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What am I going to do when Zoe goes back to the States? Will Sara want to stay, or will she head back home too?
Problems for another day. For now, I rejoin the party and remind myself that I signed up for this life.
“Well, fuck me,”I say with wonder.
Ram puts the tablet down and looks at the four of us. “What do you think?” he says, without a hint of self-consciousness or pride.
We’re in Marcus’s hotel suite, going over song choices for our next album, and it’s barely organized chaos. I prefer to handwrite, but the rest of the band prefers digital, so we’ve each got multiple devices plus generous piles of papers around us. Some of them have works in progress, some of them have scratched notes or scribbled-out bars.
We’ve been at it for hours, and with every hour that passes, the five of us have wound tighter and tighter.
This is good. This is really good. We’ve revised almost every song I’ve brought to the table and reworked them with everyone contributing. Well, not Marcus, who says he’d rather piss on an electric fence than try to write lyrics. But the rest of the group is excited and energized and laughing.
And Ram’s just blown me away with lyrics he’s written.
“Fucking hell,” Alwin says, sitting back and running his hands through his hair.
“I think I owe you an apology, Ram,” I say.
“What for?”
“I didn’t take your song seriously. I’m sorry. I should have paid more attention to it and seen its potential.”
Ram’s eyebrows draw together. “It was two lines, mate. You don’t have to apologize. It was rubbish. But I worked it out.”
“Clearly not rubbish,” I point out.
“Well, even a diamond comes from shit, right?” he says cheerily.
June, Alwin, and I glance at each other. “Do you mean coal?” June asks.
“But the lines weren’t coal,” Ram explains. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“All right.” Marcus moves us on. “We’ve got twenty-three songs sketched out enough to have merit. And about two dozen more that have potential. I say we move to London and start playing around.”
Holy fucking shit. We have an album. We’re going to have another goddamn album.
June throws her head back on the couch. “Thank Christ.” With stage makeup and dye, she’s the most disguised of all of us. Today, she’s without the costume, and her blond ringlets and dimples are refreshing. I’ve missed her face.
“Can we please, please, celebrate?” Alwin says. Ram sits up, eager as always.
“I wanted to meet up with Sara.” I grimace in apology.
“Bring her,” Ram says, perking up. “I’ve got friends in town too.”
“She’s got Zoe here too.”
Ram shrugs. “So? She’s nice.”
I glance at June and Alwin, who both nod, and I pull out my phone. “Where to?”
Chris
Are you two free to come meet up with us?
Sara
You’ve had a long day and so have we. I think it’s best if we catch up later. And I’m going to travel to Munich with Zoe tomorrow. I’ll see you back at your house tomorrow night?
