Chapter 3
HILLS
I was told she’d be hard to work with and that she’d been busy post-award season. Then again, post any award season, everyone was busy. Most people had no clue that by the time November came, you were shit out of luck in the industry when it came to work, books included. It’s like everyone took a huge hiatus until February and then scrambled to get content out the minute all the film festivals were done. For musicians, it was a bit different since we were working on things behind the scenes for promo and marketing. Even having a solid plan, it was hard as hell to get ahold of people and even when you did. It was even harder to hear back from them unless it was a major deal.
Yay for execs taking a two-month-long fucking vacation while the rest of us worked our asses off and prayed they’d give us good promo for our next song, good marketing, money, placement, and time. Oh look, skiing in Sun Valley again, nice, must be nice, how’s the powder, oh and about the title song for our next mini album, I was thinking...
Yeah, good luck with that.
Basically, when I got back from the military, everything was dead, so I had one choice: go skiing with everyone else, order some chicken and beer in Seoul, or fly over to LA and lay down some tracks that might not even make it on our album. The rest of the guys weren’t out yet, so I could at least tease a bit and promote our next album, which was set to release, get this, in two months. Most got out in two weeks.
So we had that long to record. The K-pop industry was a different breed. I’d grown up in Chicago and moved over to train with my label when I was thirteen and had no idea what I was getting into.
School, vocals, dance, testing, repeat.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long for me, but I saw way too many friends burn out and leave after years of trying to get their debut with a group, and even then, some of the ones that did debut fizzled out after one album. So much was involved in the factory that was K-pop. Then again, they had the formula down because when it went right, they saw nothing but dollar signs.
I wouldn’t really call myself a social media stalker, but a friend of a friend had used one of Lyric’s songs, and I’d been following her since getting out of the military. Then I just couldn’t look away, and by the time I realized what I was doing, I was already landing at LAX and driving to the studio she worked at.
It may have been a one-night stand, but she had no idea why I ghosted her. But you can’t really walk up to the girl you walked away from after you became famous and say, oh hey, our thing wasn’t about getting some ass, and you’re super talented.
I had to prove myself.
Make sure she remembered me—remembered us most of all. I just hoped she wouldn’t be offended when I showed her everything.
The scars.
The bleeding.
The vulnerability that felt shameful in society—saying I need help, I’m sad, I’m anxious, I’m not okay—all of those words that made you want to scream at the world and beg for your soul to be set free—these were the things I was dealing with when I met her.
My savior.
But people can’t save you.
You can only save yourself.
And you can only hope you’re strong enough to do it.
Especially knowing how horrible people in the industry could be—specifically one that didn’t want you dating anyone but your fans. Idols were called idols for a reason.
So I studied her songs, I felt them, and then I convinced the rest of the guys I’d get her and her team for our next album. We didn’t want to be forgotten after being out of the scene for two years, but we also wanted to show a more mature side of ourselves.
And she had that. She felt that.
Would we still be relevant?
Would people forget us?
Would it matter in the long run if the music was complete shit anyway?
No, even if we failed, we needed to show it all: the good, the bad, and the ugly; isn’t that why music transcends languages, orientations, worlds?
Because it hits different.
I wanted to be known for that, and I know the other guys did too.
I cleared my throat. “Ready?”
She stared at me, black headphones on, eyes staring straight through me. Her hair was longer, blonde with shots of pink in it, and her makeup was perfection despite the fact I could still see some dark circles under her eyes.
High on caffeine. Typical.
Low on food. Also typical.
Her eyes blinked away. “I’m starting you in like I said, eight counts into the rap. You have the lyrics in front of you, want me to play the demo first or?—”
“—I’ve got it, I heard the butchering earlier.”
I grinned.
Her lips twitched. “Sure, yeah, okay, go for it, Hills.”
The music started, and then she stopped it. “Seriously though, you told me your name was Johnny.”
“Hills.”
I nodded. “Johnny Hills. It’s my middle name. My stage name is Hills.”
Most K-pop artists had them.
“Oh.”
She exhaled like it was a relief I didn’t lie to her. “All right, let’s go, I’ll let you do your thing.”
The song was fast coming in, the melody had shifted from the chorus down into the third rap, which would go into the main killing part and bridge into the, whoa, okay, there was a lot going on. I didn’t get to hear all of it when I listened to the demo, and since I wasn’t in the booth, I didn’t actually hear him do the rap, I just assumed it was shit when he walked out and swayed against each wall down the hallway until he finally made it to the elevator only to hit the down button then the up button and stumble against his girlfriend for the seventh time.
Wasted.
Messed up.
I focused as much as I could while Lyric tapped her bare nails against the headphones and nodded at me.
I took a deep breath and dove headfirst into it, kind of the way I dove headfirst into her, without thinking of the ramifications.
“We are the stars that shine
We are the stars that shine
You by my side
We break the walls that bind
Leave everything behind
Be the star so bright
The star that’s always been mine
Cuz you’re the only way to make things bright
Leave the world you say behind
Driving me insane
Help me find the way while begging me to stay
Follow you anyway
Girl, follow you anyway.”
I was too slow on the last part.
