Shape of My Life
Page 12
The guys and I had been working on music to go with Brook’s lyrics for a few weeks. And when they weren’t working with me, I was trying to piece it together. It had taken a lot longer than I had anticipated to actually sit down and make music. We spent a long time going through the pages of her notebook and figuring out which songs were best suited for us. Most of Brook’s lyrics were dark, brooding even, which was perfect for a rock band, but even the sappy ones she had written down were fucking great too.
We finally ended up just starting at the beginning of her notebook and decided we’d work our way in. I saw Brook continue to write, though, so I knew we’d never make a real dent in her work. It seemed we couldn’t pump out music fast enough to keep up with her writing. It actually made me fucking happy. I loved that we had this passion for music in common. It made me feel like less of an asshole for taking her away from her life and implanting her on this tour. Like maybe it was all worth it for her because she discovered something about herself she hadn’t known existed.
Life on the road was hectic and definitely not glamorous. We were on the bus often, and when we weren’t, we were rehearsing or performing. There was the occasional party or interview. There were periods when we stopped and rested, and even a few days here and there when we got to sleep in a real bed at some hotel if we played multiple shows at the same venue. Either way you spun it, we somehow made good progress on a new album thanks to Brook.
Everyone seemed pleased with the way it was coming along. I noticed Brooklyn would get this shy smile whenever she heard her words against the backdrop of our music. Damn if I didn’t puff up with pride that she approved.
“Take me to midnight where the stars are shining brightly. Take me to midnight, I’ll go without a fight … fight … fight,” I sang quietly but purposefully, trying desperately to get the right note on the last word of the chorus. “Fight,” I sang again while strumming the guitar.
“How about this?” Gavin asked as he played a few chords on his bass guitar.
Trevor was staring at the rest of the lyrics while Cody tapped his drumsticks absentmindedly on the small table in front of him.
“I’ll go without a fight,” I sang again, but it still didn’t sound right.
“Not feeling it,” Trevor added.
“Me neither,” I admitted.
“Maybe we can take a break from this one. Let’s start with a different song, clear our heads, and it’ll come to you then,” Cody said, still tapping his drumsticks on the table.
“I’d hate to stop this in the middle,” I responded but knew he was probably right. “Give me a few more minutes. If I can’t figure it out, then we’ll move on and come back,” I conceded. “From the top,” I said.
We played the first verse and then got to the chorus, “Take me to midnight where the stars are shining brightly. Take me to midnight; I’ll go without a fight … without a fight.”
“Not bad.” I heard Brook’s voice break through our session. She had been at the market getting some supplies with Clark while we were at a rest stop, and it looked like she had just gotten back, or rather, she was back and already putting groceries away while we had been playing. Everyone’s heads turned toward her. Apparently, I hadn’t been the only one not to notice she was back.
“Hey, guys,” she said to everyone, and they responded with a collective, “Hey, Brook.” My response was to get up and give her a kiss. “When’d you get back?” I asked.
“Just a minute or so ago. Just in time to hear you play,” she added. “Play the chorus again for me?” she asked. How could I deny her when she asked so sweetly? I nodded and took a couple of steps back to the table where we had been sitting. We played the chorus again, and we still got stuck on the last note. I could hear her hum the chorus softly with us as she put the last of the food away.
“Yeah, not bad at all, but if you switch up the F-sharp and C-sharp on the last two notes, I think it will work,” she said. “And maybe drag out the ‘fight’ with two quick beats,” she added as she nodded her head.
I knew I froze in complete surprise, and I was sure that the guys’ expressions mirrored my own. Brook didn’t seem to notice as she passed by us and went to the room.
I looked at the guys and nodded. We played the chorus again, following Brook’s advice. “I’ll go without a fi-ight.” I sang the last word as if it were two.
“Damn, that’s perfect,” Trevor stated the obvious.
“Gren?” Gavin said my name like a question. I knew what he was asking. Where did that come from? Hell if I knew, but Brook had been spot-on.
“I said it before, and I’m saying it again,” Cody started. “I’m stealing your woman.” Then he chuckled, and I was spared from kicking his ass.
“Be right back,” I told them as I headed toward the room.
I found Brooklyn writing in her notebook, her nose scrunched up, her forehead creased in thought. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was finding new revelations about her every day.
“How’d you know that?” I asked her, and she looked up, finally realizing I was in the room with her.
“How’d I know what?” she asked.
“How’d you know what notes would work well with the song?”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, confusion in her eyes.
“Just now, Brooklyn. You suggested different notes for the chorus we were working on, and it was perfect.”
“I did?” she asked.
“Yeah!” I responded, more than a bit baffled.
“Huh. I guess I did,” she replied. “I’m not sure, Grennan.” She looked at me, and I could see she was just as puzzled as I was. “I had some lyrics in my head I wanted to jot down. I was really focused on the words so I wouldn’t forget them while I was putting groceries away. I didn’t even realize I did that. But I guess I’m starting to get an ear for music, thanks to you.”
“I guess,” I responded, but I knew I sounded skeptical.
