I glanced at Abel just in time to see his expression darken.
It wasn’t my business. I didn’t need to know the background of the album or why they were recording it in their home town rather than at one of the studios in LA they must have used before. I couldn’t resist looking them up last night and had learned a bit more of the band history.
After the release of their first album and the subsequent critical acclaim, the band had moved to LA. Charlie had been in LA for a few years, hopping between various metal and punk bands. He’d joined Bleeding Moonlight and helped write their second album, which most critics considered their best. After that, they’d released two more, the last one being three years ago.
“You sound real good,” Silas told me as I continued my strumming. “The hammer ons during the bridge need a bit of work. Let’s try those again.”
We went over the section again, with Silas showing me how I could make slight modifications to my technique. I was learning a ton from him. He was an excellent guitarist, one of the best of our generation, and a couple of times, when no one was looking I pinched my thigh to reassure myself that I wasn’t dreaming. Of course, I was careful not to show my starstruck awe of him. Of all of them.
“Do you want to hop on some vocals with us?” Silas asked Abel after he deemed my playing close enough to what he was envisioning. “Would be good to hear how it sounds.”
Abel looked like he’d rather nail his hand to the wall. Still, he mustered a curt nod and stood up to plug in the mic that was leaning against the wall.
I was curious to hear him sing in person, to find out if he sounded different from the perfectly edited vocal track on the albums.
Silas and I began playing the song, and then Abel opened his mouth and nearly made me forget what I was doing.
“Scratch your promise into my skin
Tell me all the things I want to hear
Together, we make the sun rise
Over a land cloaked in darkness”
His voice sounded just as good as it did on their albums, but there was a rawness to it that took my breath away.
Silas gave me a knowing look, as if he could tell I was blown away and that it was a common reaction to hearing Abel sing live.
He sang like it was the last thing he was going to do. Long, elegant fingers gripped the mic, and his eyes drifted closed at certain parts of the song. He looked utterly heartbreaking, and I averted my eyes when my pulse began to speed up.
We finished the song and descended into a stunned silence. At least on my part.
Silas nodded thoughtfully. “I liked that.”
I almost laughed at his measured assessment, but I managed to bite my tongue at the last moment to keep quiet. Abel shot me a look and then shrugged at Silas. “Let’s go again.”
We practiced two more times, each one lifting my mood more and more. I was keeping up with them, improving with every repetition. Maybe this was going to work after all.
“Hey, we’re finished,” Ezra said, coming into the room. “We were thinking about getting some lunch before coming back and rehearsing together.”
“Sounds great,” I said, thinking that more food would keep my energy going.
Ezra gave me a warm smile, setting off a traitorous flock of butterflies in my stomach. I was not used to being surrounded by so many good-looking men, and it was as if my libido was punishing me for the two-year dry spell by demanding my attention.
We left the studio and climbed into the SUV, Ezra hopping into the driver’s seat. Their driver didn’t seem pleased when Cole told him he didn’t need to come with us. It seemed like he was part driver, part bodyguard. To me, they looked more than capable of protecting themselves.
My thoughts were only further confirmed when I found myself squished between Silas and Cole in the middle row, their taut biceps pressing against my arms, toned but skinny in comparison.
“You okay? If it’s too tight, we can unload the back and pull up the third row,” Cole offered.
I shook my head. “All good.” I could think of many worse things to be subjected to. “We’re not going far, are we?”
Ezra looked at us from the rearview mirror. “How about Annie’s?”
I grinned at him, “That’s one of my favorites. Her omelets are to die for.”
Annie’s was a diner off the side of the main highway, a bit of a local institution. I hadn’t been in ages, and the thought of having a bite of their spinach and goat cheese omelet made my stomach growl in anticipation.
