The Songwriter

by Jensen, A. P.

“You missed your mark!”

  “Where’s your mic?”

  This was officially the longest three days of her life. It was eight at night and they were the only ones still in the building which was becoming a habit Gwen wasn’t fond of. She scarfed down two sandwiches that Angie had ever so helpfully dropped off so she wouldn’t leave the building. Trey suspected Gwen might not come back and he was right.

  Gwen scrolled through her messages and saw a taunting picture from Natasha of her view of the ocean from her hotel room in Bora Bora. Bitch. Gwen struggled every day to walk onto this stage and be criticized and shoved out of her comfort zone because Natasha was throwing a bitch fit. Gwen furiously typed a nasty message and her finger hovered over the send button but Natasha was her biggest client and she didn’t want to burn bridges… Gwen glared at Trey as he talked on his cell. This might just be the best reason of all. If it wasn’t for Natasha’s selfish diva antics she wouldn’t be in this situation. She erased the text and fantasized about taking a picture onstage during a concert. She would stand in the middle of the stage with her hair blowing back, confident and defiant and she would send that picture to Natasha who thought she couldn’t sing.

  Trey hung up his phone. “Okay, let’s do Touch Me.”

  Gwen got to her feet and took the microphone which was actually beginning to feel comfortable in her hands. On the first and second day, she tried to step off the stage whenever she took a break but Trey put a stop to that. He made her spend at least eight to ten hours on the stage and she was finally beginning to feel as comfortable here as she was in her apartment in New York. She now knew the dimensions of the stage with her eyes closed which would be valuable when she walked on when the lights were off. She was so far out of her comfort zone that she had an anxiety attack every morning and had to be forced into the warehouse, which is why Trey was staying at the same hotel as her and dogging her every step. She didn’t appreciate it because they were followed by paparazzi.

  Trey was taking over her life and she kept wondering how she got herself into this mess. He came to her hotel room every morning with coffee and chattered easily while she tried to delay going to the warehouse. He would hustle her into the car and they would rehearse until her head began to pound and she resented her own songs. He would drive her back to the hotel, see her to her door and begin the ritual the next day. He never got angry and was her own personal cheerleader/motivator. It was both touching and irritating at the same time.

  Trey faced her across the stage. He was coming into a beard that she actually thought looked good on him. Despite the late hours and dozens of other things he had to take care of on top of coaching her, he looked surprisingly alert. She knew why. Trey lived for this and it gave him boundless energy that she envied. She took a deep breath and began to sing.

  Your touch makes me feel invincible

  Your touch makes me see the stars

  You touch can make me do anything

  “Walk,” he commanded.

  She kept her face relaxed when she wanted to stick her tongue at him and strolled in her sneakers to the edge of the stage and stepped on her marker.

  I just wish

  you didn’t see me as a friend

  Your platonic touch

  kills me with each brush of your hand

  She nearly jumped when he came up behind her and ran his hand down the whole length of her arm. Her eyes went wide and she saw a devilish glint in his eye but he didn’t smile.

  What I’d give

  for you to touch me

  Just once, look at me and see

  the woman who’s been waiting

  Touch me the way I’ve dreamed

  Touch me

  “Invite me,” he said.

  Gwen blinked. “What?”

  “You want me to touch you.”

  She almost dropped her mic. “No. I don’t.”

  He grabbed her arms and squeezed. They were both tired and Trey’s blood pressure must be dangerously high though he didn’t show it.

  “This isn’t just a song, Gwen. It’s a story about you and me. Each song we sing is about us. I want you to look at me and I want to see in your eyes that you want me to touch you. We’re not selling the song, we’re selling each other and people have to believe it. Got it?”

  She nodded.

  “Right. From the top.”

  She began the song again and he stopped her halfway through.

  “I’m not feeling it Gwen. I need more. You’re holding back. You wrote this song. I shouldn’t be explaining how you should feel when you sing it.”

  She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes for a minute. It was late. She wanted her bed at the hotel and she wanted to be alone, but she knew Trey wasn’t trying to frustrate her… it was what the fans expected. She had to learn she couldn’t always have the quiet she needed to center herself. She needed to learn to reach for the right emotion at a moment’s notice.

  Trey watched Gwen for two minutes without saying a word. She had circles under her eyes and he felt like a bastard for pushing her so hard, but they didn’t have time and he knew she could do it. She could sing through a whole song perfectly if it was just them, but put her with an audience and her stage fright came back full force. On top of that, they still had to work onstage presence. Some people were born with it but Trey was convinced it could be taught. It was part confidence, part vulnerability-bearing yourself emotionally to the world. For Gwen, who liked being in the background, it would be a huge stretch for her. When she opened her eyes, he was relieved to see that Gwen’s eyes were fathomless and soft. He wasn’t sure who she was thinking about; but, when she opened her mouth to sing, the words vibrated with emotion and the hairs on his arms stood up.

  What I’d give

  for you to touch me

  Just once, look at me and see

  the woman who’s been waiting

  Touch me the way I’ve dreamed

  Touch me

  Trey wasn’t even aware that he took a step forward until he had his hands on her. She didn’t move back from him. She rested her hand on his chest. He sucked in a breath as she leaned into him and continued to sing, seducing every fiber in him. When she stopped, it was his turn to realize he’d forgotten his lines.