“I mean a reader doesn’t need to know how to write to know what sounds good on paper. So I guess a listener can hear what sounds good to the ear too.”
“And you knew the notes.” It was a statement.
“I listen to you day in and day out. I’m bound to learn a few things.”
It made sense, but damn, was I impressed. She was like a sponge, soaking up things it took others years to acquire. She clearly had a natural talent that had never been explored.
“Brooklyn, you seriously amaze me.”
That brought a huge smile to her lips. “Back at you, Grennan,” she told me. “Now, shoo so I can finish writing this. And you have a song to finish.”
I laughed, gave her a kiss, and went back to work. I told the guys what she had said, and they were impressed at how quickly she was picking things up too.
“I might be joking about stealing her,” Cody told me. “That’s only because I love you, man. But that girl’s golden. You’d better keep her.”
“I will.” And I meant it. She was mine. I’d never let her go.
Grennan
When I told Brook that she amazed me, I wasn’t kidding. She was remarkable, but what was even more remarkable were her divine hidden talents. It looked like having her come on tour with us was the right thing for more than just our relationship. She—and I—were uncovering parts of her we didn’t know existed.
It wasn’t just the songwriting; it wasn’t even just the ability to pick up on the right musical notes or a key tune. I heard her humming tunes all the time. She was one of those people that if you said something that reminded her of a song, she’d hum the song for the next hour. It was always done softly, under her breath even, but you could see a faint smile and watch her head nodding to the beat in her head. Fuck, I loved her. Sometimes, she hummed something we’d heard on the radio, but more often than not, she’d hum one of our songs. I especially liked when she did that.
When I caught her writing lyrics while humming a song, it hadn’t surprised me. I had
watched her for a few minutes. I did this pretty often. I was a fool in love, and she was the cure for my idiocy. I knew if the guys saw me, they’d give me shit—and rightfully so—but I didn’t care. I loved staring at Brooklyn making music. Naturally, I thought she was humming as an offhanded distraction. It wasn’t until she stopped, then started again, then hummed from a different point, then added a few very, very faint words between that I realized she was humming a tune designed specifically for whatever lyrics she was working on.
After her little display with the chorus the other day, I shouldn’t have been surprised. But I was. I didn’t know why I thought it was any different, but somehow, one or two key notes seemed dissimilar from working on an entire song.
Brook was so absorbed that she didn’t even realize I was spying on her; she never did. I listened to her complete the song and then hum it from the finish with a pleased smile on her lips. The tune was a little more upbeat than what we were used to—it’s not that it wasn’t good—but it sounded so familiar, almost like I’d heard it before. It was like a feeling of déjà vu. Somehow, that made the entire situation a little more believable. In my mind, I was justifying my surprise by realizing Brook must have heard a tune somewhere, and it helped spark this one. I should have been able to fathom that she came up with it all on her own, but I just couldn’t.
“Oh, Grennan.” She gasped after realizing I was in the room.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, but I couldn’t help but listen to you,” I admitted.
“Huh?” she asked.
“I swear I could physically see the lyrics floating through your mind as you hummed.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “It was nothing. I’m sure you and the guys can come up with a better tune. It was just something that seemed to stick.”
“It sounded familiar,” I told her.
“I don’t think I’ve heard it before, but maybe.” She shrugged. “Either way, it was nothing.”
“It was sexy,” I told her. “Watching you work your magic. I love watching you write … and hum, and now … I got to see you do both. You plus music is hot.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “You think anything about me is hot.”
“True.” I smirked. “But this was especially hot. I think I might need to listen again, but let’s try a different tune. Say one that involves the words ‘oh, Grennan’? Maybe we can throw in an ‘oh, God’ or ‘harder’ or pretty much anything you usually say during sex,” I said with a sly smile.
“You fiend,” she teased.
“For you, always.” And then I did get her to sing a different song … several songs. Yeah, I was good like that.
As far as her musical abilities went, you’d think that would have been the cherry on the icing, right? Not even close.
We were stopped in … hell, I don’t even remember where we were stopped anymore. Life on the road was a blur of one city bleeding into the next. It was a wonder I got the names right when I went on stage and did my usual, “Hello,
She usually had about an hour or so of guy-free time, but that day, we had finished up early. I all but raced back to the bus. I admit it; I was trying to catch her while she was still in the shower. I had full intentions of doing a very thorough check of her body to make sure she was clean, then I’d make her dirty, and then I’d clean her myself. What can I say? She made me insatiable.
I was about two steps in when I heard it. I would have sworn it was the radio, but that would have been impossible, considering I was hearing the chorus to our first single aptly named after the band, The Rising Sun, but it wasn’t my voice singing it, or more importantly, it wasn’t even a man’s voice. It was feminine but powerful; it was loud and clear. It was overpowering and full of emotion; it was easy, natural.
There were two “good” voices. There were the ones that when belted out, you could actually hear the person pushing the voice out of their body, physically expelling it. Those were good, don’t get me wrong, but it sounded like it was coming from the lungs or even the throat instead of the diaphragm. The second kind was the one where it sounded as if the person was doing nothing more than talking with melody. It sounded as if the song was literally a part of them; the high notes just an extension of their voice. Personally, I preferred that voice, although both were, as I said, good.
