After the release of their first album and the subsequent critical acclaim, the band had moved to LA. Charlie had been in LA for a few years, hopping between various metal and punk bands. He’d joined Bleeding Moonlight and helped write their second album, which most critics considered their best. After that, they’d released two more, the last one being three years ago.
“You sound real good,” Silas told me as I continued my strumming. “The hammer ons during the bridge need a bit of work. Let’s try those again.”
We went over the section again, with Silas showing me how I could make slight modifications to my technique. I was learning a ton from him. He was an excellent guitarist, one of the best of our generation, and a couple of times, when no one was looking I pinched my thigh to reassure myself that I wasn’t dreaming. Of course, I was careful not to show my starstruck awe of him. Of all of them.
“Do you want to hop on some vocals with us?” Silas asked Abel after he deemed my playing close enough to what he was envisioning. “Would be good to hear how it sounds.”
Abel looked like he’d rather nail his hand to the wall. Still, he mustered a curt nod and stood up to plug in the mic that was leaning against the wall.
I was curious to hear him sing in person, to find out if he sounded different from the perfectly edited vocal track on the albums.
Silas and I began playing the song, and then Abel opened his mouth and nearly made me forget what I was doing.
“Scratch your promise into my skin
Tell me all the things I want to hear
Together, we make the sun rise
Over a land cloaked in darkness”
His voice sounded just as good as it did on their albums, but there was a rawness to it that took my breath away.
Silas gave me a knowing look, as if he could tell I was blown away and that it was a common reaction to hearing Abel sing live.
He sang like it was the last thing he was going to do. Long, elegant fingers gripped the mic, and his eyes drifted closed at certain parts of the song. He looked utterly heartbreaking, and I averted my eyes when my pulse began to speed up.
We finished the song and descended into a stunned silence. At least on my part.
Silas nodded thoughtfully. “I liked that.”
I almost laughed at his measured assessment, but I managed to bite my tongue at the last moment to keep quiet. Abel shot me a look and then shrugged at Silas. “Let’s go again.”
We practiced two more times, each one lifting my mood more and more. I was keeping up with them, improving with every repetition. Maybe this was going to work after all.
“Hey, we’re finished,” Ezra said, coming into the room. “We were thinking about getting some lunch before coming back and rehearsing together.”
“Sounds great,” I said, thinking that more food would keep my energy going.
Ezra gave me a warm smile, setting off a traitorous flock of butterflies in my stomach. I was not used to being surrounded by so many good-looking men, and it was as if my libido was punishing me for the two-year dry spell by demanding my attention.
We left the studio and climbed into the SUV, Ezra hopping into the driver’s seat. Their driver didn’t seem pleased when Cole told him he didn’t need to come with us. It seemed like he was part driver, part bodyguard. To me, they looked more than capable of protecting themselves.
My thoughts were only further confirmed when I found myself squished between Silas and Cole in the middle row, their taut biceps pressing against my arms, toned but skinny in comparison.
“You okay? If it’s too tight, we can unload the back and pull up the third row,” Cole offered.
I shook my head. “All good.” I could think of many worse things to be subjected to. “We’re not going far, are we?”
Ezra looked at us from the rearview mirror. “How about Annie’s?”
I grinned at him, “That’s one of my favorites. Her omelets are to die for.”
Annie’s was a diner off the side of the main highway, a bit of a local institution. I hadn’t been in ages, and the thought of having a bite of their spinach and goat cheese omelet made my stomach growl in anticipation.
“We used to go there all the time when we were in high school,” Cole told me. “Crazy to think it’s still around more than a decade later.”
“Things here don’t change much,” I admitted. “The Crooked Stool, the bar I work at, opened in 1991, and it’s still going strong. Coming back here must be like jumping into a time machine for you guys.”
Cole nodded in agreement. “We’ve come back a bunch of times over the years, but never for this long. So we’re definitely taking a walk down memory lane.”
“Hopefully, it’s a pleasant walk,” I offered, wondering if they were enjoying their time back here.
Abel scoffed from the front. “The first thing we did when we got back was bury our friend, so yeah, really pleasant.”
Blood drained from my face. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that—” I began.
“Abel, don’t fucking start,” Ezra’s words were loud and almost drowned out mine. The drummer caught my gaze in the mirror, his face twisted in a grimace. To my right, Cole wore a surprised expression that disappeared as soon as he saw me looking at him. Something told me his surprise had more to do with Ezra’s intervention than what Abel had said.
In the span of a few seconds, the atmosphere in the car changed. I cursed myself for the thoughtless comment. Things had been going well so far. Then again, Abel must know I didn’t mean to make light of their situation, so why had he lashed out like that at me?
Whatever. It seemed like the key was to stay focused on the task at hand and not ask too many personal questions. I could do that. I didn’t need to know them well to do my job.
I cleared my throat, and earned a soft pat on the knee from Silas. “Sorry. It’s been a difficult time for all of us,” the guitarist said.
Abel huffed, but I ignored him. Grief was an intimate friend of mine, and I knew better than to push someone who was still deeply entangled with it.
