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“Yeah, they do. Kill, you do. And if we’re going to be successful, which I know we are, we’re going to need to use good material. And mine right now leaves a lot to be desired.”
“What are you talking about?”
He took a heavy breath. The sigh that followed on a deep exhale was nearly painful. “Listen, I’m not an idiot. I know exactly how this industry works. You stop making music, you die, and no one’s going to be there to watch out for you. Help keep your career going. We’re lucky. We have Jackie in our corner. That doesn’t happen very often. She’s a gift, and we need to treat her like one. So that means the two of us have to get over our differences. We need to take care of the person taking care of us.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing here?”
“Yeah, and that means we’re gonna write Jackie the best song we have in us, all right?”
I narrowed my eyes, frustrated because he was right. “You playing one of my songs isn’t gonna do that.”
“It’s like you don’t even listen.”
“I do listen. I’m listening. This is me. Ears open, all right?” My throat tightened as I watched his expression flicker from panicked to resigned.
“I haven’t been able to write anything worth listening to since my last Grammy nom.”
“You haven’t?”
“No, I haven’t. I want to, but I haven’t.”
This was a disaster in the making. Neither one of us could write. We were just going to what? Sit here and stare at each other, willing the music to appear?
“So, how are we going to do this?”
“We’re gonna get started with me using this song you wrote. We’re gonna take it apart and figure out what made it so bleeding good. And then we’re going to use one of mine and do the same thing.”
My eyes went wide as a realization settled deep in my bones. We were going to merge our styles together. It made sense. In a way, the two of us had our own audiences, but we also had strong styles that really could come together. I’d heard it before, witnessed it, listened to it, and enjoyed the hell out of it.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“Good,” he said, nodding. “First thing I’m going to need you to do is stop staring at me and start playing.”
So, I followed his lead. I began strumming the chords of the song that had catapulted us into the spotlight. It came to me easily once I got started, just a simple set of changes— Cowboy chords—but it wasn’t long before we began singing together, him harmonizing with me, the melody coming through strong and solid. Something magical happened as we continued to play, the music between us morphing and changing into something a little slower. A lot sexier, with an intensity I couldn’t escape. The air around us grew heavy, layered with a different kind of tension.
He sighed as the last chord played and let out a groan that had me fighting one of my own. I wasn’t supposed to want him. I knew that sure as I knew my own name. But there was no way to deny the truth. I did want him.
He swallowed thickly, a muscle in his jaw working as he stared me down, a deep furrow building between his brows.
“Why the fuck would you ever consider quitting this?”
I had to swallow back my initial response, which was for me to tell him it wasn’t any of his goddamn business. Instead, I simply shrugged.
“There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“Yeah. Well. That’s not news to me.”
“I’m a fucking mess.”
The laugh he let out was tight. “And you think I’m not?”
“I never said that.”
“That’s right. You didn’t because you can’t. Tell me what happened.”
The truth was, I was too fucking embarrassed to say anything about what caused the breakdown of my band. I didn’t want anyone to know.
“If you don’t tell me, I can’t do anything to help you.”
