Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Campbell sighed as he stared down at his phone. “I should have brought Blaire with me.”
“Probably,” I agreed.
“I mean…we’ve been trying…” He trailed off.
My eyebrows rose. “Fuck, man. Seriously?”
Campbell shot me a sheepish look. “Yeah. We want to get pregnant right away. I want a kid with her so bad, man. And well, she’s fertile this week. Like, what are the fucking chances?”
I shrugged. I wanted kids. I knew that unprotected sex got you children. But I hadn’t ever considered more than that. Definitely not fertility windows. “Why didn’t you bring her?”
“She said she had Blaire Blush stuff planned.”
Blaire was the owner of her own wellness blog. Over the holidays, she’d been on the Today show, talking about her advice column and wellness programs. She’d gone on a speaking tour for a few weeks after that, out there promoting her work. Her company had bloomed after her affiliation with Campbell, and we all loved to see how much success she had.
“Unfortunate. But fuck, I’m so happy for you, man. You’re trying to have a kid. That’s so adult of you.”
Campbell snorted. “Yeah. Sometimes, I think, what the hell do I know about being a parent? My childhood was just two adults constantly yelling at each other.”
“Yeah, but you’re not your parents. You and Blaire love each other. You’ll make great parents.”
He smiled down at his phone. “Thanks, West.”
I nodded at him. “It’s the truth.”
The car pulled up in front of the production studio headquarters, and we were ushered inside. Waiting for us outside of the studio was none other than the Cosmere manager, Bobby Rogers.
He held his arms out and smiled fondly at Campbell. “You’re back! Good to see you, kid.”
Campbell groaned. “Stop calling me kid, Bobby.”
Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. “Always good to have the talent back in the building.”
“We can hear you,” Viv said. She appeared at his shoulder, rolling her big brown eyes. She brushed her bubblegum-pink hair out of her eyes and pulled Campbell into a hug and then me. “Hey, you.”
“Good to see you,” I told her. Viv was the bass player. Behind her was Santi, who played drums, and Yorke, on guitar.
“Just ignore him,” Santi said boisterously. He hit Campbell’s knuckles and then tipped his head at me. “We’re glad you’re home.”
Home. LA wasn’t home. I didn’t know what was home anymore. Seattle had always been home, but now, only Mom was there. It was strange to think that Lubbock had become home in such a short period of time.
“Yo,” Yorke said, as monosyllabic as Santi was animated.
“So, this new song,” Bobby said. He arched an eyebrow at the pair of us.
“Shut it, Bobby,” Campbell groaned. “Let me go play it for you.”
“We listened to the demo,” Santi said. “It needs a solid drumbeat.”
“Obviously.”
“But the keys are the spotlight,” Bobby said, looking to me. “That your doing?”
I shrugged. “Campbell wanted keys. I delivered.”
“Yeah. I wanted it to be keys heavy. I needed something that felt like it pulled you forward.”
But I was still looking at Bobby. He’d been wary of me since I’d helped put the album together. As if at any moment, I was going to demand my fair share of the profits. The studio and I had worked out a payment schedule, as if I were recording as a backup. They wanted to cover their ass so that I didn’t sue. Even though I had no intention of doing any of that. I’d get paid for what I deserved, but I wasn’t a member of the band. And I didn’t need their manager to glare at me to try to make me remember. I felt that every day of my life.
“Maybe we could talk to Michael to get him in on this one,” Bobby suggested.
“No,” Campbell barked at once. Michael was their old keyboardist, but he’d ditched the band right before this album to spend more time with his family. “West will do it.”
“Yeah, Bobby,” Viv said with a wink. “We have West.”
“I do miss Michael sometimes though,” Santi said with a sigh.
“Before he turned into a wet blanket,” Yorke said.
Everyone burst into laughter at that and agreed. The tension dissolved as only Yorke could pull off.
We were all rushed into the studio. I sat down at the keys. My mind was blissfully blank as the notes rushed up at me. Campbell’s smooth voice took up the first verse. Then, it was a frenzy as I blew through the intricate melody I’d come up with. It was a sweeping song, and while maybe not my favorite on the new album, it was the best keys track.
We spent the next couple hours working on everyone else’s pieces. It was grueling work but also my favorite part of the process. It was when the song went from an idea to reality.
We stumbled out of the studio late and drifted into the nearest nightclub. We’d been regulars here the last six months. I’d been schooled on all the things that I’d taught Nora Abbey about flirting and dating. I had no interest in any of that tonight.