  “That was good,” he said and his voice was lower than normal. “I think we should call it a night.”

  Gwen nodded and set the mic down and grabbed her bag. “I don’t know how you do this.”

  “I love it.”

  She sighed. “I know you do, but you’re stripping down in front of millions and they can reject you.”

  “Or love you,” he said with a smile as he put an arm around her and they walked out of the warehouse.

  “You have a huge ego,” she muttered as she got into the passenger side of his SUV. “Am I improving at all?”

  He glanced at her as he drove. “You’re getting better. We just have to get our act down. I want people to believe it.”

  She knew why he wanted it to be believable but it made her wary. When she put her walls down and sang Touch Me to Trey, it affected her. Was it because she was an amateur that when she sang to him, the emotion was honest? She felt so strange. Maybe exhaustion caused her to drop her emotional boundaries, allowing her to sing the song with the vulnerability and desire she wrote it with. Translating her emotions into song stripped her, but singing it to Trey and remembering why she wrote the song was devastating. How did other singer/songwriters do it? Was this why Trey and Natasha kept being drawn back to one another? The intimacy of stripping yourself and singing to Trey across the stage, trusting him to keep you safe when you made eye contact was a bond not easily broken.

  “What happened with Natasha?”

  He didn’t answer for a minute and then, “The picture of us fighting in that restaurant was on the cover of every magazine two weeks ago.”

  “It sure was.”

  She didn’t mention the fact that The Duet was on most magazines daily. Trey
and Natasha were the power couple people couldn’t get enough of. Natasha played it up for all it was worth, whether it was a forced PDA or blowing up at Trey or some other poor soul to show how much of a diva-bitch she was.

  “Natasha is obsessed with her image. She’s upping her costs for appearances, collaborations, concerts, everything! She wants more money, more fame.”

  “How much more can she have?”

  He snorted. “She wants it all and I’ve tried to keep the peace between us for work but I can’t anymore. I kept making excuses not to be in the same city as her. When we started planning the tour, she wanted more money than ever and she wanted everything done her way. I’m the headline for this tour, not her, but everyone expects us together when I go on tour.”

  His hands tightened on the wheel and she patted his arm sympathetically. “I know.”

  “Well, you know how she is. I took her out to lunch and she was a bitch to everybody. I cut line right there. She threw her cocktail in my face, slapped me and walked out.”

  Gwen blew out a breath. “That’s Natasha alright.”

  She could feel his agitation and temper and wished she hadn’t brought it up.

  “I don’t know why I stayed with her so long. We make great music together, but I lost my love for music because of business and I want to go back to enjoying it. I stayed with Natasha for the fans and money. I can’t do anything about her fans and I don’t need the money, so why stay in a relationship I don’t want to be in?”

  He parked the car a little more abruptly than was needed. They got out of the car and Gwen put her arm around him as they walked into the hotel.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re not with her and I’m glad you’re doing this because you want to, not because you have to,” she said.

  “Yeah, having you come on tour is part of doing what I want and Angie supports me. People are going to bitch but that’s okay. I make my own rules and you’re going to blow everybody out of the water.”

  She tried to smile when her stomach pitched. “Sure. I don’t know how this is going to pan out but for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.”

  His eyes moved over her face. “I think so too.”

  He stopped in front of her hotel room and she tried to shake off the odd feelings in the air. It was making her nervous and she didn’t need that with Trey. She kissed his cheek and unlocked her door.

  “Gwen?”

  She looked back. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t you look pretty,” Barbie gushed as she finished Gwen’s hair.

  Gwen stood in front of a full length mirror and smoothed her hands over the beautiful, dreamy gown she was trying on. She had four songs and two wardrobe changes. Gwen had to admit, she loved the dress and she liked the way Cassie and Barbie did her hair and makeup.

  Angie eyed her up and down critically. Because she had no manager, Angie took it upon herself to help Gwen create an image for herself. It didn’t help that Angie and Gwen were on opposite ends of the spectrum on fashion, taste and personality.

  “I think it’s drab. She’s not a teenage starlet,” Angie said, tapping a neon heel.

  “Well, I’m not going to wear a bikini like Natasha,” Gwen said defensively.

  Angie shrugged as she smoked a cigarette. “She knew how to make an entrance, I’ll give her that.”

  Gwen’s phone chimed and she glanced at the screen and rolled her eyes and texted Trey: 5 more min.

  “Trey wants her comfortable,” Barbie said in Gwen’s defense.

  It was clear that all three women thought the dress was pretty but not concert worthy. Gwen just wanted to be comfortable and the dress length, although old-fashioned, suited her better.

  “I don’t know how Trey manages to pull this stuff off,” Cassie chattered. “I mean, you’ve never sang in public and now you’re lead singer on the Trey Phoenix tour.”

  Gwen’s stomach dipped. “Please don’t say it like that. It makes me want to throw up.”

