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“Hungry much?” he asked.
“Starving. And FYI, I’m not the kind of girl who’s self-conscious about eating in front of other people.” She loaded another chip. “Get in my mouth.” She noticed his notes on the floor and read them while she chewed. Huh. Every single line he’d crossed out shared one similar attribute. “You’re forcing a happy ending.”
“What?”
She gestured to the notebook. “The song. Maybe that’s why it’s not working for you. Maybe their story doesn’t end well.”
“You said that’s what you like about my songs. That they end ‘in triumph.’”
“Maybe the triumph is that they split up and find their true happiness with other people. The right people.”
“That’s not what the song’s about. They’re committed to each other.” He stopped eating, looking truly upset. “Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s the way he describes her. It’s like he feels affection for her, but none of that tear your clothes off I have to have you kind of love.”
“That’s because they’ve known each other a long time. That kind of passion fades.”
“It’s a song. Your listeners want high emotions, high stakes. They want to feel something. In real life, couples might be pals. Maybe they marry because they’re compatible or they both want kids, and they’ve reached a certain age, but in songs or books or movies, who wants a boring couple like that? So, either make this couple volatile and interesting or break them up.”
“What’s your idea of interesting?”
“Well, conflict, right? They love each other, but they can’t be together…because she’s his brother’s girlfriend.”
“This isn’t a soap opera. That’s not what I write about.”
“Cool, but this song isn’t working. So give them a conflict. Maybe he loves her but he’s not in love with her anymore.”
“Maybe he never was.” Underneath the flatness of his tone, she heard an undercurrent of worry.
She stopped chewing to look at him. “That would change the entire song, but it could be really powerful. Realizing you’re not in love with someone, but you love them enough that ending the relationship will cost you something big. An important friendship, a connection to a family you’ve grown close to. She can be the one person in the world he wants to talk to, hang out with, and confide in, but not the woman he wants to fuck senseless.” She slapped her hand on the table. “That’s it. That’s the song. I love her, but my hands want to explore someone else’s body. I love her, but I ache for someone else.”
He dropped his fork and picked up the pencil. As he wrote furiously, she sat quietly eating her lunch, dying to know what he was writing, what he was thinking, but not wanting to disturb his flow.
The energy coming off him was electric. He was a true creative genius, and she got such a high off just being there while the ideas gushed out of him. It made her want to get her own notebook and start writing.
When he finished, he set the paper down and loaded his fork with salad. “Now, I’m hungry.”
She smiled, and while he ate, she filled him in on all the things she’d accomplished. He nodded, seeming pleased and relaxed. “Martin said he turned down the licensing deal for Tomorrow Again, and that the producer doubled his offer.”
“The designer uses child labor. He can’t use our song no matter how much he pays us.”
“That’s what Martin told him.”
Bex set his fork down and shifted back on the cushion. “I’m stuffed.” He smiled at her. “Let’s order dessert.”
“You never eat dessert.” She unconsciously reached to pat his taut belly but jerked her hand back. No more of that.
“Yeah, but I want lobster tails.”
“You just said you wanted dessert. Now you want seafood?”
“No, Carlos’s lobster tails are epic. They’re like cannoli, only it’s a flaky, sweet, crunchy pastry and a creamy filling. You’ll love them.”
“Okay, you’re triplets, right? You’re the third brother I haven’t met yet?”
He chuckled. “What, I can’t want dessert?”
“So, all it took to change your mood was editing a few words?”
