Chapter 6 Micah
SIX
MICAH
It was my worst nightmare come to life.
Too late.
Kaylee’s voice, rough with unshed tears, had echoed in my mind the rest of the night.
The band had all planned on getting together the day after the late-night show performance, to debrief and go over our plans for the second album. I’d been the one to insist on it, but now I was regretting my decision.
The thought of seeing Kay again so soon after she’d walked out on me made my stomach twist. I couldn’t get her words out of my head, or her expression. She’d been angry, yes, but she also hadn’t been able to keep the heartbreak from her face.
The whole reason I’d taken a step back was because I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I didn’t want our relationship to change.
But despite my best efforts, because of my best efforts, my worst nightmare was coming true.
“You’re looking pretty wound up,” Zain said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I had barely noticed him clomping down the stairs to the practice room in the basement of our mansion.
Their mansion. It wasn’t mine. I didn’t live there anymore.
“Did the label do something to freak you out again?” he said, taking a seat on a stool at one of Kay’s drum sets. “I know there’s always an exec or two who keep calling and bugging you.”
“No,” I replied.
I tended to field all calls from the label so the others didn’t have to deal with their bullshit. It wasn’t the label bothering me this time, but Zain could still tell something was up.
I didn’t know what to do with myself, full of nervous energy and resisting the urge to pace. It left me standing dumbly in the middle of the room with my arms hanging at my sides, shoulders tight and fists clenched.
“Did something happen with another band in the recording studio, then?” Zain asked.
“No.”
He went silent for a moment then spoke up.
“You want to talk about whatever it is?” He sounded sincere. “It might help.”
I pinned him down with a stare. “I thought you were the one who hated it when we pulled that psychotherapist bullshit.”
Zain held his hands up, backing off and getting up to walk over to the guitar stand.
“Fair enough,” he said over his shoulder. “Forget I said anything.”
Shit. I hadn’t meant to get pissy with him. I took off my glasses and rubbed at the bridge of my nose.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs again, softer this time but with a slight bounce to them. My stomach swooped.
I could recognize Kay by the sound of her steps. Just like I could tell it was her when she came up from behind me by her vanilla scent.
“Hey Zain, hey Micah,” she said breezily.
A part of me wondered if it would be like old times, if she would take my arm and drag me over to the sofa so we could sit next to each other.
I held my breath.
She passed right by me without a second glance.
I was stupid for being disappointed. Space was exactly what I’d wanted, wasn’t it?
Just not like this. Not with Kay being angry with me.
“How’s that solo working out?” she asked Zain, sitting down at the drum set closest to him.
She began idly swiveling back and forth on the stool. She was wearing light blue denim jeans that hugged her every curve, and her crop top exposed a strip of skin, showing off the delicious curve of her lower back every time she spun around.
What would it be like, to run my hands up that tantalizing curve? I just knew her skin would be soft, and warm. She would arch her back under my touch with a whimper and…
I swallowed hard, mentally blinking the images away.
Dammit. I was so fucked.
How was I supposed to keep our friendship intact when I needed to put as much space between us as possible? How was I supposed to keep space between us when I wanted her so desperately? How could I want her so desperately when I could list a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t?
And how could I list a dozen reasons we shouldn’t be together when sometimes it felt like being with Kaylee was the only one true thing I wanted in life?
The other members joined us in the practice room as Zain and Kaylee talked shop and I stood there doing fuck all, my mind a mass of swirling chaos.
I waited until there was a lull in the conversation before clearing my throat.
“We all know the label is asking about our second album,” I started.
“Bitching about it, more like,” Finn mumbled. “So what else is new? They’re always bitching about something.”
“Says the person they’re always bitching about,” Zain said with a snort.
“I keep telling everyone, I’m a reformed man!” Finn protested. “No one’s complained about me in months.”
“That just means we’re overdue,” Zain ribbed.
“Seriously guys,” I interrupted. “We’re behind. Way behind. We haven’t even decided on the track list yet. All of you are still working on songs.”
“You mean all of us,” Kaylee interjected. “I know you like to think you’re on the production side of things now, but you’re still a part of this band, too.”
I tried not to grimace. Fuck, talk about being called out.
“All of us,” I corrected myself. “We really need to start finishing things. I know you all love to tweak until you think everything is perfect, but you know the saying—”
“Don’t—” Zain, Finn and Kaylee all groaned together.
“Perfect is the enemy of done,” I said firmly.
“You know we hate it when you overuse clichés,” Anya mumbled under her breath.
“So, what, you want us to put out crappy songs?” Kaylee asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You know that’s not what I’m saying,” I said, praying for patience. “But you— we—have more than enough songs to at least go into the studio and start recording something.”
