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I woke up rock hard this morning, stroking myself to the way our breaths had mingled as we panted at each other in her office, the tension building between us. I shouldn’t have spoken. If I’d been patient, if I’d been good, maybe she would have rewarded me with her lips.
She’d be at our engagement party. I’d checked the RSVPs to see if she was coming. Cat must have ticked yes before she knew I’d be there. I had to find a way to be alone with her again, even for a minute. I wanted to know all the things racing through her mind when she was glaring at me in contempt. What happened when her eyes flicked around the room, little smiles poking through her stony face as they landed on random objects on her desk? Or that slow clenching she'd been doing with her fist when Bunny was talking about the wedding?
Luc looked sceptical. We’d spent countless hours in this booth trying to force out lyrics and music. We would write a decent song, but it felt wrong singing it, or we couldn’t find a tune to make it work. The stuff we did finish, the label hated. They said it wasn’t good enough to release to the mass market, and we had to go back to square one. After years of trying, we’d pretty much given up. It was easier to be disinterested than continuously frustrated and disappointed. We’d gone through so many sleepless nights trying to create new music, that now the four of us would start arguing every time we tried.
We’d resigned ourselves to the style of the hired songwriters and musicians. But it was about to change. I could feel it.
“I’ve got the taste back, I swear,” I said, excited by the prospect.
Luc and I had said it so often to each other, but we knew not to trust it until we actually had lyrics on paper.
And we did. This time, I knew the tune, I knew the beat, and the lyrics worked. Bevel was a master of the bass. He could pick out the notes first try. Steve would give us a great rhythm on the drums, and Luc and I would craft the tune with our voices and strings.
Luc stepped off the wall and grabbed his guitar. Steve shoved down the last of his burger and wiped his greasy hands on his jeans before grabbing his sticks. Bevel took a moment to realise we were actually doing this, then pulled his bass out from beside the keyboard on the wall and plugged it into the amp next to his chair.
I handed them copies, and we got to work.
Max
We spent all day picking the song apart. Beat, rhythm, timing. We even delved into the meaning behind the words and what we were trying to say with the music. We hadn’t done that since our last decent album, when I was still cut up over Cat leaving. It was four years of beautiful, depressing, heartfelt songs before I emerged from the darkness and the quality took a hit.
It felt like we were kids again. Those simple guys who wanted to start a band and be famous, who kept pushing on with endless shitty gigs and practising until they got noticed. We spent every day together; we created music and worked like maniacs. It was different before, though. Goss was with us.
Bevel had more of a relaxed attitude to life. He was happy with whatever was thrown at him as long as he had his bass, a beer, and some smokes. He looked like a classic bass player: all thick hair, shaggy beard, and leather jackets. At forty-five, he was thirteen years older than us. The label had forced him on us after we kicked Goss out, but he brought a calm to the rest of us that Goss never had. Steve had his family, Luc had his women, and I had my depression. Bevel just wanted to have a good time.
By the end of the session, we all were grinning. We had something solid. A song I’d be happy to record and play on stage. I felt closer to them than I had in years. We were exploring something together, like we used to when we actually gave a shit.
We were putting our instruments away when Luc came up behind me. “Where did that come from?”
I was winding up the loose cords scattered around the room. At his question, I straightened and met his heavy gaze, cables still in hand. “What do you mean?”
“I know how you are. This must have come from something.”
I didn’t want to see how he would react if he found out Cat was involved. Though it was mainly Goss who’d stayed with me after she left, Steve and Luc saw the fallout too. Both of them knew our most popular songs had come from how deeply Cat wrecked me when she threw me away.
“It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
Luc stared at me. He could wait. I’d seen him do this plenty of times, especially to interviewers asking about his family. He would placidly watch them until they were babbling non-stop, so uncomfortable with his powerful stare and the heavy silence they just had to fill it. But I wasn’t falling for it.
I turned my back on him and carried on winding the cables.
“How is Bunny?” Luc’s question could have been innocent, but it felt laced with accusation.
I stiffened briefly but didn’t stop. It was just chat, that was all.
“She’s good.” I kept my focus on the cables.
“What did you do yesterday?” Luc pressed.
They already knew I was signing the prenup. They had a full list of my itinerary. The four of us spent two hours in the boardroom with Bunny’s manager and Carl, discussing how we could work our schedules leading up to the tour.
“Interviews, photoshoots, those kinds of things.” I stood again and faced him. “Why are you asking?”
“No reason.” He inspected his nails, running his tongue over his teeth. There was definitely a reason. Steve and Bevel were listening in from the other side of the room. “Meet anyone interesting?”
I wavered, nerves collecting at the base of my stomach. These weren’t the excited, friendly nerves from the start of the session. I knew he’d caught me.
“Not really. Why?”
