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“Preach on, brothah. Preach on.” Sitting in a comfortable chair, DJ raised a fist in the air before he leaned forward and tapped his beer against Ox’s. He was all California surfer boy—highlighted shaggy blond hair, blue eyes, and a two-day scruff.
“And the way we shut them up is with an amazing album,” said Augie.
Lauren pressed her lips together and looked at the floor. An amazing album needed amazing songs. And she hadn’t written a single fucking one that would remotely qualify as “amazing.”
“Ah, we’ll be fine. We’ll adapt.” Everyone stared at Ox. A creature of habit, being flexible was not one of his strengths.
“Bollocks.” Stevie called him out.
“Hey, you know me, Mr. Flexible.”
DJ gave a disbelieving snort. “Flexible? No one needs to hear you brag about your sex life.”
“Jealous bitch,” Ox said.
The familiar banter continued, easing Lauren’s anxiety and giving her a sense of family and shared history. In the coming weeks there would be days they’d spend sixteen, eighteen hours at the studio, and other days when they’d gather at someone’s place to collaborate. And there would be a few days in there where they’d all want nothing to do with each other.
They had learned over the years that they were better off living close to each other, but not together, while they recorded. It gave them room to separate when tensions flared and enormous opportunity to be close when it counted.
But for now, they ate, they drank, and they laughed. DJ and Stevie embroiled themselves in an earnest debate over which Van Halen video back in the ‘80s was the best. Lauren’s eclectic playlist switched and the notes of Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back in Town” came on, but the song was drowned out by Ox and Augie playing the latest version ofCall of Duty.They shouted at each other and the screen. Lauren stood behind them offering color commentary about their ability—or distinct lack of it—to shoot the enemy. Augie let out an anguished cry as his avatar was hit by a ridiculous number of bullets.
“You suck at this,” Lauren said to her cousin. “I’m glad you’re not really in the Army. You can’t hit shit!”
Ox, after jumping off the sofa and doing a victory dance around the living room, pulled out his cell phone and started tapping away at a text. Then he took a picture of Augie’s forlorn face and typed a little more. He hit send and laughed.
“Who’d you send that to?” DJ popped a handful of M&Ms into his mouth.
“Cam and Jake. I told them I just crushed Augie on Xbox.” He gave an exaggerated, cackling laugh like an evil genius and rubbed his hands together. Cam and Jake were his two oldest sons. They were fifteen and fourteen, the product of a two-year marriage to his first ex-wife and lived in California with their mother. His second ex lived in Texas with his other two children, Michelle and Robbie. Wife number three had lasted six months before he got that error in judgment annulled, and not soon enough as far as Lauren was concerned.
It was just past midnight when Stevie emerged from the guest bedroom carrying his daughter, Maya. She was still sound asleep, her head on his shoulder. He kept his voice at a whisper. “Time for us to go. Got to get my little luv into her real bed.”
The others took Stevie and Gabby starting to pack up as a sign they should all call it a night. Everyone said their goodbyes and headed out. DJ gave Lauren a hug, picking her up off the floor and spinning her around.
“This is going to be awesome, and I can’t wait to get out on tour with you.”
“You say that now. After a year on the road, you’ll be sick of me.”
“Never! Sick of Augie? Yeah. Stevie and Ox? Totally. But never you.” He winked.
“Dude, move your ass! We ain’t getting any younger over here,” Augie said from the door.
Lauren was still laughing even as the elevator swallowed up the rest of the band. She liked starting off a production session with a party like this. It put everyone in a good mood and reminded them they were all friends. At some point during the project, when the forced togetherness started to chafe, they’d need the fun memories.
Lauren yawned into the quiet of the penthouse. As she brushed her teeth, she studied herself in the mirror and wondered what fans would think about the relatively early night. Would they be disappointed to learn that The Kingmakers didn’t always keep the party going until the sun came up anymore?
Later that night, she woke up, breathless and covered in sweat, the ghostly dream-feel of Danny’s hands on her body visceral. She fumbled with the clock on her nightstand. The neon blue numbers told her it was 2:00 a.m. Crawling out of bed, she stripped off her sweat-soaked tank top and tossed it aside. She rummaged through her bureau drawers until she found a new one.
Out in the kitchen, the glow from a night-light limned the room. She splashed a little water on her face and leaned in to get a drink from the faucet.
I need something stronger than this,she thought, eyeing the bottle of whiskey on the counter. Instead, she grabbed the orange juice out of the refrigerator and drank straight from the bottle. It was one of the perks of living alone: no one complained about late-night eating habits.
She thumped down on the stool at the kitchen island and replayed the dream in her head. It had been a long time since she’d had one that intense. She swore she could still feel Danny’s hands on her body, the scrape of the unshaved stubble on his chin rough on her shoulder as he kissed her neck. Years ago, after she’d moved to the West Coast, she’d had dreams like this all the time—vivid, passionate, downright carnal. Augie had told her more than once on tour that she’d woken him and the others on the tour bus by calling out Danny’s name in her sleep. Over the years, the dreams decreased in frequency, but they never went away.
But this one? This one had an intensity, a level of desire she hadn’t felt in years. Lauren rubbed the bridge of her nose. She reached for one of the notepads and the pen she kept handy. She wanted to capture the dream’s details before they faded; there was probably a song buried in this one somewhere.
She closed her eyes and tried to remember. There had been swings, little kid swings like she used to play on in elementary school. And a pine tree. There had definitely been a pine tree, but those details were ephemeral, intangible. What burned through all of them washim. In the dream, she’d heard Danny behind her. He’d called out, laughing, but before she could turn, he had her in his arms. She’d relaxed, feeling safe and sheltered. The warmth of his skin made her realize they were naked. As he’d tangled his fingers in her hair, she’d leaned her head back, a soft moan escaping her lips as he kissed her harder and his hands slid along her body until he grazed—
Her eyes snapped open. “Jesus!”
