I feel a tear fall onto my cheek and I wipe it away in the hope no one sees.
I dash from the room before Hollis is done singing. I need to collect myself.
My feet carry me to the break room and I search for anything I can busy myself with but there’s nothing. Not even the counters need cleaning. I never expected to be affected by a song in such a way. Music has always spoken to my soul, sure, but never like that. In the studio, magic is being woven. I’m sure of it.
“Did you not like the song?”
At the sound of Hollis’s voice, I whirl around and face him.
I swallow thickly. I want to tell him I hated it, that I thought it was ridiculous, but I can’t lie. It was too perfect, too beautiful, for me to lie.
“No,” I say, my voice no more than a whisper. “It was the most b
eautiful song I’ve ever heard. It wasn’t what I was expecting.”
Hollis smiles. It’s a genuine smile and it makes him look younger, more boyish. The light shines on his hair, showing honey and chestnut tones interspersed with the brown. It’s unique.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“It was truly amazing,” I admit. “You should be proud. I see why my dad wanted to sign you guys.” Giving him a compliment is … difficult. I still don’t like him. It’s easy to see he’s a cocky womanizer, but talent is talent.
He turns and walks away, back to the studio, and I stand there for a moment longer replaying the song in my head, the lyrics, his voice, letting it seep into me where it will stay forever.
4
Hollis
It shouldn’t fill me with so much joy that she liked our song, but it does. I have the feeling Mia Hayes is a hard person to win over and she loved our song. She thinks no one saw, but even from the booth, I saw the single tear she wiped away.
For me, I’ve always hoped to move someone with my music. Yeah, I’ve enjoyed the perks of women throwing themselves at me, the parties, the booze—but at the end of the day, in my heart, the music is all that matters. It comes first, always.
I step back into the studio listening as Hayes replays what we’ve recorded today and goes over what needs to be redone tomorrow. All in all, I can tell he’s pleased.
“I think this single will be ready sooner than I anticipated,” he admits. “If you guys are as on as you were today this album might be ready for a release next year.”
I try not to show my shock. It’s September. If it released next year … well, it’s more than we ever hoped for. I can’t seem to wrap my brain around it. We’ve worked years to get here, to sign with someone we admire and trust, to put out a real and true album and now the dream we’ve been working toward might be realized in a matter of months.
It’s almost too much.
“Fuck yeah,” Rush cries, high-fiving all of us.
Mia slips back into the room, I don’t even see her but I feel her. It irks me the way my body reacts to her, how I sense her. I don’t know her, and most of our few encounters have been far from pleasant, and yet I seek her out. I saw her leave the room and I had to go after her. I had to know what she thought of the song even if I already knew. I wanted to see if she’d be honest or lie. But she couldn’t lie, and I know why, because music is as much a part of her as it is me, and when you eat, sleep, and breathe music you can’t deny when it’s good. For some strange reason it makes me fucking proud. Out of all the people in the word, Mia Hayes was moved by our song.
We work for a few more hours, starting the base track for another song while we’re on a roll, with plans to fine tune both tomorrow. Mia stays in the room as much as possible, only leaving when she needs to get someone coffee or something to eat.
By the time we all head out and Hayes is locking up, it’s dark.
The guys and I walked here this morning since the studio is only a block from our hotel, but as they head on I linger in the darkened shadows, hoping Hayes leaves before Mia. When I see the Range Rover pull out of the lot I head for the back and nearly get run over by a little red car.
The window rolls down and Mia screams, “Are you crazy?”
“Possibly,” I admit.
I move to her open window and cross my arms as I bend to lean inside.
“What do you want?” she asks. She doesn’t sound irritated, only tired.
“We got off on the wrong foot. I thought maybe we could start over. I’m Hollis.” I stick my hand out to her with a grin.