'LL SIGN THEIR BREASTS?" Jude exclaimed, after slipping into the room.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Yes, but not the boob-signing parts." He laughed.

"How am I going to get to rehearsal?" I asked, and there was a knock on the door. Jude opened it, and there stood Andre and a rather large black fellow.

"Harry, hello!" He said.

"Are you aware of the mob outside the hotel?" I asked.

"Fully yeah. This is why we've got Garth here." He pointed to the black man.

"Hi?" I asked sheepishly.

"'Sup?" Garth asked.

"I'm going to pretend I know what sup means." I replied, laughing.

"Are you ready to leave?" Andre asked.

"Partly, yeah." I nodded.

"Bring your kids." He said.

"Ready to tackle the army of teenage girls outside?" I asked both of them.

"My body is ready." Jude answered.

"Disgusting. And yes." Aubella replied, as I laughed.

"Let's go then." I looked to Andre, who handed me some sunglasses and nodded as he and Garth stepped outside. In the foyer of the hotel, the doors were barred shut, and the lobby attendants fighting to keep the mob out. At the sight of me, their screaming increased almost making my ears bleed.

"We should go around the back." Andre suggested.

"The car is up front." Garth said.

"Damn it, let's go then." He replied.

"Is this safe?" Jude asked.

"Of course." Andre smiled nervously as the attendants opened the doors and Garth stepped out, trying to make a way through the girls. The police had arrived, holding the crowd back as I walked through. Some girls extended things for me to sign, and hesitantly I scribbled signatures here, there and everywhere. Some of them had phones, extended and ready to snap a picture, and sometimes I stopped, smiling for a picture with some of them, they bloody loved it.

Finally after we got into the car, Andre said, "do you have social medias?"

"No." I answered truthfully.

"Not even Facebook?" He asked.

"Never appealed to me, I suppose." I shrugged.

"Well, you do now. Give me your phone." He said, and I did. Five minutes later he gave it back and on it there were a bunch of social media apps.

"Crash course social medias. Now that the whole world knows of you, per say, you need to embrace it, for the orchestra's sake. On there is now Twitter, Instagram and YouTube." Andre said, "open the Twitter app, and compose a tweet."

"Right." I replied, tapping on it, and examining it. Apparently, I had over two hundred thousand followers, "how the hell do I have that many?"

"People are searching for you, all over the globe." Andre said, smiling triumphantly.

"Wow." I replied, completely blown away. I composed something, a simple 'Hello Social Media! (:' and immediately my phone was blowing up.

"How is this even possible?" I asked.

"The magic of teenage girls." Andre said, "open your Instagram."

"Okay." I said, "what's it for?"

"It's like Twitter, with pictures." Jude answered, grabbing my phone, and opening the app. He did something, and my camera opened, "smile! This is going online!"

I smiled, and Aubella made a funny face, then Jude handed the phone back to me.

"Now you compose a caption." He said, and I typed a simple, 'Hiiii Instagram'

Jude took it again, tagging his and Aubella's accounts.

"Basically whenever you feel like sharing a moment with the world, you post it on these apps. People love it." Andre said, smiling.

"Sounds easy enough." I nodded, putting the phone back in my pocket, only to have to vibrating on my butt. It was odd, the whole idea of being famous. But I guess it sounds better until you actually do it.