Wright that Got Away, page 19
I closed my eyes and let the opening chords of “Tightrope” roll over me. It was finally coming together. Santi had suggested pulling Viv in on backup vocals for this one, so it had a female voice on the call and response. And it added this perfect blend that I’d never known I was missing. It was what we’d all been missing. And after spending the next couple hours hammering it all out, I felt like it was finally in a place to show people.
“That’s a wrap,” West called through the speakers. He shot me a thumbs-up.
He was right. That was the one.
“Fuck yes,” Santi roared. He jumped to his feet. “I have a crazy idea.”
Yorke sighed. “Surprise, surprise.”
Viv cackled. “You said it, Yorke.”
“Why don’t we come back?”
We all stared at him blankly.
“Come back?” I finally asked.
“Yeah. We’re all going to LA in a week to show the studio what we got and where the album is heading. They’re going to want to keep us in town and finish out the album. We don’t want to get in there and record all six finished songs before we have the rest of them finished. It’d ruin our whole roll.”
He was right. If we didn’t do the entire album in one stretch, we would lose so much momentum. Things were done in an order, and we weren’t ready to get in there and record officially yet. There were still kinks to figure out. Not to mention, a few more songs.
“So, why don’t we go home, do all our meetings, show how kick-ass we are, and then have them send us back here?”
A pin could have dropped as everyone assessed his words.
I didn’t want to say anything. My vote was an obvious yes. Blaire was here. But I never in a million years would have suggested that everyone come back. In fact, I hadn’t suggested they all come here in the first place. So, I wouldn’t hold any sway on this vote.
Viv shrugged. “I talked to Kris last night actually. She was promoted, and she’ll be entirely virtual. She had been talking about coming out this week. I bet she’d come with us if I asked.”
“Excellent,” Santi said. He was twirling his drumstick over and over and over again.
“Sure,” Yorke said with a shrug.
Santi looked to me. “I know you’re in, bro.”
“I am.” But my gaze turned finally to Michael. We all looked at him. “Michael?”
He was staring at us all as if he’d never met us before. It wasn’t surprise on his face. It was actual rage and disbelief and betrayal. Like we’d kicked his puppy or something.
“Are you all out of your fucking minds?” he asked, low and vicious.
“Course not,” Santi said cheerfully. “We just came up with this idea—”
“Oh, you just came up with it.” He laughed, but it had no humor in it. “Don’t bullshit me. You’ve all been talking about this behind my back, haven’t you?”
“This is the first I’m hearing of it,” I told him.
He rolled his eyes at me as pushed away from the keyboard and stood. “You all knew that I wouldn’t want to come back. So, you worked it out together to ambush me. What am I supposed to say to this? You know I don’t want to be here.”
“It’s not an ambush,” Viv said. “Honestly, none of us have talked about this before. And we’re asking you right now.”
“Sure, Viv.”
“I am not lying,” she said.
“Even if you’re not, you’re all ganging up on me. How did you think this would go? I’m not fucking coming back. We’ve spent enough time in this place. Campbell can write his songs in LA, like a normal person.”
“It was just an idea,” Santi began.
“No, let him say what he wants to say,” Viv snapped back.
“Guys,” I said, standing and trying to mediate the volcano that was about to erupt.
“Don’t come to my defense,” Michael roared at me. “This is all your fucking fault.”
“I didn’t ask you to come out here. I had no idea that Bobby hadn’t asked you if you wanted to come. Don’t put all of this on me.”
“Who else should I put it on? You weren’t coming back to LA. We needed to start working on the new album. What the fuck did you think was going to happen? Cause and effect, man.”
“You could have told him no.”
“Contrary to popular belief,” Michael snarled, “no one gives a shit what the rest of us do. Everyone only fucking care about you.”
I staggered back a step at that. “That is not even remotely true.”
“Campbell is right,” Yorke said.
Viv nodded, and Santi looked aghast that he would even suggest it. I was a part of the team. Yes, I was the lead singer, and I wrote the lyrics, and I was the face of the band. But I was not the only one who mattered. If I were, then I would have told Michael to just fall in line. We were standing here, asking him what he thought, and his response was to attack me.
“I see how it is,” Michael said. He was visibly shaking at this point. “You’re just taking his side. Well, fuck you. Fuck this band. Fuck this fucking city. I’m tired of being treated like shit. I quit.”
Then, he wrenched the door open and stomped out.
28
Blaire
“It’s only going to be a week or two,” I told Honey for what felt like the fiftieth time.
I really didn’t have the energy for this conversation. Honey was the best assistant I’d had. Her independent and headstrong energy were what had endeared her to me. I did not have the time or mental capacity for her to be clingy.
“I know. I know.”
“You have nothing to worry about. It’s going to be great.”
I was too drained from that interaction with my mother for it to be anything else. And then I’d actually said that word…that word out loud to Campbell. We’d hedged around it this last month. It had happened. It was our past. His huge error. The thing I’d sworn I’d never forgive him for. And now, here we were.
