“Please.” She blushed and smiled. Blushed. She did. “I insist that you call me Yardley. I know that we all have a professional relationship here, but I need to know you’re comfortable enough in these rooms to call me by my name.”
“Well, Yardley,” I entered, "thank you for this opportunity. The studio here is great. I’m looking forward to recording more.”
Yardley took a quick breath as if she’d just remembered what she’d intended to say all along. “Bo and Ember, you two only have two more songs left to record to complete the album.”
“Nice!” Regan exclaimed as he put his hands on our shoulders.
“What I’d like to do is break early for lunch, and give some listeners an opportunity to watch you record them live this afternoon. We won’t be releasing any of the sound bites or videos until closer to the album release date, which will be mid-April.” Yardley pulled out her phone and scrolled through the calendar.
“Why not until then?” I questioned.
Yardley smiled with drive in her eyes. “We want to keep you relevant, but don’t want to do the push until the album release and close to the tour date so the fans don’t tire of you before they’ve heard your body of work. It’ll go fast, I promise. You can head up to the second floor. There’s a conference room there with lunch waiting for all of you.” She winked and walked briskly from the room, leaving the door open behind her.
“When’s your album out?” I asked Regan as we all packed away our instruments.
He looked up to the ceiling for a moment. “A week or two after yours, I think.”
“How’s it sounding?”
Regan’s broad smile gave it away. “Awesome. We have some instrumental-only songs in there that are to die for. We have four more to record before it’s sent to production. We’ll be here until we finish, which should only take a couple of days."
Bo was chatting up Chris and Shaughn as we all made our way upstairs to the conference room. Regan and I continued catching up. I asked about Georgia, and his face lit up. While it was hard to be away, he said, they’d recognized their stints apart wouldn’t end any time soon and they’d better get used to it. Georgia was working on training and hiring a slew of people just for the summer so she would be able to take longer stints away from the bakery and meet up with him on tour.
“I miss her,” I said through a mouthful of vegan spring rolls. “It sucks that we won’t see each other until the summer, but with everything going on at the house and with the album, I don’t see an opportunity to get out there any time soon.”
“Oh, right, the house! Bo told me about some of the stuff you’re doing. It sounds great.” He paused and looked down at his hands for a moment before continuing. “Are you going to do all the bedrooms, too?”
I knew what he was really asking. Would Rae’s room be remodeled.
I nodded slightly. “We’re taking our time with those, though. Bo had our room done, and we need to do the master bath, then we’ll slowly work our way down the hallway. We’re not actively using the rooms right now, so it’s not as urgent as the rest of the house.”
As I spoke, my voice trailed off. Of course we’d need to use one of the bedrooms as a nursery. Bo and I hadn’t discussed how we wanted to handle that yet, though we’d have to with Tyler eventually.
“You okay?” Regan asked. “You got all weird and quiet for a second there.”
I plastered on my everything’s fine smile and waved my hand. “You’re the weird one. Just tired, I think.”
Regan shrugged and chewed his food while he talked with Bo.
During the rest of the meal, I had an opportunity to talk with Chris from Celtic Summer. He was a Minnesota native who looked nothing like the Midwest stereotypes. His upbringing, though, was exactly that. Two parents—who were happily married—a sister, and a dog. He was on the debate team in high school, and in the glee club. Things got saucy when he left for school as a political science major, and came home having dropped out and started his own band.
“How’d your parents take that?” I asked, almost nervously.
Chris moved his head from side to side. “They’ve … taken things better before.”
The whole table broke into laughter.
“Man,” I cut in, “my parents probably would have killed for me to drop out and sing.”
With the little bit of space I’d had from my parents, and being in the company of people with different upbringings, I could appreciate the passion for life my parents held.
Really, all they wanted was for me to be happy, which is why they didn’t throw a fit when I’d insisted on attending college or moving halfway across the country. That they let me grow into my own person said more about them than it would have had they forced me one way or the other.
Yardley came into the room as we were finishing our lunches.
“Okay,” she smiled, “we’ve got ten listeners from a flash giveaway on our website from over the weekend. They’re ready in the listening room now. Bo and Ember, since you played last, do you want to go first, as you’re most warmed up?”
Bo and I shrugged as I answered, “Sure.”
“Great. Regan, Chris, and Shaughn, you three can get your instruments and head down to Studio B, where you can warm up some, or just relax.” Yardley turned on her heels as she got a phone call, and exited the room.
“Well, good luck.” Chris winked and smiled as he shook both my hand and Bo’s.
“Knock ‘em dead,” Regan encouraged as we all made our way for the stairs.
Bo and I were in the lead as we casually descended the steps. My pace, and voice, picked up as I reached the bottom third and saw Willow standing at the reception desk, talking with Brielle.
“Willow! What the hell!” I ran over to her and pulled her into the tightest hug I’d given her since we were in high school.
“What the hell me? What the hell you!” she squealed as she hugged me back.
While we never really settled into sisterly roles while I was on the road over the past year, seeing her in Grounded Sound made me want to make that a priority.
