Getting Wet - It's Raining Men

Hawkley took my hand, and we walked together out into the bright Florida sunshine.

“Do you really like Tofu Scramble?”

“Nope. But I love Wren, and it’s one of the few dishes she doesn’t completely butcher and fuck up.”

I smiled and squeezed his hand.

Chapter 7

Hawkley

Dave Stein was expecting us at the studio. I'd sang there before, recorded a few things for commercial use, played guitar on a friend's album.

"S'up, Kestrel?" Dave said as we walked into the studio. Dave was in his early twenties. One of those technical geniuses. He could have worked anywhere in tech or finance if he wanted to, but Dave liked to surf and smoke pot, so he stayed in Spring and built a recording studio. It wasn't like the music scene here was that big, so Dave did other things too, a sort of jack of all trades. He wasn't hurting financially, that was for sure, and he might have been selling weed on the side, for all I knew. He drove a Tesla, wore tie-dye, and had black lights in his living room. But he loved a great rock album as much as I did, and we'd hit it off from day one.

"Dave, this is Allison Carpenter from Columbia. She's here to oversee the recording."

"Dope!" Dave said, shaking Allison's hand. "Welcome to Spring."

"Thanks, this is quite the setup you've got here," she said. Allison walked around the studio, checking it out. She asked Dave a few questions, and it was obvious from their chat that Allison knew her stuff. It was sexy that she was a music executive, sexy as fuck.

"I'm gonna jump in the box and warm up," I told the two of them. They were having an intense conversation about DIY soundproofing.

"Dope!" Dave said. "You want hot tea? Waters are in the mini-fridge. I got a new CBD-infused tea that I'm backing, and I put those in there too. Try one. I've got cases."

"Thanks, Bro. Tea would be great."

"How's Wren? She home? I thought I saw her Beatle the other day."

"Sure is, Dave. Stop by the bar," I told him.

"Wren's cool," Dave said, turning to Allison. She smiled at him.

"Wren is the coolest person I've ever met in my life," she told him.

I closed the door to the box, sat down on the stool in front of the mic, pulled my windbreaker over my head, and tossed it on the bench beside me. I took out beauty from my case and started strumming and humming like I usually did to warm up my pipes.

"Do you want to start with Cannonball like it says here on the card?" Dave asked into the mic from the other side of the soundproof partition.

"Start with Cannonball and go right into Lovely Girl. I think we just need to get two in and then call it."

"Dope," Dave said.

Allison gave me a thumbs up. She looked a little nervous, and I could understand why. What if I was terrible and her whole vision of me came crashing down? But the funny thing was that I didn't feel frightened at all. I felt confident as all get out, and I think it was Allison's presence that was bolstering that shine.

Cannonball was a song about falling and falling hard for the very first time. It was about making a huge splash in someone else's life and then learning to swim with them through the choppy waters of life. I strummed the first few chords and closed my eyes when I began to sing.

I'd written the song about my parents, but today, I was singing it for Ally.

I got lost in the music and felt every single lyric in my chest. The piece showcased my whole range and especially showed off my raspy tenor.

When I strummed the last note, and the timber faded, I slowly opened my eyes. Dave was slow clapping, and Ally had tears in her eyes.

"That was it, Bro. You just nailed it on the first take."

"You sure? I can go back and do the refrain again just for extra takes to play around with."

Dave and Ally both shook their heads in unison. They both had somber looks upon their faces. Nailed it or butchered it? I really could not tell. Then Ally got a tissue out of her bag and started to wipe her eyes and her nose. I gave her a thumbs up with a confused look on my face. She leaned forward into the mic.

"Best fucking demo recording I've ever sat through, Hawk. You just raised the bar higher than you can even imagine."

"Really?" Was she pulling my leg? If I sang my best, it was only because having her there listening did something to the musician in me. Like my creativity had tapped into a new muse, a new reason for being, and sparks were just flying out of me, lighting up the room, my music, my whole life in front of me.