There was nothing else to discuss really. It was not going to be the same as it had been the first time. No matter what my therapist mother thought about the definition of insanity.
“Blaire?” Honey said, snapping her fingers in my face.
I jerked backward. “What?”
“Did you hear anything I said?”
“Sorry, no. I haven’t been sleeping great.” I shot her a wan smile. “Just excited about the upcoming trip, I guess.”
She frowned. “You’re not feeling well? Are you sure you should be going?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. No worries.”
“Okayyy,” Honey said in disbelief. “You’ll be able to record in LA and get all the stuff with the band. We’ll have so much new content to work with. It’ll be good for the business. I’ll just miss having you around. It’ll be boring without you.”
“It’s not that long,” I said again. Then changed the subject. “So, let’s run through what we need to do this week before I head out.”
She nodded and flipped to a different document when the studio door crashed open. We both whipped around as Michael stormed out of the recording studio. We gaped at him, but he said not one word to us. Just barreled through the front door and was gone.
I jumped to my feet and dashed into the back. “What happened? Is Michael all right?”
Campbell had his hands balled into fists. Viv had her hand over her mouth. Santi’s jaw was dropped. Only Yorke looked the same, but that was probably because he always appeared somber.
“Are you all right?”
Campbell sank into the seat and tugged his guitar over his head. “Michael just quit.”
“What?” I gasped.
Viv nodded when I glanced up at her. “He just lost it.”
“It was my fault,” Santi said. He blew out harshly and then threw his drumsticks at the wall. “Fuck.”
“It’s not your fault,” Campbell said automatically. “You had no idea he would blow up like that by asking a simple question.”
“We knew he was unhappy,” Viv said.
Yorke nodded. “Yep.”
“But not enough to quit the band,” I insisted.
Campbell nodded at me. “Yeah, I never thought he’d be mad enough for that. He’s just…Michael.”
“He is always unhappy,” Viv agreed. “He’s always been that way. I had no idea he was at a tipping point.”
“Me either,” Santi said with a sigh. He ran a hand back through his hair. “What the fuck are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Campbell said.
“Someone should talk to him,” I said.
“I can,” Campbell insisted.
Viv walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I love you, Campbell, but no. He won’t see reason with you about this. I’ll go and talk to him once he’s had a minute to calm down.”
“What do we do in the meantime?” Santi asked. “What if it’s for real? We’re out a keys player. We only have half an album. Fuck.”
“It’ll be fine,” Campbell insisted. He looked like he was going to put his fist through the wall. “Why doesn’t everyone go get some lunch? Then, we can meet here later to discuss what we’re going to do.”
Everyone nodded and slowly filed out of the room. Honey wavered in the doorway with wide eyes, but I shooed her out.
“Hey you,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist.
He pulled me tight against him and kissed my hair. “Blaire, Blaire, Blaire, what have I done?”
“You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s decision.”
“I’d been so wrapped up in us that I didn’t see it.”
“Hey,” I said, tugging his head down to look at me. “You are not responsible for everyone’s feelings. He should have said something before this. He let it fester. It sounds like this will all just blow over, and you will be back to normal.”
“I hope so. I have no fucking clue what to do otherwise.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah.” He and rubbed his eyes. “This is so fucked.”
“We should go get some lunch.”
“I want to, but I need to call Bobby. I need to figure some shit out.”
I nodded. “All right. I’ll go and grab you something and bring it back.”
“That would be great.” A smile cracked the surface. “Thanks, Blaire.”
I kissed him again and then left him to the dreaded phone call. I couldn’t imagine Bobby Rogers was going to enjoy hearing about what had happened.
Weston stood at the door as I exited.
“Uh, how’s he doing?”
I tilted my head away from the door, and he followed me out of earshot. “He’s blaming himself.”
West stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. “I’ve had the pleasure of working with Michael the last month. And let me tell you, that guy does not know how good he has it.”
“They never figure it out until it’s too late.”
He shrugged. “I guess. I feel like I won the fucking lottery, just being in the same room as Campbell. Let alone the entire band.”
“Yeah, but he was there before Campbell. He’s hurting because he’s away from his family and lashing out.”
“True. I still think he’s angling for the grass is greener.” He looked far away, as if remembering all the tours he’d been on, playing backup and dealing with the shit from performers. “It’s not. It’s really, really not.”
“I hope he comes back.”
West nodded. “Me too.”
“Want to come grab some lunch? I’m bringing it back for Campbell.”
“Sure.”
“Hey, Honey, we’re going to head to Market Street. Want to come?”
She flipped her newly dyed hair, which I was still not used to. Like, could she have gotten any closer to my signature look?
“You don’t have to do that. I can go.” She reached for her keys. “I’ll pick something up for everyone.”
“I think Campbell needs a minute,” I admitted, glancing back at the studio.
“Okay. Then, sure.”
