Chapter Fifteen #2
For the next hour, we learn the lyrics and the music.
It feels really good being up here with the guys.
Noah and I sing some of the lyrics together and some alone, and the harmonies sound great.
And it’s so much fun to move around the stage and bob my head as Elliot kills it on the drums. But the song isn’t the greatest. Something about darkness and light?
I’m not entirely sure. Some of the lyrics are good, but some just sound too awkward.
I can tell from the expressions on Elliot, Wyatt, and Mateo’s faces that they’re not feeling it, either.
As I’m singing my part, the drums suddenly go silent, and then the lead guitar and bass go next. I’m left there singing by myself with Noah playing his guitar.
He stops playing just as I shut my mouth and he turns to the other guys. “What happened? Why did you stop playing?”
With a sigh, Elliot shakes his head. “This isn’t working, Noah.”
“What do you mean?”
He twirls one of his drumsticks between his fingers, not meeting Noah’s eyes. “The song’s not good.”
Noah stiffens. “I thought it’s decent enough.”
“Do we want decent enough or do we want a hit?” Wyatt asks.
Noah looks at him. “You too?”
Wyatt holds out his hands helplessly.
Noah glances at Mateo. “What do you think?”
“It doesn’t strike a punch,” he admits.
Noah shuts his eyes as a heavy breath seeps out of his nose. Then his eyes snap open to me. “What do you think, Evie?”
“Huh? You want my opinion?”
“Of course. You’re part of the band.”
“Right. Um…” I play with my hair, not sure what to say.
“Don’t be afraid to hurt his feelings,” Wyatt tells me. “We’ll deal with harsher critics once we go public with a song.”
I know what it’s like to work so hard on something and feel proud of it, only to be criticized by other people.
I don’t show my art to a lot of people because of that.
I just wouldn’t be able to handle them tearing it apart.
Which is something I know I need to get over when I attend college in a few months.
And if I hope to have a career in the field, I’ll need thicker skin.
“You can be honest, Evie,” Noah says in a soft voice. “Wyatt’s right. I’d rather you tell me it sucks than rude strangers online.”
A sigh escapes my lips. “First of all, the song doesn’t suck. I’ve definitely heard worse.”
Noah’s chest deflates with relief.
“But I’ve certainly heard better. And if this is supposed to be our comeback, I don’t think this song is going to cut it.”
Mateo nods with a regretful expression. “I agree.”
Noah pulls his guitar off his shoulder and walks to the couch, swiping a bag of pretzels and stuffing a few in his mouth. The room is quiet for a long time before he says, “Maybe it is over.”
The other guys just stand there with hopeless expressions.
“Wait, are you guys giving up?” I demand.
Mateo lifts his shoulders. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”
“It shouldn’t be this hard to be in a freakin’ band,” Wyatt grumbles as he plops down next to Noah with a jumbo-size bag of chips. “Maybe it’s not worth it.”
Elliot sighs. “Maybe Mom and Dad are right and I should go into business.”
“Why are we even causing ourselves so much anxiety when this is just a side thing?” Wyatt says. “I mean, we’re all going to have football careers anyway. Except for Elliot.”
A strange expression passes over Noah’s face. I can only describe it as anguish. Loss of hope. Surrender.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say as I march over and snatch away the pretzels and chips. “Are we really feeling sorry for ourselves?”
“You heard us, Evie,” Mateo says. “We suck.”
“We don’t suck,” I correct him. “The music was spectacular and I think our voices were great.”
Mateo grins. “You and Noah sounded amazing together.”
“Thanks. So we have a problem with the song. Isn’t that the hardest part about being in a band? The songwriting?”
“For us it is,” Elliot mutters, where he’s still playing with his stick at the drums.
“Look, I listened to all of your songs last night,” I tell them. “Some of them were amazing. Who wrote them? Noah?”
They nod.
“You’re great at songwriting, Noah. Those songs really spoke to me. What happened?”
He gives me a helpless look. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve lost my touch. I haven’t been feeling inspired.”
I tap my chin. “Maybe you need a woman’s touch.”
Noah’s brow lifts. “Are you talking about yourself?”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Am I not woman enough for you? Remember, you married me.”
The other guys chuckle.
Noah holds up his hand. “Of course you’re woman enough. But do you even know anything about songwriting? And we always bump heads when we try to work together.”
I run my hand through my hair. “True. But we’ve oddly done pretty well as a married couple. Maybe we’ll have success in this, too.”
Noah watches me for a little bit, an uncertain expression on his face.
“What have we got to lose?” I ask. “Let’s get together at your house and see what we can do. I may surprise you.”
Again, he keeps his eyes on me for a bit before running his hand down his face.
“You can ask for help, you know,” I say. “Don’t be so prideful that you can’t admit when you need help.”
He sighs again. “I hate failing.”
“I know. Believe me, I know how much you hate failing. But you’ll fail more if you don’t at least let me help. I know this band is important to you. Why not let us shine?”
Noah looks from one guy to the other.
“Listen to your smart wife,” Mateo says. Wyatt and Elliot nod.
Noah puts his attention on me. “Okay. But you need to take it seriously, Evie. I don’t have time for any of your antics.”
I give him a look. “I’m not playing around here. You know I can be serious when I need to be. Have some faith in me.”
He’s once again quiet as he thinks it over.
“Okay.” He stands and picks up his guitar, though his expression still seems doubtful. “We’ll see you guys later,” he tells the others.
“Have fun!” Wyatt calls after us as we head to the stairs. “Remember, more work and less kissy time. We’re counting on you guys.”
Noah freezes at the foot of the stairs and turns around to glare at his friend.
I laugh. “You seriously need to lighten up, dude.”