Chapter Eighteen
Jackson watched in amazement as the girls nodded their approval of her plan and started discussing the song. Christina and Kaylee stood on opposite sides of the group, but still. They were there and they weren’t fighting.
He walked up to Ridley and laid his hands on her shoulders. “You’re really good at that, you know.”
“What?” She turned in his arms, snuggling against his chest so her head fit right below his chin.
“Calming people down. Cutting through the drama to the heart of the thing. I’m not sure if there’s a name for that but I’d hire you in a heartbeat. Especially since this is the part of the business that I hate, handling different personalities and getting them to all work together.”
“I’ve had a lifetime of dealing with Raina. I consider it on-the-job training.”
“Hey, guys? Sorry to interrupt.”
They turned to see Kaylee standing directly behind them. “The girls and I decided to record first thing tomorrow. I’m not at my best right now and I think if we try to force it we’ll just be wasting your time.”
“I agree. Let’s call it a night everyone,” Jackson said. “I’ll expect you back in the morning, ready to work.”
Ridley waved at each of the girls as they left. After he gathered a few things from a table in the corner, Mac left, too.
“I thought they’d never leave.” Jackson picked up a guitar from a stand in the corner and strummed a few bars. It was a little out of tune. He used to get new song ideas all the time but it had been awhile since he’d played in the office.
“I guess we should go, too. I’m sure the boys will be exhausted.” She looked tired but happy.
“Not yet. There’s something I want to show you first.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door at the back of the room, walking quickly before he could lose his nerve. He pushed it open and walked in. Ridley followed, her eyes wide.
“Wow. It looks just like I imagined it would.”
He could barely contain his excitement as he pointed her to the chair in front of the recording console.
“This is a thirty-two-channel API analog console. I just bought it last year. It’s top of the line. I prefer analog because it just gives a better sound. When I want to hear music, I want to hear the real thing.”
She sat delicately and swiveled toward the desk. “I’m afraid to touch anything. This looks really expensive.”
“Well, yeah, it is. It’s about a hundred grand or so.”
She gaped at him before folding her hands in her lap. “Oh my god. No wonder it looks like the controls of a spaceship. What does all this do?”
“I’m going to show you.” He flipped a few switches. The red light that showed he was recording blinked back at him.
He handed her a pair of earphones. “Here, put these on.”
He couldn’t look at her as he pushed through another door into the recording room. She sat up straighter and watched him through the glass as he set the old guitar down in the middle of the room.
“This was one of my first guitars.” He spoke up slightly even though he knew she could hear him perfectly. Everything in the recording room was being transmitted back to her through the earphones.
She pointed at the earphones in confusion. He ignored her and pulled a short stool from the corner over to the microphone in the middle of the room. After adjusting the microphone, he picked up his guitar and strummed it a few times. He worked his way down the scale, fret by fret, tightening the tuning pegs until it sounded right.
“I bought it at a secondhand shop while I was in college. I have better ones now, of course. Electric ones. Expensive ones. But sometimes when I start hearing the notes of a new song, all I want is to strum bars on this old thing. That’s how I know if the song is any good or not. Truly good music doesn’t need accompaniment or a lot of studio tricks. It hits you right here.” He held his hand over his heart. “Even when it’s just a guy on a stool playing a guitar that’s older than he is.”
She didn’t say anything, just watched him with those huge eyes that saw everything. It was just as well, because he had no idea how to explain what he was about to do. So, he just strummed a few more bars and then began to sing.
Mama always said to me
You’ll know you’ve found the one
When every day seems so short
And you’d give it all up for
Just one more day
Daddy always told me
That love was like a gift
But even gifts come with a price
But I’d pay anything for
Just one more day
For so long I thought I was broken
That I had nothing left inside
Until the day I met you
And all I wanted was
Just one more day
Just one more day with you
My love
Is all I need to survive
One more day
He let the last note fade away before looking up. It was so silent in the room, the only sound his breathing and the fading hum of the guitar strings. Even through the glass, he could tell Ridley had her eyes closed.
He’d made an impulsive decision to play for her but he wasn’t sure what had made him play a song he hadn’t even finished writing. When she’d asked to hear some of his music, he’d originally been planning to play her one of the songs he’d written in the past. Songs that had been on the radio and billboard charts. Songs he had reason to believe a lot of people thought were good.
But when he’d turned around and seen her watching him and realized they were all alone, the song he’d had swimming around in his head for the past week had been the only thing on his mind. In that moment, he’d wanted to share it with her. To show her, in a way that nothing else could, what he was feeling.
It felt like an eternity before she opened her eyes. She let out a small breath and then shook her head. When she didn’t say anything, his heart sank.
* * *