We left Campbell alone to deal with Bobby Rogers and the fallout of Michael’s actions. When we returned, the rest of the band had just pulled back up at the studio.
“Did you get ahold of Michael?” I asked Viv as I carried Campbell’s sandwich inside.
She looked grim. “Uh, yeah. He booked the first flight out of town.”
“Oh God.”
“Yeah. He hung up on me after I tried to convince him to stay. And he wouldn’t answer either Santi or Yorke.”
“Damn.”
We stepped inside and found Campbell on the floor of the studio, staring up at the ceiling. Santi flopped right down next to him, and Viv kicked him lightly.
“Yo,” she said.
He looked up at them with a resigned expression. “Hey.”
“We tried to talk to Michael, but he’s leaving Lubbock on the first flight west.”
“Great,” Campbell said.
Campbell had been on such a high since returning to Lubbock that I’d forgotten how utterly far he could crash when things weren’t great. I’d seen him like this in high school after his mom’s death and subsequently every time he tried to write music and it didn’t work out. I didn’t like seeing him like this right now.
“What did Bobby say?” I asked.
“He said he’ll talk to Michael. That I need to give him this week to let it blow over. When we get back to LA, we can reach out again. He thinks Michael will change his mind.”
“I think so, too,” Santi said confidently.
Viv cringed. “Yeah, but let’s be realistic. What if he doesn’t come back?”
Campbell sat up on his elbows and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“We can’t replace him,” Santi said.
“We might have to,” Viv said.
Yorke nodded. “Yep.”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Campbell said. “Michael isn’t gone for good. He could still come back.”
“We need a contingency plan,” Viv argued.
“Why?”
“Because this is our livelihood. We can’t just assume Michael is going to let this blow over. And even if he does, the band might never be the same. We’ve seen this happen with other bands. It won’t be peachy keen after this.”
Campbell wrapped his arms around his knees and looked up at his band. The biggest band in the world right now, collapsing all around him. He looked so lost.
West cleared his throat and took a step forward. “Not to interrupt, but I think it’s a little less black-and-white than this.”
The entire band turned to stare at him then, as if they had forgotten he was even in the room. He flushed at the attention.
“I’ve probably seen more bands fall apart than all of you combined. It was kind of an occupational hazard with what I did in Seattle. A lot of times, the band just continued with one less member, and they’d have someone play backup for the lost member. Honestly, I did that all over the world for the last couple years.” He ran a hand back through his hair, as if to hide that he was shaking, even mentioning it. “I stopped to come to Lubbock with my…brothers. But I already know all of Michael’s parts. In fact, I wrote most of the keys for this album. I can play backup until you figure all of this out.”
Campbell’s stare was solid and heavy. I, for one, knew that it must have been hard for Weston to even offer that, knowing that being in the band meant an entirely different life for himself. But it was brave, and it was the right thing to do.
“Seriously, man?” Santi asked, jumping off the floor and throwing his arms around West.
West laughed. “Yeah, I mean, I can if you want me to.”
Viv arched an eyebrow at Campbell. “It’s an elegant solution until we know more.”
“I say yes,” Yorke conceded.
Campbell got to his feet and held his hand out to West. “Let’s do it.”
“Yeah?” West asked.
Campbell nodded. “You’ll come to LA with us?”
West looked startled, like he hadn’t anticipated that. “Uh, I mean, I can write the music out for someone else to play there if you prefer.”
“No,” Campbell said automatically. “We want you.”
Viv squeezed his arm. Santi bounced, almost like a little kid. Yorke just nodded.
“Well then, yeah, I can do that.”
Viv put her arm around West’s waist. “You have no idea what shit you just got into.”
West laughed. “I think I know you well enough at this point. I’m happy to help.”
Campbell released West’s hand and came over to give me a kiss. Already, the despair in his eyes had evaporated. The sparkle returned as everything knit back together. So fast, like turning on a light switch.
“Where’s that lunch?”
I laughed and tugged him back out of the studio. Campbell was all back to himself, but I knew LA was going to be very interesting.
Part V
Gold-Plated
29
Blaire
“You didn’t have to drive us,” I told Hollin as he lugged my two giant suitcases to his truck.
“I know, but Campbell said he was going to store the Rover and then hire a driver to take y’all.” He shot Campbell a look. “Pretentious shit.”
“Hey, I was just trying to make it easier on everyone.”
“What? You think I don’t want to drive the Rover while you’re gone?”
Campbell rolled his eyes. “Have at it.”
“Well, I appreciate it, Hollin.” I bowed under the weight of my backpack, full of recording equipment and all my work stuff.
Campbell reached out for it. “Let me get that.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile.
My boho bag fell to the crook of my elbow, and I hitched it back up. I had half a dozen other bags inside of it, my iPad, and a spicy romance novel I’d borrowed from Piper. Still, I was sure that I was forgetting something.
“I didn’t bring enough hats,” I told Campbell, tugging on the Blaire Blush baseball cap on my head.
