“I don’t know,” I hear him answer since she’s not wearing her headphones. She has all the sound pipped through the room so I can hear it too. Very cool and classy move if you ask me since I am no one but the assistant and I’m sure my thoughts and input aren’t warranted or appreciate “I don’t mean to. It’s just where my fingers naturally go on the frets. Where the words are sort of leading me.”
“No, I like it,” Lyric tells him. “I think it works better than what you had before.”
“So, what if we did it like this?” Keith suggests, tapping something out on his drums, and a half-beat later Gus chimes in his with electric guitar only to be quickly followed by Henry on the bass. Jasper is just kind of standing there, staring at Gus, his acoustic hanging around his neck and dangling at his stomach while he listens.
I had no idea this was how music was made.
I guess I never quite gave it much consideration before, but it’s such a process to get one line of music down and have it match the lyrics. The main aspect of the song seems to be coming from Keith and Gus. They’ve been going back and forth with each other, writing things down on paper and toying with different arrangements. Henry seems like an accessory, though he’s an insanely talented one. He picks up everything they’re doing instantly adding a depth to the sound that really brings it to life.
Jasper is obviously the words and he appears to enjoy stepping back and letting Keith and Gus do their thing. They have a science. A very specific way of crafting their art.
It’s astounding and beautiful to watch, especially as a fan.
And before I know what I’m doing, I stand up, take my work phone out of my purse and snap a picture of them. Then I go into their band’s Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter accounts and post the pic with the caption: Are you ready? We’ve got something extra special we’re working on for you! #ComingSoon #WildMinds #InTheStudio
This is my first official time posting for them, as them, and I hope this one goes well. I was told nothing personal. No pictures of Jasper’s children or Viola. If they want something like that posted, they’ll do it themselves. I was told the same with regards to Naomi Kent. Henry and Keith both said they didn’t care as long as it wasn’t personal or embarrassing.
“Do you know what I hate?” Lyric asks out of nowhere, and it takes me a long couple of seconds to realize she’s talking to me.
“What do you hate?” I retort after she swivels in her chair to face me. Lyric is adorable. She’s petite, blonde, and perky. Even for a tough as nails record producer and executive. She’s also wearing bubblegum pink, so I think that only drives that home further.
“When brilliant artists feel the need to throw on an extra song to their nearly finished album and the new song is so good that I can’t even argue putting it off for the next one.”
I laugh a little at that, because I agree. I mean, about the brilliant artists and amazing new song. “It’s beautiful. I haven’t heard the other tracks yet, but I’m really loving this one and it’s not even close to done.”
“No.” She sighs. “It’s not. It’s going to be a long day. Why did Keith drag you here just to have you sit?”
Good question.
“I don’t think he likes leaving me alone for too long. He either thinks I’m going to rob him blind or views me as a helpless damsel in distress.” I hold up my broken arm. “I haven’t figured out which yet.”
“Or maybe he just likes having you around.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me and after that kiss in the elevator, I blush. Again. Because that seems to be all I do when it comes to the man. So lame.
“I doubt that. I’m more of a pain in his ass than anything else. But you know, you’ve all been at this for a while. I’m going to run out and grab a bunch of sandwiches and things. What do you like to eat?”
Isn’t that what Keith told me to do? Feed them when they’re deep into their work?
“Burritos, girl. Bring in burritos and these boys will work all afternoon and I’ll be forever in your debt. There is this yummy place on the corner that I can never remember the name of, but I think it has viva in it. Anyway, here’s what they like.”
She writes everything down for me and I scurry out, following her directions and quickly finding the restaurant. And as I wait for our order to be ready, I scroll through the band’s social media. The post I just created already has over three thousand likes on both Facebook and Instagram respectively as well as a number of excited comments and a bunch of shares.
They have nearly a hundred and twenty million followers—talk about mind blown—but their postings have been sporadic and a bit lackluster. Mostly album covers and tour and release dates. Nothing personal about the band or its members.
I’m hardly on social media myself, and I’ll be the first to admit, I’m a novice. But I think I can do better than what they had going.
Fans want to connect with their favorite bands. Not just musically but on a personal level. We like to feel we’re connected. Part of the inner sanctum.
Even if we’re actually not.
A surge of excitement rushes through me for more than the band I’m working for or the paycheck. I think I could love this job, grunt errands included. Doing this makes me feel real and acknowledged and giddy and freaking out of my mind with… that pulls me up short. Like big time.
Messing around with your boss is a no-go. Like rule one in that playbook. Keith Dawson caliber life rule even.
And yet I kissed him.
And he kissed me back.
But it’s not like it’s going to happen again. It was an impulse move. Nothing more.
So why does that leave a sour taste in my mouth?
I quickly brush all that away. I need to focus on my new job. I need to focus on healing. I need to focus on paying off all the debt in my name. Eight months till financial freedom.
That’s given me a high like nothing else.
An inner grit and fortitude to keep surging forward.
Keith and I talked about how I wanted to return to school, and he said he was all for that. He said he thought it was fantastic, and that if I continued with this job, which he hoped I would if I enjoy it, then the band would make sure I have the time in my schedule for that.
To earn the salary I’m earning and be able to go to school would be a dream.
Which means no distractions.
Entering the studio, I find the guys standing in the lounge area with Lyric. Sweat glistens their foreheads and sticks to their shirts as they wipe themselves down with towels and drop haggardly onto the sofas. “I bring sustenance,” I tell them, holding up the bags of food with my good hand.
Keith frowns. “You shouldn’t have carried all that back yourself.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Slow your roll there, Doc Brown. I have two hands. Obviously.” I hold the bags up again right before I set them down on the large square coffee table.
“Did you just Doc Brown me? You do realize he was not a medical doctor?”
“Sort of forgot that part, but I was blanking on film-based doctors at that second. I’ll work on my zippy comebacks. How’s that?”
He grunts, but I think I catch a hint of a smirk. Or maybe that’s just me. Still, it’s not awkward or weird between us after what happened in the elevator. We’re back to us, which is obviously awesome. Perfect, in fact.