The others all murmured their agreement, despite the look of distaste on some of their faces.
“So what I’d like is for each of us to pick a song we think is ready,” I said. “That’ll give us six songs. That’s more than enough to start with.”
“What if the first six songs end up not vibing with the rest we choose?” Kaylee spoke up. “Don’t we want a cohesive sound?”
“We can cross that bridge when we come to it,” I said. “Let’s think of them all as singles. We’re not doing a concept album, after all.”
“Hey, that’s a cool idea!” Finn said excitedly, sitting up from his usual languid slouch. “What if we—”
“No,” Anya said. I was grateful she’d spoken up before I had to. “It’s too late into our process for that. Maybe on our third album.”
Finn slumped back down with an airy wave of the hand. “Fine, fine, kill the fun.”
This isn’t supposed to be fun.
The words almost slipped out of my mouth but I caught them in time. I didn’t want to imagine the horrified look on Kaylee’s face if I’d said that out loud. If she was pissed at me now…
But it was true. Making music was making music, and doing business was doing business.
Unfortunately, as much as some of the band members might not like to hear it, those two things had to go hand in hand if we wanted to succeed in this industry.
Otherwise we could have just stayed indie and kept putting out songs by ourselves.
Of course, that would have meant no mansion.
No stadium concerts. No bank accounts with positive digits.
We’d probably all still be crammed into that two-bedroom apartment, just scraping by, barely able to afford groceries, and definitely not able to save for things like fancy cars and vacations, or the more practical emergency funds, or any unexpected medical expenses.
My mind immediately shied away from that last thought. I didn’t want to go there, not today.
Anyway, it was my responsibility to take care of the band. To watch over them, to make sure we were all on the right track. That has always been my role, and I took it seriously.
“So,” I continued. “One song each. Think we can all do that?”
“Sure, I’m game,” Zain said easily, as if I’d asked him to choose which movie to watch that night and not something as make-or-break as the track list for our sophomore album.
“We’ve got one song I can think of that’s ready.
I just need to stop tweaking the solo.” Zain smirked at me with a sarcastic glint in his eyes.
“I don’t think I’ll have anything of my own ready quick enough,” Chris said. “But I can help anyone else if they need a second pair of eyes.” He didn’t sound upset about it, so I counted that as a win.
“I might take you up on that,” Anya told Chris. “I’ve always been better at melody, I could use your help coming up with a great chord progression.”
Good. The band had taken my suggestion well enough without protest. I was relieved until I saw the obstinate look on Kaylee’s face, her jaw set firmly. This might end up being a battle.
It was also an opportunity. An opportunity to fix things.
The only question was, would Kaylee accept the olive branch?
“Kay, why don’t we work on something together?” I said.
Her jaw went slack, mouth almost dropping, but she caught herself. There was an internal struggle in her eyes.
“We always did make the best stuff, after all,” I said. “All the big hits came from the two of us.”
“Hey!” Finn and Zain protested together.
“Many of the big hits came from us,” I corrected.
“Only some!” Finn insisted.
My eyes met Kaylee’s, sharing a familiar glimmer of amusement before she looked away.
“I’d really like to talk about it,” I told her, knowing that she would understand I meant more than the songwriting.
“Hey guys, why don’t we take a lunch break?” Anya spoke out loud. “While these two talk out the details.”
“Great idea,” Chris said. He put his wide palms on Finn and Zain’s shoulders, physically maneuvering them toward the staircase to go upstairs. The two of them looked befuddled but went without protest.
“So, you want us to choose a song and work on it together?” she asked immediately.
“Yes,” I said. “We always worked best when it was just the two of us, and I know we’ll be able to throw together something fast. We should already be in the recording studio by now,” I added as an afterthought.
Kaylee gave me an incredulous look.
“Well maybe if you hadn’t been avoiding me, we could have finished these songs and gotten the album done ages ago,” she stressed caustically.
I winced.
“I know,” I said, lowering my head. “It’s my fault. I messed everything up. But Kay, you have to know I never meant to hurt you.” I lifted my head and met her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I was just… I just…” I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated and unable to find the right words.
“What are you sorry for?” she asked, not in a mocking way, but genuinely asking.
“For avoiding you,” I said. “For not talking to you. For all the things you accused me of. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
Kaylee stared at me, looking me in the eyes, as if trying to gauge my sincerity. I stood still, willing to let her examine every inch of me, down to my core. Finally, she nodded once, a look of understanding on her face.
“All right then,” she said, her voice sounding resolute. “Let’s work on a song together.”
“Just like old times?” I offered her a smile.
She returned my smile with a grin of her own. “Just like old times.”