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“Perfect,” he replies, and for the first time his smile seems normal. “I’ll get the stuff set up.”
He heads into the other room, and I grab one of the guitars, plucking at the strings to check if it’s in tune. Adjusting the tuning keys, my fingers strum over the strings, and it seems like everything melts away. I heard the chords, and I already know what I want to get out of my mind.
A click sounds, then I hear his voice through the speakers. “Okay,” he calls out, lifting a thumb up behind the glass. “You’re good to go.”
Offering him a smile and a nod, I pull the microphone closer and start strumming the strings again. It’s a simple melody, on the slower side. I let out a soft hum, closing my eyes, feeling the rhythm and lyrics inside.
There was a time that I wanted it all.
And when I said I wanted you, I wanted for keeps.
But look where you’ve gone and look where I’ve stopped.
Please stop the bleeding, the cuts are just too deep.
Letting my fingers play over the strings, I keep my eyes closed. I slow the rhythm down even more, almost to an angsty slow ballad, feeling the pain from the song.
I wanted it all, and then I had it.
You ran through the clouds, holding my hand,
And when I asked for your promise, you let me go.
Don’t act like you want me, when I know you’re already gone.
Cooing the rhythm, my fingers start to pick at the strings, hitting each note. It’s a song that I’ve been scribbling in notebooks for a while now. I’ve been playing a few other things in front of my brother or the guys, but this is the rawest piece of music I’ve let out. As much as I hate to admit it, I did need this place. It doesn’t remind me of the Kings. It reminds me of nothing, and I feel anonymous singing and playing right now. Which is exactly what I need to get these kinds of songs out of my system.
Please stop the bleeding, the cuts are just too deep.
I repeat the line again and finish with the last strumming of strings. Opening my eyes, I stare at the microphone in front of me. I feel a ball of emotion lodge in my throat and take a deep breath. Shaking my head at myself, I see Austin standing behind the glass. He’s staring at me, but his expression is void of all emotion. It’s a blank stare, and I almost feel like he’s looking right through me.
“Was it that bad?” I ask, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle.
He’s quiet for a moment longer, and I see his Adam’s apple bob. He reaches over, and I hear the click of a button, then his voice. “That was … amazing. Heartbreakingly amazing.”
When I record with the guys, we all compliment each other. We’ll tell one another which lines we think are good or where we can improve. Austin’s comment is the first one I can remember in I don’t know how long that hits me. Even Bret, when I’ve played little snippets of things I’m working on, he’ll tell me it’s good, but he does it so offhandedly. Like he has better things to do. Austin’s words drip with sincerity.
“Thank you,” I reply, looking down at the guitar.
Pulling out his phone, he quickly glances at it before waving it at me. “I have to go. I’d love to just sit in here and listen to you, but I have a class I gotta get to.”
“Oh, you’re in college, too?”
“Yeah. First semester.” He looks around the studio, then back at me. “Um, I’ll leave everything recording, and you can keep going as long as you want. I’m sure you know your way around the mixing board in here.”
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Austin.”
“Yeah …” He waves, unleashing the genuine smile again. “And I promise, you’ll be listed as Kristen King. Um … Why Kristen, if you don’t mind me asking? I get the King part.”
I let out a light giggle. “It’s my first name. Jade is my middle name.”
His smile has stayed in place, and he nods. “Nice. Okay, Kristen. I’ll see you later.”
