"She's on her way," Ana says when I don't ask.
"She said that twenty minutes ago."
Jo glances at her phone and smiles. Of course she does.
I snap at Jeremy for rushing the count-in. I make Ana redo a clean take because the tone is “muddy,” which it isn’t. I tell Jo the reverb she loves makes the whole track sound like it was recorded in a stairwell. Every time someone laughs at something on their phone I feel it behind my teeth.
“Okay.” Jo sets down her headphones. “What is going on with you today?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’ve made Ana do that take four times.”
“Well, it wasn’t right.”
“It was right on the second one.” She says. “Rhonda. You’re allowed to be a person. What’s wrong?”
“I’m just stressed. The label, the EP, Sandy. It’s a lot. But I’m handling it.”
“You don’t have to handle all of it,” Ana says.
“Someone does.” It comes out harder than I mean it to, and the room goes quiet.
Jeremy sets his sticks down. “Take a few days off, Rhonda. Seriously. Go somewhere. We’ll survive a week without you.”
Nobody offers to book the studio, or field the label, or chase Sandy down. They just want me to go be tired somewhere they don’t have to watch.
“Sorry,” I say, to Ana, to the room. “The tone was fine. Both takes were fine. I’m sorry.”
“We know,” Ana says. Nobody says anything else, and I pack up my bass with hands that won’t quite settle.
Thursday morning, the booking agent calls.
“So Rhonda, about Friday’s hometown show,” she says. “Confirming load-in at four, doors at eight. And you asked me to add a name to the guest list?”
“Lena,” I say. “Just Lena. No plus-one.”
“Done,” she says. “She’s on the door.”
I end the call. Open my texts.
You’re really flying in Friday?
I watch the three dots. Eleven minutes. Long enough that she's deliberating. Short enough that she's not running away.
Depends. Are you going to get revenge for the soda?
The grin arrives before I can stop it.
I make no promises. But I’ll try not to break anything you bring this time.
Bold of you to assume I’m bringing armour this time.
I plug in my bass. Play the opening riff of "Nightwork" because my hands need something to do that isn't texting.
"Good mood?" Ana asks.
"Same mood as always."