“Of course. I get it.”
Silas pulled his hand away, and I could sense him turning to look at me, but then we were pulling into the parking lot, and seconds later, I eagerly jumped out of the car.
The diner was busy with lunchtime traffic, but we were able to find a booth at the back that managed to fit all of us. This time, I sat on the edge of the bench, Ezra to the right of me, Cole and Abel in the two corners, and Silas directly across. We placed our orders with a young waitress who didn’t seem to recognize the guys, but she nevertheless gave them appreciative looks. A blush colored her cheeks by the time she left to give our orders to the kitchen.
“So, Adeline, tell us more about yourself,” Ezra said as soon as the waitress was gone. “You said you were born and raised in River Valley? Where did you go to school?”
He smelled like pine up close, but I didn’t think it was cologne. Maybe his detergent or soap? It mixed with another, more subtle, male scent that I couldn’t name, but it made me want to bury my face into his neck and just breathe deeply.
I was a freak.
“Yeah, I’ve lived on Harrows Street my whole life and went to Chestnut High.”
“We lived on the other side of town,” Cole commented.
“You must have gone to Middlemar then?”
“That’s right. How old are you?” the bassist asked, shamelessly trailing his eyes over me.
I raised a brow. “Twenty-one. And you?”
“Fair enough.” He laughed. “I just turned thirty. The rest of the band are around that age. Got siblings?”
“You said you had a younger sister, right?” Ezra chimed in, recalling what I’d told him earlier today. “Cole said she’s going to college soon?”
“Yeah, her name is Molly. She’s going to study business and marketing at Northeastern starting the end of August,” I said.
“You both live with your parents?”
“Here are your drinks,” the waitress said, saving me from answering that question. I didn’t need to get into my life story with a group of men I still wasn’t sure I’d see again after today.
When she left the table, I jumped in to steer the conversation into safer waters. “So you guys want to release the new album this year?”
Cole sipped on his Coke and nodded. “That’s the plan. Now that we’ve found you, we’re hoping we’ll get the recording done soon, and then we can get the hell out of River Valley.”
“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” Abel grit out, his voice low.
Cole shot him an angry look. “Can you not—”
“No, no. That’s okay,” I jumped in. “It’s true. I know you guys might decide against working with me by the end of the day. That’s the whole point of this audition.”
I shifted in my seat, hoping to remove the tension at the table. I wasn’t an idiot. I could see that Cole, Ezra, and Silas were eager to have me onboard, but Abel was a whole other story, and he was the producer. If, at the end of the day, he didn’t like me, his opinion was what mattered most.
Despite what had just come out of my mouth, a cold shiver ran down my spine at the thought of Abel vetoing me. I was enjoying this too much.
“How come you’ve decided to record it back here?” I jumped in again, trying to change the topic. “Must be a downgrade from your usual setup.”
Ezra stirred his water with a straw. “This town was Charlie’s favorite place. After the funeral, we talked for a long time about what we should do with the last songs he wrote. We weren’t even sure we wanted to record them. But then we realized that Charlie would want his songs heard, and he would’ve gotten a kick from recording it here—the same studio where we recorded our first album.”
I gave him a sad smile. I was starting to realize that not getting into personal territory would be difficult. After all, music was personal. When I wrote, I was laying my deepest fears, thoughts, and regrets bare for all to see. These guys were world-class musicians, and they hadn’t gotten to where they were by playing it safe. I knew their music must also be their most sacred truth, and if I was to help them record this album, I might need to wade into the same territory.
Maybe that was a good reason for me to bid them goodbye after today.
“What do you think about the songs we’ve worked on so far?” Ezra asked me. I was picking up that he and Cole were the more outgoing ones in the group. When Silas spoke, he was a blunt instrument, but he spent most of his time listening and paying attention to those around him. And Abel… Well, Abel just seemed to quietly simmer with anger.
“They’re beautiful,” I answered honestly. “Intense yet soothing in some parts, like a lullaby.” I cleared my throat. “Abel, your singing is incredible.”
At this, Abel flicked his gaze to me. The cold expression he wore shifted for just a moment before falling into place again.
“You sing for your band,” Silas observed, and I turned to look at him. “Do you enjoy it more than playing?”
I tapped my fingers against the sweating glass of water. “I like to sing and engage with the audience. It makes me feel like a conductor for the rest of the band in some ways, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find that thrilling. But I’ve been playing guitar for much longer than I’ve sang, and… Well, it’s just different. I feel great when I sing, but I feel high on life when I’m playing guitar.”
“I know the feeling,” he responded, giving me a knowing smile through his beard. I felt like he was undressing me with his intense gaze as I spoke, as if he could peel me apart layer by layer until he could stare directly into my soul.
The food arrived, and we dug in. When we finished, Ezra grabbed the bill, refusing to let me pay for my share, and hustled us back into the car. We picked up where we’d left off, and ran through the two songs about a dozen more times.
