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“Okay, thanks.”
I didn’t, really, but it felt nice to sit with them and just relax. The pizza tasted like nothing in my mouth, and I had no idea what was going on in Law & Order, but I could totally see what Ven meant about the bassist, a mousy guy who never made eye contact and didn’t really talk to anyone but the techies, but was magic with his instrument.
When the episode credits rolled and another one came on immediately after, I realized my bandmates were in it for the long haul. Ethan poured everyone orange soda from the two-liter bottle he’d crammed diagonally into the refrigerator.
“This stuff is disgusting and delicious,” Coco said, toasting us with her tumbler.
“Right?” said Ethan. “I haven’t had it in like ten years but the pizza guy was out of everything else except root beer.”
“I love root beer,” said Ven, still staring at the TV.
“I know.” Ethan’s voice was neutral, but Coco winked at him.
I drank the soda and, as with the pizza, tasted nothing, but it coated my teeth and fizzed up the back of my nose unpleasantly.
“So, um, I wrote a couple songs,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I thought we could play one live, to see how it goes over. Maybe at the Chicago show, since it’s our last?”
“Ugh, Chicago always hates new songs,” Ven muttered.
“Awesome,” Coco said. “Can we hear?”
“Yeah. Do you mind?” I reached out a hand for her guitar and she passed it over.
“Dude.” Ethan elbowed Ven, who was staring at the television intently.
“Huh? Oh, sorry.” He muted the TV and turned to me.
A sudden flare of nerves reminded me of how personal these songs felt. How different.
I started to play the song, closing my eyes so I could forget I was sitting on the floor in a hotel with an episode of Law & Order on mute in the background.
When I dampened the final chord with my hand, I opened my eyes slowly. They were all staring at me.
Ven’s eyes were narrowed. Ethan looked thoughtful, and Coco had her head cocked, which usually meant she was working something out.
“Uhhhmm,” Ven said. I got the sense that, for once, Ven was trying to be tactful. He looked at Ethan and Coco, clearly unsure what to say.
“It’s a beautiful song,” Ethan said.
Coco nodded. “It is. I loved it.”
But their faces didn’t match their words. Ven’s mouth was open like he was dying to speak but still holding himself back.
“Just say it, man,” I told him, and he looked immediately relieved.
“It’s really good, dude. But…what the fuck? For Riven? That’s not our sound, it’s not…it’s nothing like our brand.”
“Our…brand?” I said. “We’re a band. I think we get to decide what kind of music we play.”
“Yeah,” Ven shot back, “we are a band. We’re not the Theo Decker Experience, where we just play whatever the hell is rattling around in your head because you start dating country musicians or whatever!”
“Oh, we don’t play whatever’s in my head? Really? ’Cause I was pretty sure that I wrote the songs and then we played them. Or is that not what’s been going on for the last three albums? And Caleb is a fucking blues musician!” I added, cheeks burning.
Ven rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, excuse the fuck out of me for improperly classifying the music of the dude you’re fucking. Point is? That song’s not a Riven song. So we aren’t gonna play it.”
“Okay, hold on a damn minute,” said Coco. “Ven, you’re basically in a Law & Order–induced trance, so you’re not making any decisions right now.”
Ethan barked out a laugh and the tension in the room eased slightly.
“So, okay, Theo,” she went on. “That is a really different sound for us. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We can make it sound more like the rest of our stuff—change the time signature, add in the other parts…it’s not hopeless. We just need to massage it a little. Right?” She gave Ethan a pointed look.
“Yeah. I can totally work with that,” he said. “Besides, didn’t you say you wrote more than one? Maybe the others would be a better fit right away, for us to play live, and then this one we can start working on when we get home?”
“Great,” said Coco. “Good point. Can we hear?”
My stomach was in a knot.
“Um, you know what? I think the others probably aren’t ready yet. I’ll, uh, keep working on them and then I’ll just let you know. Forget it, okay? This song…it’s…Ven’s right. It’s not a Riven song.”
My heart was pounding, and suddenly all I could taste was that sickly sweet orange soda, and all I could smell was the pizza grease. I had to get out of there.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “I’m gonna take a nap, I think. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you guys later.”