“I’ve missed you.” My eyes watered slightly as I pulled back and studied her.
She’d taken out her braids and trimmed her hair. It sat a few inches below her shoulders and was a soft bed of wild curls.
Willow pointed to her head. “Crazy hair, right? I needed a break from the braids.”
“No, I think it’s fabulous. Total boho-chic.” We laughed harder than people around us may have considered necessary for that remark.
In eight grade, Willow and I were wandering through a shopping center when the manager of a clothing store chased us down and complimented us for our “trendy” boho-chic look. We thanked him, not knowing what the hell he was talking about, since we were both wearing clothes we’d had for years.
We then looked around and realized that girls who looked like they were definitely cheerleaders and the most popular girls at their schools were dressed just like us. To us, it was just how we were. I appreciate that story more now than I did then, because it was the realization of how different I was from the rest of society that spearheaded my desire to move across the country and attend a normal high school.
“Did I miss your session? And, why are you teary? It’s just me.” Willow flicked her eyes up, then back to mine, instructing me to look to the ceiling as she quickly ran her pinky under my eyes. I felt like she knew. She looked at me like she knew, but I wasn’t about to spill it all over the studio.
“You didn’t miss it. We recorded some earlier, but we’re headed back in now. We have an audience. I’m just really happy to see you.” I shrugged and put my arm around her as we walked toward Studio A.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” I continued.
“Well, of course not. I wanted it to be a surprise. I’ve been learning some sound engineer stuff, and Yardley has let me practice a bit with Celtic Summer. They’re patient.” She arched her eyebrow and smiled. It was
rare to see Willow admit she was struggling at something. That was certainly a trait we shared.
“Regan didn’t tell me either!” I whipped around and caught a glimpse of his face just as he turned for the stairs to Studio B. He smiled and winked as he disappeared.
“Brat,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Uh, hi?” Bo called from behind. I’d completely forgotten that he was there, as I’d gotten wrapped up in Willow.
We giggled like the little girls we’d always been to each other.
“Sorry, hon.” I cleared my throat.
“Willow,” he nodded with a sparkling smile, “good to see you.” They hugged briefly and I got goosebumps at how different things were from just over a year ago when I would have taken her out for looking at—let alone touching—Bo.
Bo and I entered the studio, and I noticed Beckett was in the control room again, which filled me with ease. Bo seemed relieved to have him back behind the controls as well as he nodded and waved to him through the glass. While each sound engineer technically had the same job, they each have a different ear and a specific relationship with each client. It was important for Grounded Sound that all of their engineers could work collaboratively on projects, maintaining the consistency of sound.
Willow gave me a quick peck on the cheek before she slipped into the control room and took her seat next to Beckett.
I took a look in the listening room and saw ten people aged eighteen to thirty. A well-crafted listening demographic, which highlighted the tactical marketing on Grounded Sound’s website. There were a mix of genders and races, but one thing was common: they were all excited to see us. Smiles and waves and claps put a smile on my face as Bo and I settled onto our stools and placed our headphones over our heads.
Yardley entered the recording room and motioned for Beckett to turn on the mic she pointed to.
“Thank you all for coming,” she spoke to the hipster and hippie group that was assembled. “You’ll get to hear Bo and Ember perform one of the songs—of their choice—already recorded for the album, and one that they’ll record live. At the end of the session, there will be a ten-minute break while Celtic Summer sets up, and then you’ll listen to them. Anyone caught using their cell phones will be asked to leave. Let’s all have a great afternoon of listening to hot, fresh music.”
Yardley waved again to Beckett, who clicked her mic off for her. Then, she addressed us.
“Tom is our media guy. You might see him milling between the listening room and the recording room. There are cameras hardwired into the studios to cut down on bulk, but he’ll just be checking the sound, and such, as you warm up. Take a few minutes to do that, and then start with that ballad you played earlier, "Crimson Minute." “
When she left, I turned to Bo and nodded to the listening room. We heard the click of our mics being turned on and I smiled into mine.
“Thank you all for being here. We’re excited to share with you what we’ve been working on. "Crimson Minute" is a piece Bo and I worked on over the summer.” I looked at Bo, encouraging him to speak.
“Thanks, love,” he started. While we couldn’t hear what was happening in the listening room, I could see the love-struck smiles on the faces of the women in the room. “It’s been a pleasure recording this album with my wife, and we’re ready to share some of it with you. It’s kind of a peek into our relationship.”
With that, the girls all nearly melted. Bo tried to hide his grin, but it was impossible. We counted together and took off with our love story, as told through music.
Bo
Ember and I had the next day off. Regan, and the rest of his group were scheduled to work pretty late into the day in order to lay a few more tracks before we had another listening session. We spent the day touring around New York, and Ember made sure to purchase at least one “super cute” baby item for Josh and Monica at each store we entered. I cut her off at Dior. I don’t know who he is, but babies don’t need a $175 onesie.
Do they?
She refused to buy things for our baby, saying she didn’t want to have to explain away a whole hoard of things, should anyone happen to come to our room and see everything. She acknowledged it was far-fetched, but she wasn’t taking any chances on this secret.