My voice cracked at least twice.
She stopped recording.
It was too eerily silent in that booth.
I gulped at least twice when she looked up at me and tossed her headphones onto the table in front of her. “Again.”
Yeah, I could have guessed that.
“And jump into the chorus when you’re done, do you need the replay of the demo?”
I almost said no, ma’am, like I was in the military. “No, I’m good.”
I was just rusty, and it wasn’t helping that she was right in front of me the girl that got away, the one I walked from in order to protect my own career, her heart, the one I wasn’t careful with when she was the most precious person in my world.
She hit the music again without warning, pulling her headphones back onto her face. Her hair stuck against her pink lipgloss while she stared me down.
Why was that so sexy in the first place?
I locked eyes with her, I did the rap, and then I went right into the bridge.
“Exploding in the air.
Catastrophe awaits.
Come dive with me inside.
Destiny’s the only way.”
She stopped the music again.
Shit.
“Again.”
Was she a fucking general or something?
I knew I killed that last part.
Maybe that was the whole point, torturing and killing me. I nodded and started again.
And again.
And again.
Two hours later, again was my least favorite word, and she somehow looked cheerful over the fact that I was seconds away from throwing instruments around the booth.
A cymbal, God, even a cymbal, would give me stress relief. The song stopped again, abruptly.
Her finger had to be sore from all the times she slammed it down. But there was no way she was finished with me. She was a sadist. “Good.”
That. Was. It?
Good?
Good?
Just good?
My jaw dropped. “Is that your idea of a compliment?”
“Is that your idea of singing?”
Oh shit, I took a deep breath and looked down, not trusting myself to keep calm. “I’m more than good.”
When I looked up, all I saw was a shrug and a small smirk.
I narrowed my eyes, then I went for it. I stomped out of the booth, marched toward her chair, and pulled her against me. “Admit it.”
“What?”
“You missed me, and I’m more than good.”
She licked her lips and stared up at me. “Mildly better than good, and I didn’t even remember you until now.”
“Lie.”
My nostrils flared. “I know I messed up, but I also know that the minute I met you I’d be leaving you for at least eighteen months. You can’t blame me for panicking when I had one of the best moments of my life after, mind you, growing up as a trainee who’s told he’s going to basically get blacklisted if he gets involved with anyone.”
Her smile grew a bit. “Probably not a good idea to hook up then in a recording studio as your first act of rebellion.”
“No.”
I laughed. “Probably not my best moment.”
“I did.”
“What?”
“Miss you. I missed you. And you hurt me. And you’re better than good, and now you’re going to have another hit album, especially if I’m on it, and then you’ll walk away again. The good ones always do, want to know why?”
“Tell me.”
“Because of the music.”
She nodded, her eyes glistened with tears. “The music is always number one, and I don’t blame you for it, but I don’t want to live my life as number two.”
“But...”
I tilted my head and leaned in. “Couldn’t it be a tie?”
“What?”
“Music, love, can’t it be a tie? Why does one have to lose out when they’re always better together?”
“Two powerful things like that are terrifying, don’t you think?”
I sighed and grabbed her hand; it was as soft as I remembered. “I’m not sure it’s worth having if you aren’t scared. I’d rather be afraid than not feel anything.”
She tried to pull her hand away, but I didn’t let her. “And you think this is going to somehow go differently than before?”
“Of course,”
I said, without a shadow of doubt. “I’m older, I’ve lost my touch, so I’m going to need a lot of direction.”
I stood and pulled her to her feet. “Maybe it’s time to stop fighting so hard and just give into the fear. Life is about more than sitting in this chair and creating dreams and melodies for other people.”
“Did you practice this speech before walking in here?”
“I literally wrote it down on my hand.”
I teased. “And then I forgot all of it after seeing you. I wanted to sweep you off your feet and ended up falling a bit harder; maybe I’m out of practice.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know you can’t just walk into a studio and seduce the writer after almost two years, it doesn’t really work that way.”
“Seduce?”
I frowned. “I just wanted to be your friend. I’m sorry, did I miscommunicate?”
“You ass!”
She laughed. “Be honest, why are you here?”
“I ran,”
I admitted. “The minute I was done with the military. I ran home, I showered—don’t worry, I made sure to practice this speech in my head—and then I ran to you.”
I shrugged. “Gerald helped.”
“Of course he did. He’s a romantic like that.”
“So?”
“Dinner.”
She shrugged. “Buy me dinner first, then we can talk.”
“And the song?”
She leaned up and wrapped her arms around my neck. “It’s yours.”
Her hands dropped too fast, she turned even faster, and I was once again feeling like I was chasing something I would never catch, no matter how hard I tried.
It wasn’t an obsession.
It was something deep, something that I couldn’t stop thinking about the entire time I was gone. I knew that I walked away first in order to keep myself from hurting while I told myself it was the best for her and her career.
After all, what good would it do to have the media find out that an up-and-coming producer and guy from one of the biggest K-pop groups in the world hooked up?
She would have never made it.
They would have destroyed her.
It was easier to destroy us, hoping that later on, I could possibly salvage what was left after she made a name for herself.