I called the second voice the effortless voice. That was what I was hearing.
I stopped dead in my tracks and listened as I heard my song sung better than even I could. “You are the rising sun. You are where I belong. I need you in my arms. To carry me along. You are the rising sun. I’ve looked for you so long. Stay with me now. Because you’re where I belong.” I had just sung it myself less than an hour ago. It was the closing song for that night’s concert.
The lyrics hadn’t been exactly what you’d expect when thinking of a rock band, but it worked. Sure, they were cheesy, but it had been the first song I wrote, and I had Jourdan on my mind. I was hoping I’d sing it for her one day, and she’d melt at how fucking awesome I had become. It was a little surreal to listen to Brooklyn sing words meant for someone else, but it was wholly appropriate for her. I had penned them for a fantasy back then, but now, I had reality, and reality was so much better. Those words were no longer Jourdan’s; they were Brooklyn’s wholeheartedly.
I know I probably looked like a crazy person when I barged into the bathroom. “You can sing.” It wasn’t a question or an accusation. It was a statement, a fact.
After screaming so loud I’m sure the police station down the street heard her, she calmed down enough to say, “Grennan, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Brooklyn, you can sing.”
“I … what?”
“You. Can. Sing.” I punctuated each word. “What the fuck?”
“No way.” She shook her head vigorously. “I can’t sing. That’s why I don’t do it in public. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Are you okay?” She wrinkled her brow. I was most definitely not okay. Although the fact that I was standing with the bathroom door half-open, I was clothed, the water was spraying on me and I didn’t care, and I was staring at Brook as if she had grown an extra pair of boobs was probably what she was referring to. What? You’d think I would stare at her like she had grown a pair of horns? No way. I was in complete and utter shock, but the good kind, like if instead of Brooklyn having two perfect globes for me to fondle and suck, she magically had an extra set. Shit, I’d figure out how to use my hands and feet for that.
“Who the hell told you that you couldn’t sing?” I asked.
“What do you mean? It’s a fact.”
“Who filled your head with those lies?” I asked her.
“No one. I can just hear myself,” she told me.
“You’re obviously not hearing what I’m hearing. Brooklyn, you can fucking sing like a goddamn boss.”
“Uh … what’s that mean?” She scrunched her nose, and I broke from my confused tension and laughed.
“Damn, you really don’t know? You have an incredible voice. How the hell you could even think it was bad is beyond me. It’s fucking marvelous. Sing for me,” I commanded.
“I can’t,” she responded shyly.
“I’m not asking,” I told her. She hesitated, so I added, “Please.” She nodded and sang the chorus for me again, and I swear I creamed my pants like a fucking virgin teenager.
“Fuck, Brooklyn, I don’t even have the words.”
“I think you just think everything about me is good. It’s the love talking,” she told me.
“No, no. You have an unbelievable voice.” I stripped off my clothes, got in the small shower with her, cupped her chin, and forced
her eyes to look directly into mine. This time, it wasn’t with my trademark teasing tone when I told her, “Don’t worry, Brooklyn, I’ll get you to believe your voice is astounding.”
Then I had my way with her. And then I might have convinced her to sing for the guys when she was satiated, who sat there with their jaws wide open.
“Holy shit,” Trevor said.
“Wow,” Gavin responded.
“Fuck,” ever-the-eloquent Cody added.
Needless to say, I was sure, with the help of my guys, I got Brook to believe she could at least carry a tune.
Brooklyn
“You’re here!” I might have screamed a little too loudly, but I was excited. Cassidy was visiting again. This time, it wasn’t a surprise but a planned trip. It didn’t make me any less giddy when she stepped into the arena right before the guys were about to rehearse. I would have picked her up, but Grennan was overprotective when it came to letting me venture out on my own in a strange city, and he couldn’t come with me since the guys had to rehearse. I told him Clark could come with me, but he pointed out that Clark was needed to help.
Don’t think I didn’t try to get my way; I even tempted him with my body, but that backfired because the smartass asked, “You’re not going to pick up Cass by yourself, right?”
“Please,” I moaned, pushing my hips into his, but the bastard wouldn’t budge.
“You want to come?” he asked.
“Yes!” I screamed and dug my nails into his arms.
“Then you’re going to listen to me, Brooklyn. I’ll send a car for Cassidy.”
“Yes, God, whatever you want, just keep moving.”
He didn’t even try to hide the smug smile that played on his lips.
“Have your boy send a limo for me each time I arrive, and I’ll be here more often.” Cassidy laughed as she hugged me.
“You got it.” I chuckled. She was only staying with us for four days this time, not even a full week, but she said it was a busy season for her. Most of the time, she worked with stores directly, and sometimes, she worked with personal assistants to the stars, but during the busy season, she actually got to meet some famous people. She never seemed fazed by it, though. She had obviously gotten used to it. That was also probably why she hadn’t fangirled as the guys expected her to when she met them.