We picked up some sushi at a trendy “must go to” place, and brought it back to the hotel. I never understood how vegetarians like Ember enjoyed sushi places—since she was the kind of vegetarian who didn’t eat fish—but she said her California rolls worked out since pregnant women weren’t supposed to have sushi anyway.
“Today was so much fun!” Ember announced as she plunked onto the bed with her sushi and chopsticks. “Yesterday, too. It’s great recording at the house—don’t get me wrong. But, there was a hell of an energy at the studio, don’t you think?”
I nodded as I sat next to her. “There was. It really felt like we were the real thing, didn’t it?”
Ember agreed with a mouth full of California roll. “It was like … we’re … doing it.”
While we’d recorded and performed with The Six, I knew what she meant. We were on our own, so to speak, and part of something that was growing fast.
“I hope Regan’s band knocks out a bunch of songs today so we can all spend some time together tonight. I’ve missed him and Willow like crazy.” Ember expertly manipulated her chopsticks as we devoured the high-priced—but worth it—sushi.
She was sexy even when she ate. Her mouth was at the center of my desire for her most of the time. The way she kissed, the way she sang, talked, and even ate. Her lips were perfectly pouty enough to make me want to kiss them, without overpowering her face.
The power in her face came from those eyes. She was tired, as evidenced by the greying circles beneath them. It had been a long few days … or weeks. But their color never dulled. I’d seen her angry, sad, happy, and loving, and the fierceness in the jade color was always enough to stop me in my tracks.
“What are you looking at? Bo? Hello?” Ember waved a soy-soaked chopstick in front of my face.
“Just you. You’re incredible, you know that?” I bit my lip and returned to my avocado roll. My time with the counterculture clan had broadened my palette considerably.
Ember sighed and stared at me for a few seconds. I always felt naked when she did that, like her eyes were giving her more information about me than any of her other senses combined could do. You have to be careful about women with great eyes. They always see more than you bargained for.
“Oh,” she snapped out of her hypnotic trance on my face, “after the session today I noticed about three hundred emails from Tyler.”
She jumped out of bed and dug her phone from her bag. Though I hadn’t ever told her, I thoroughly appreciated that she never had her phone glued to her side. For as serious as she could sometimes be, at least she was always present.
“Sweet,” I murmured through my last piece of sushi. “What’s going on there?”
Ember’s eyes widened as she handed me the phone. “The wall’s down.” Her tone was excited but guarded.
“I knew the wall was coming down, Em. You don’t need to tiptoe around it. I’m just glad they did it before the snow fell.”
“That’s exactly what Tyler said. He said they wanted to get it down and closed in before the first snow. I wouldn’t have ever considered that.”
I shrugged. “Some things you’ve got to leave to the men.”
Ember’s face turned gravely serious as she snatched her phone back. “Did you just fucking say that?”
I burst into laughter. “Did you just really believe me?”
“You’re such a shit!” Ember tossed her phone on the table next to the bed and tackled me backward until I was underneath her. “Not much of a quarterback, are you?”
“That’s a sack!” I laughed as I rolled her underneath me. “Not fair! Where are my linemen?”
“Oh good,” she giggled, “I was right. The quarterback shouldn’t be tackled.”
I
shook my head and playfully bit her lip. “You better study up on football. You’re going to parent a legacy one of these days.”
“Who says he’s going to play football?” Ember sat up on her elbows. “What if he wants to, I don’t know, play the banjo and work for Greenpeace? And, what if he is a she?”
I kissed her on the tip of her nose. “He can do both. Wouldn’t you say I’m a bit of a hybrid myself?” I ignored the thought of potentially fathering a girl. Girls terrified me.
“Only as much as I am,” she challenged.
Suddenly she took a deep breath and her face paled as she drew her eyebrows in.
“What’s wrong?” I backed up, sitting on my heels in front of her as she shifted to a seated position.
“Shit.” She threw her hand over her mouth and sped to the bathroom where, a few seconds later, it was clear what was wrong.
I walked to the threshold of the bathroom as Ember crouched on her knees in front of the toilet. “You okay?”
“Get out!” she shrieked. “I’m not a pretty puker.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ember, no one is a pr—”
“Out!” She pointed her finger toward the door as she heaved.
Walking from the room, I closed the door behind me and poured her a glass of bottled water. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the toilet to flush, signaling her return to the room. When she came out, her hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and her mascara was smudged across the apples of her cheeks.
“Here.” I patted the space next to me on the bed. “Think you can stomach some water?”
Ember took a few deep breaths as she sat down and took the glass from me. “And here I thought I’d escaped the morning sickness.”
“Ugh. I’m sorry, love.” I walked to the bathroom and wet a washcloth, handing it to her as I sat back down.
“It’s like as soon as I finished eating it, it came back up. Though trying to wrestle with you right after eating probably wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had…” Ember cautiously sipped the water and wiped under her eyes with the cool washcloth.
Bo & Ember Page 15