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“Can you interpret Fender’s grunts?” Indy asks.
“You figure it out when you’re around him enough.”
“I can talk,” Fender grumbles.
“But he prefers not to,” I say.
Jett races toward us and stops in front of Indy before dropping to his knee. “Fair maiden, will you marry me?”
He reaches for her but I slap his hand away. “Knock it off. You’re not funny.”
Gibson raises his hand behind him. “I thought it was funny.”
Jett’s eyes widen in feigned surprise. “You do have a sense of humor?”
Gibson growls. “Scaring the shit out of someone isn’t funny.”
Jett laughs. “Yeah, it was.”
Gibson steps toward Jett, but I shove my way between them. “Enough. We’re supposed to be recording a song today.”
“Are you staying, Indigo?” Dylan asks.
Indy bites her lip. “If you don’t mind.”
“Why would we mind? You’re one of us now,” he says and everyone nods in agreement.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Welcome to the family, sweetness.”
Our producer walks into the reception area. “Are we going to start at some time today?”
“This is Stan. He’s our producer. This is my Indy,” I introduce.
Indy smiles and waves at him.
“Great. A groupie. Just what we need.”
Before I can respond, the band is lined up in front of Stan.
“She’s one of us,” Dylan insists, and Fender grunts in agreement.
“This is Indigo, you dumb shit,” Jett says.
“Dumb shit,” Gibson repeats.
Stan sighs and raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Whatever. Are we making music today or what?”
“Let’s go guys,” I say and make my way toward the studio. I open the door to the sound room and motion toward our studio engineer. “This is Rob. You can stay in here with him.”
I wait for Rob to be an asshole but he smiles at Indy and points to the sofa. “You can sit there.”
Indy glances around. “You sure I won’t be in the way?”
“You can never be in the way.”
“Okay.” She pushes up on her tiptoes to kiss me before making her way to the sofa. “Go make music.”
I follow the guys into the studio. I sit on a stool in front of a microphone and pick up my guitar.