  Cassie laughed and hugged her. “I’m not trying to make you nervous. Trey knows what he’s doing by changing the songs and having you replace Natasha. Here I was thinking we had to find someone just like her and Trey finds you. Bizarre, huh?”

  “Gwen!” Trey pounded on the door.

  Gwen bared her teeth and shouted, “What did my text say? I said five minutes!”

  “I hear you guys gossiping and we have to practice.”

  Angie gave her a disapproving look that she ignored. Angie had no problem ordering others around but she deferred to Trey in everything, Gwen didn’t care if Trey was a big shot superstar. He was demanding, relentless and worked her to the bone. She wasn’t shopping for earrings, she was trying on her wardrobe for the tour and he was barging in! Gwen strode to the door and yanked it open.

  “If you think I’m going to let you order me around for the next six months, you better think again!”

  Trey’s eyes swept over her and she stiffened when their eyes met. She’d never seen that look on his face before. When he didn’t talk but continued to look her over like a Porsche, she shoved him backwards and marched down the hallway because she was short of breath. Maybe the gown was too tight.

  “You want to practice? Let’s go,” she said over her shoulder.

  Gwen swept on the stage and didn’t want to admit that the dress and makeup made her feel like a real singer. She and Trey rehearsed eight to ten hours a day and it was taking a toll on her. Trey told her where to walk onstage, how to interact with the crowd, how to pause in the song for emphasis and so on. Gwen could only thank her lucky stars that she knew the songs already because there was no way anyone else could learn the songs and memorize everything Trey drilled into her.

  “You look phenomenal,” Trey said when he joined her.

  She arched a brow. “I know. Let’s do this.”

  Gwen walked over to the piano and began to play Release the Dream. Trey leaned against the piano. She met his eyes because she didn’t want to be a coward. She felt more comfortable with an instrument between them and from the glint in his eye, he was well aware of what she was doing and why. The time they were forced to spend together was enjoyable, but it stretched her nerves to the breaking point. She knew something changed between them but neither acknowledged it out loud. Every day the tension between them grew.

  Trey walked behind her and put his hands on her shoulders and Gwen made sure not to jerk away. He was getting her accustomed to his touch so when they performed it would feel casual and comfortable. Trey was a great performer and part of that was the way he interacted with the women he sang with. Every woman in the audience would die for him to stroke their cheek and look into her eyes as he sang. Gwen ignored the impulse to lean back. He was so close behind her she could feel warmth radiating from him. She made sure to keep her back rigidly straight. Trey was her friend. Platonic. Just a regular guy…

  Trey stepped beside her and held out a hand, telling her without words to step away from the piano. She grasped a mic and again had that sense of being put on display naked. Trey saw her nerves even though she tried to hide them.

  “It’s just us,” he said. “Just sing it to me.”

  She lost herself in the brilliant blue of his eyes. His hand clutched her free one and he swung their hands playfully as if they were children rather than adults in their prime. Once more, Gwen couldn’t believe she was here with him. Trey’s charisma was so overwhelming that she was continually drawn to him like she had been at eighteen. As a teen, she had adored him with everything in her and he had treated her like a child. Trey was older than her by only five years but he was already jaded by the industry and wasn’t interested in a young teenager who thought she was in love with him.

  As Gwen’s mind drifted, her voice became more confident and pronounced. She broke eye contact and released his hand. She made sure she walked around the stage and did the right stops and passes. She didn’t want to look like such an obvious amateur. Sh
e knew that Natasha would have spies reporting every last thing to her. Over the past week, Gwen found something in her burgeoning since she stepped onstage and held her own against Trey. Pride. When she forgot that she wasn’t a singer and this wasn’t some horrible misunderstanding, she let her voice go and that was when she saw people’s mouths go slack in surprise. The crew stopped their duties to listen, watch and clap. It happened often enough for her to realize her voice was unique and had the power to affect people. Gwen ended Release the Dream with a mock pose in the center of the stage and Trey chuckled.

  “Very nice. You get better by the day,” he said.

  She shrugged. “It just clicked in my head that these are my songs and I want them sung well.”

  “Good. They’re great songs.”

  She nodded and took a sip of water and walked over to the piano and ran her hand over the keys because she couldn’t help herself. Since she’d gone into the songwriting business, she was never far from instruments and she could turn a gloomy day into a song about fighting inner demons. She didn’t want to take her profession for granted so she wrote every day. She worked on the music or lyrics for ten or so different songs that were a work in progress. Between those songs were collaborations with other songwriters or singers. She lived a busy life where she planned her own schedule and spent time in other cities for several weeks, but she always came home to her apartment in New York… her haven where she closed out the world and lost herself in emotion and music.

  “Who are the songs about?”

  Her pleasant feelings disappeared. A cold ball of dread and shame collected in her stomach.

  “Is it a secret?”

  Her smile was strained. “Kind of.”

  He wagged his brows. “You never tell me about your love life.”

  “Isn’t not that exciting.”

  Trey ran the lyrics through his mind. “The guy sounds like an ass.”

  “He’s just a guy.”

  He whistled and sat on the piano bench and pulled her down beside him. “Let’s not get into a fight about relationships.”