“Let’s hear what it sounds like on tape,” Abel said when we were finished, sending me into the sound booth. Silas sat beside him behind the glass, listening to my playing intently and offering suggestions. After a few tries, Silas waved at me to come out, and we gathered the full band to listen to the recording.
As the sound of my playing filled the control room, I had to stifle a smile. It sounded solid, and I couldn’t believe I’d managed to learn the song this well in just a few hours. A lot of that was due to the coaching Silas had so generously provided, and he smiled through his beard when he saw me looking at him.
“Fucking badass,” Cole said after the track ended.
“I really like that,” Ezra agreed, his blue eyes alight with excitement.
I beamed at them despite myself. I couldn’t help but feel a little proud.
“It’s not good enough.” Abel’s words landed like a punch, wiping the smile off my face. The warmth I’d felt from Cole’s and Ezra’s praise disappeared in a heartbeat.
For a second, you could hear a pin drop.
“What do you mean,” Silas bit out. “It sounds great.”
Abel stood, crossed his arms, and faced Silas. He didn’t look at me. “No, it doesn’t. I wrote this song with Charlie. I fucking know how it’s supposed to sound, and I’m telling you it’s not right.”
“Well, why don’t you tell us what needs to be fixed,” Ezra interjected, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. I looked between him and Abel, starting to feel nauseous.
“I can’t fucking spell it out for you,” Abel snapped, spreading his arms wide and still refusing to meet my gaze. “There isn’t an instruction manual for art. She just doesn’t sound like Charlie.”
“Of course not. No two guitarists sound the same,” Silas said, his voice low and tense. “We’re not trying to imitate him. We’re trying to record a good album, and Adeline’s playing sounded damn good to me.”
“It’s. Not. Good. Enough.”
I stood up, clenching my fists when I realized my hands were shaking.
At last, Abel moved his gaze to me. I could see the loathing in his eyes, and that riled me up.
I could understand not being good enough for this. After all, they were professional musicians with a decade-long career behind them. But I couldn’t understand the undeserved anger and animosity this man was projecting toward me for no apparent reason.
I took a step toward him, and whatever he saw in my expression must have startled him, because he took a step back.
“Were you always such a dick, or am I just really good at bringing out that side of you?”
Someone sucked in a loud breath behind me. Abel’s gaze flitted over me, as if unsure of where to land.
“Honestly, I don’t need to listen to this. This is your album. You can record it however and with whomever you like. But if this is how you’re going to interact with people who audition for you, I won’t be surprised if it never gets made.”
I spun on my heel to face the rest of the guys, who were looking at me with a mixture of shock and admiration. “For what it’s worth, I had a great time working together today, but it sounds like I’m not what you’re looking for. Thank you for giving me a shot.”
There. I managed to say that without my voice cracking once, and I was going to leave while I still had my dignity. I crossed the small room in two steps and stormed out the door, even as Cole called out my name, asking me to wait.
I was holding it together, but I didn’t know for how much longer I could keep my disappointment at bay, so I had to get out of there. I wasn’t surprised at how it had turned out. Not really. It was the most likely scenario coming to its painful and expected fruition.
“For God’s sake, Adeline, wait.” A hand gripped my biceps as I was nearing the door to the parking lot. With gentle force, Cole turned me to face him.
“What for?” I asked, keeping my eyes fixed on his chest. “The audition didn’t work out. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. I’m so sorry about Abel. He’s just…” Cole trailed off, running his ot
her hand through his hair. “Can we talk outside?”
Since that would get me closer to my car and thus closer to getting away from here, I nodded.
“Look, this has nothing to do with you or your playing,” Cole said once the double doors slammed shut behind us. It was early evening, and the sky was a bright-pink hue. I was too upset to appreciate its beauty.
“Damn it, this is my fault,” he said, rocking on his heels.
I shot him a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“I should have told you more about what’s going on with the album, but I didn’t think it would be important.”
I waited for him to continue, hating to admit that some part of me was curious to know more.
“Abel doesn’t want to record this album. It’s like he wants to guard these songs for his consumption only, which is selfish as hell, if you ask me. Charlie would’ve wanted people to hear them, and Abel knows that, which is the reason he’s reluctantly agreed to do it. But he’s insisted on producing the record and finding a guitarist himself, and as a result, we’ve gotten nowhere in the past few weeks.”
My forehead grew tense as I processed this new information. “Look, if your singer, songwriter, and producer doesn’t want to do this, I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
Cole rubbed at his chin, shaking his head. “If you’d said that to me a week ago, I would have agreed, but then we stumbled on to you. Adeline, he was lying through his teeth back there. You sounded perfect. I was so worried he’d be an asshole to you all day—”
“Which he was,” I interrupted.
“Yes, of course, but it could have been a lot worse.” He cringed. “Sorry, I know how terrible that sounds. I’ve just seen him in all of his moods, and today was far from the worst. When we were rehearsing, I saw his eyes light up. When he forgot that he was supposed to be hating this, he was focused and determined. It reminded me of how he looks when we do well in the studio.”
Taut Strings: A Rock Star Romance (River Valley Rebels) Page 7