We were a week away from returning to LA and only had about half an album. I had been working on new songs, but none of them were ready. At least we had a solid six with “The One That Got Away” as a strong seventh spot. It still wasn’t finished. I’d finally agreed to let the band hear the chorus and bridge I’d sung to Blaire. They’d all been pissed at me for not playing it for them earlier. But seven songs wasn’t an album. So, we were going to have to return home with a lot more work to do than I’d planned.
And Blaire had been…out of it the last couple days.
“You sure you’re okay?”
She glanced up at me from where she was seated with her laptop open. She was waiting for Honey to show up to the studio. She was going to work from here today while she recorded a few new videos and set up her calendar for when she was in LA with me. “Yeah. I’m fine. You can stop asking.”
But something wasn’t quite right. She was still in my bed every night, but I could tell that something was bothering her.
I dropped into the seat next to her. “You know you can tell me anything.”
She nodded. Then, with a heavy sigh, she took my hand. “I went and talked to my mom about us. She just upset me.”
“What did she say?” I asked, already getting defensive for her.
“Nothing that matters.”
“Blaire…”
“She just…she was there for me when I was…” She bit her lip and said the word neither of us had spoken, “Pregnant.”
“Oh.”
“She’s not a great mom, but she was in that one instance. And you were…”
“Gone.”
I kissed her fingers and mournfully looked up at her. “If I could change how it all happened, you know that I would. I’d go back in time and not be an utter jackass that night.”
“I know,” she whispered. “She just pushes all of my buttons.”
“Yeah, I get that. My dad is the same way.”
She nodded. “So, I’m in my own feels about it. Don’t worry about it. It’ll pass.” She drew me in for a kiss. “And you need to stop beating yourself up about the album.”
“I’m not beating myself up. I just thought I’d have all the songs ready.”
“You have seven songs. A month ago, you had zero. I think it’s okay to give yourself at least another month for the rest of the songs to come to you.”
She was right, of course. But I’d always worked in manic fits, and a part of me was worried that I’d already lost mine. It sounded ridiculous because that wasn’t how it worked every time. That didn’t mean my brain would listen when I told it that I’d figure it all out.
“All right. Sure. We still need to get ‘Tightrope’ just right anyway.”
“You’ll get it.” She turned back to her laptop. That far, distant look in her eyes again. Fuck. I hated that. “When is everyone else showing up?”
I glanced down at my phone. “Should be any minute. West is getting everything set up.”
And as if summoned, the rest of the band strode into the studio. Viv with a pointed yawn. Santi practically skipped in, clapping me on the back and offering a chipper, “Good morning.” Yorke said not a word, and Michael was on his phone.
“Tell Virginia I said hi,” I called to him.
He flipped me off and kept walking.
I chuckled. Viv smacked a kiss on my cheek.
“You ready to go, bro?” Santi asked. He bounced from foot to foot.
“Yeah. You look real ready to go,” I said sarcastically.
“I love this place.” He beamed.
“You mean, you love getting laid every night.”
“Don’t you?”
Blaire rolled her eyes. “You and Eve are really hitting it off, huh?”
“What? Eve? Oh no, we decided we would be better off as friends. I’ve been meeting with this girl Alejandra. She works at a local winery.”
“What? Really?” Blaire gasped. “Ale has a boyfriend.”
“Had a boyfriend,” Santi corrected. “They broke up. She’s my dream girl.”
“I can’t believe that happened,” she said. “I thought you really liked Eve.”
“I do.” He winked at her. “We had a good time. But that doesn’t mean it’s forever. Honestly, she hooked me up with Alejandra.”
Blaire glanced up at me in confusion as Santi headed for the studio. “Wow. Eve never told us.”
“She’s a new roommate though, right?”
“Yeah, she is. I don’t know her as well as Piper or Jennifer, obviously, but she seemed to be into him.”
“Eve seems like someone who can handle herself.”
“You’re right. But I’m totally asking her about it when I get home.”
The bell tinkled overhead, and Honey entered. “Hey, y’all. What did I miss?”
My eyebrows shot up my forehead at the transformed Honey. Her once-honey-blonde locks were now a deep, dark brown. Nearly as dark as Blaire’s pitch-black hair with the same fringe bangs. She’d always had kind of short hair, but she must have gotten extensions or something because it was nearly down to her back. It was a little disconcerting. She was practically a dead ringer for Blaire.
“Whoa, new look,” Blaire said, jumping to her feet.
She giggled and did a little wiggle. “You like?”
Blaire nodded, running her fingers through the extensions. “It’s so cute. Who did them?”
“A friend recommended this place downtown. I just wanted something completely different. You know, after my catastrophe with my last boyfriend.”
“It’s definitely different,” I muttered.
Blaire shot me a look that said, Be nice. I drew her into me again and kissed her hard on the lips.
“I’m going to get to work. Let me know if you need anything. Lunch?”
“Of course.”
“See you, Honey,” I said, waving at her as I left them behind.
“Bye, Campbell,” she said with a wistful tone to her voice.
I cringed and hurried back into the studio. Everyone was set up, getting ready to focus on “Tightrope” again. And I had the sound of Honey’s voice in my head. That was utterly discordant with the song I was about to sing about how falling in love was like walking a tightrope. You had to let trust take you out on it and push forward with confidence, or one wrong step, and everything could fall apart.
I suddenly had a bad feeling about Honey. Was she trying to look like Blaire because of me? She was a Cosmere fan. She’d been desperate to meet us that first night. Now, I was dating Blaire, and suddenly, she was trying to look like her. That didn’t sit right with me, but maybe it was just all the problems I’d had with fans in the past getting to my head. I didn’t know where to begin to tell Blaire without sounding irrational.
“Campbell, you ready?” Viv asked. “We’re all set.”
“Uh, yeah. Let’s do it.”
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.