“First off, no. Taylor is on her own level of greatness. Like honestly, I don’t know of many people that could top her. Not even you.”
My face stayed even because I agreed with her.
Brooklyn tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked away as the next words fell from her lips. “If I were to start writing right now, I’d start by writing down everything I was feeling in the moment.” I said nothing and that must have provoked her, because she raised her eyes to mine. More silence. I watched as her big eyes turned into little slits. “So right now, I’d write words like… agitated…annoyed…worried, etc.”
I snorted under my breath and shook my head.
“So, go ahead, Reid. Your turn. What am I making you feel? And don’t hold back.” She shook her head. “Not that you’d spare my feelings anyway. Apparently, to you I’m a teenaged, crappy, no-experience songwriter that has no business helping someone like you.”
I clenched my jaw tight. So she may have heard my earlier conversation with Carissa when I’d called again, bitching about this entire ordeal, but whatever. I gave zero shits.
I leveled her with a stare, unfazed by her statement. “I said it earlier, and I’ll say it again. I don’t use women as muses, Brooklyn. And I couldn’t care less that you heard what I said to Carissa.”
She nodded. “Oh, trust me, Reid. I know you don’t care. That’s your problem.”
“What?” I asked, my voice almost a growl.
“You don’t care. That’s exactly why you can’t write shit.”
My blood ran cold. “Excuse me?” Who the fuck does she think she is?
Brooklyn stood up and placed her shoes back on her feet, purposefully slow. She walked over to the small kitchen area and pulled open three drawers before she found what she wanted. Was she really going to make food right now? Suddenly, she turned around after grabbing a spoon and walked over to me sitting at the table. I hitched an eyebrow.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Reid King.” She bent down to my level, and I had to do everything in my power to stay still. Her scent wafted around me, and I swore it smelled like the sunflowers on her dress were real. “You and your rude, snarky remarks won’t drive me away. I’m not here to sugarcoat things for you. If you write shitty music, I’ll tell you, and do you want to know why?”
I didn’t answer her. Instead, I was focusing on not losing my ever-loving shit.
“It’s because you and your king-of-music reputation doesn’t affect me. I’m not here to impress you; I’m here to help you—whether you feel you need it or not, because you do. I know very well that you can write incredible music. You know you can write incredible music. I’m just here to help you get back to that.”
My mouth flew open, but before I could get a word out, Brooklyn slammed the spoon down on the table beside my notebook, the metal sound ricocheting throughout the tour bus. I was too confused to even speak. Why is there a fucking spoon sitting beside my hand right now?
“I need this shit to work, okay?” I drug my eyes up to hers. The green hue might as well have been red, because they were blazing with a fierceness I didn’t see before. “You need this shit to work, too. Now…look at this spoon and write down what it makes you feel. I’m going to get food. Consider this my icebreaker, because as soon as you’re done tomorrow night and you get some rest, we’re getting to work. I’d rather us come out of this little ordeal on top, wouldn’t you?”
Then she turned on her heel, her dark hair swaying behind her sunshine yellow dress, and she walked off the tour bus.
I stared at the door then gazed down at the spoon.
Sighing, I pulled it in front of me.
Kudos to Carissa for finding the one person on this Earth that isn’t intimidated by my shit.
Fuck!
Chapter Six
Brooklyn
Shutting the door to the small bathroom that I was now sharing with five men, I pulled my phone out in front of me and smiled as I pushed Accept.
“Hey! I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday. I wanted to see how it was traveling to Cali? How is the retreat?”
I smiled at my sister’s shining face through my screen. “The retreat is great so far,” I lied, feeling a tad bit guilty.
Cara nodded. She looked good today. It was still surreal to see her looking healthy and radiant, even if I knew the stress was eating her alive. “That’s great! What are you even doing there? What does a teacher’s retreat even entail? And how long will you be gone?”
I swallowed, trying to remember what I’d made up when I told my family I was going to be gone for a while on this bogus teacher’s retreat. “Um… a few months. I’ll be back in time for school to start. We do all sorts of stuff… learn new ways to teach.” I started to get clammy with all the lies that were beginning to pile up. “Hey, is Katie asleep? I wanna see her cute little face.” Distraction at its finest.
Cara smiled, carrying the phone over to where Katie was. “Here she is.” Cara started to move the camera down to Katie who was coloring like the perfect little three-year-old genius that she was but quickly pulled the camera back up to her own face. “Wait… where are you? Why is there a weird wooden door behind your head? Surely, you’re staying in a nice hotel, right? Didn’t the school send you on this retreat? Did they set you up in some roach-infested hotel?”