10. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Lila
L ila: You free tonight?
Barry: I am, but it’s been a long day. I don’t know if I can help you with music tonight.
Lila: What happened?
Barry: Long story.
Lila: I could bring tea.
Barry: I don’t want to bore you with my family drama.
Lila: Please? I want to be sure you’re okay. We don’t even have to talk about it, but I don’t want you to be alone.
Barry: Fine. I’m at my apartment.
“How long am I staying for?” Juno asked.
“No idea.”
“If it’s an all-nighter again, please just text. And give Barry my number. I want him to have it in case either of you need backup.”
“I will,” I said. “Thank you, Juno.”
I grabbed the box of tea she had purchased for me and walked to the door of Movers and Shakers. When I knocked, he opened immediately.
But this was not the man I knew. A shadow had fallen over his face, making him seem darker. I’d only seen Barry angry when he talked about his family.
What had they done to him?
“Are you okay?”
“Tonight isn’t a good night.”
“You said as much. Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Okay, then tea it is.”
I brushed past him and went up to his apartment. I was in helping mode and I didn’t want him to be alone with whatever had happened. “Sorry, not sorry, but I’m going through your cabinets to find mugs. I hope you don’t have a dildo collection hidden here.”
“Why would I put that in my kitchen cabinets?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you sanitize them in the dishwasher.”
A tiny, almost imperceptible smile crossed his face, and I took that as a win.
I busied myself with warming up some water. When I brought it to him, he looked at me like it was the kindest gesture he’d ever experienced. “Thank you.”
I sat on the couch next to him. “Do you want to talk about it now?”
Barry let out a long sigh. “There isn’t much to say. Other than the fact that my dad is a sexist asshole, and I hit him for it.”
“You . . . oh.” My pulse thrummed. I usually didn’t care for violence. But Barry? Maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing that, especially if the person being hit was a sexist asshole.
“It’s a lot,” he muttered. “It’s always been a lot. But I think we’re finally done with him.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“It is.”
“How are your sister and brother doing?”
He let out a low groan, dragging his fingers over his face. “They’re fine. Probably. It really was a long night and I don’t know how much more I can think about this before I lose it. And you and I only have so much time together . . . I can’t let them take up that time too.”
“I don’t mind,” I insisted.
“No, I just can’t. I want to help you write, not sit here wasting time talking about shitty people doing shitty things.”
I paused. Should I continue pushing him? Would it even help if I did?
“Okay,” I said. “We don’t even have to work. We can just sit here.”
“I think I want to hear your voice. Whatever you’ve got.”
I hadn’t planned to sing, but if it would help him, I could do anything. “Then I’ll play you a song.”
He leaned back, his shoulders sinking in relief. “That is exactly what I need.”
Barry
When Lila performed, I forgot everything.
She played a slower version of one of her hits, the very first song that made me feel seen by her. She couldn’t have known how much this track meant to me, yet it felt like this lucky guess was balm for my soul.
I didn’t know how I’d ever go back to vinyl after seeing her sing live.
I thought tonight was going to be a wash. The plan was to put on my favorite Lila record and be alone, just like every time my family had hurt me.
But now I had her, and terrifyingly, I didn’t know if being alone was enough. She finished the song with a nervous look in my direction.
“Did that help?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It did.”
“Anything for my biggest fan.” She gave me a teasing smile that I was almost ready to return. “Oh, I almost forgot, Juno wants you to have her number.”
“Why?”
“Because I spend so much time with you. She says you might need backup.”
I couldn’t imagine when I would ever need that because Lila couldn’t be seen with me, but I also knew that anything could happen. “Okay, I’ll put it in my phone.”
As I did, I scrolled past Dad’s number, and all of the night came rushing back.
“Is what happened still bothering you?” she asked.
“A little.”
“Do you want to write something?”
“I don’t think I have the focus.”
“It always helps me.” She paused as if in thought. “It doesn’t even have to be about your family. It can be about anything.”
“What if it’s about you?”
Her cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink. “I mean, we can .”
“I know this won’t ever be anything,” I said slowly. “But just for a moment, I’d like to pretend it could.”
“So, a love song?”
“One love song.”
She bit her lip and I was certain she’d say no. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.
“Okay,” she agreed. “One song. But if it’s about us, I might have a hard time changing it.”
“Then don’t.”
“It might not make it on the album, then.”
“It doesn’t have to. For once, we can write without reason.”
A slow smile spread on her face. “I haven’t done that in years.”
“How about we start now?”
She slowly nodded and took a notebook out of her bag. “Do you want to do the honors?”
I gingerly took it from her, hands shaking. I wrote down a few thoughts and passed it back to her. “Is it any good?”
“It’s great,” she replied. “This could really be the beginning of a good song. Here, let’s try this.”
We passed the notebook back and forth, adding to it line by line.
“What kind of chords do you want this to have?” she asked once we had about half of a working song. “Maybe a . . .?” She played a slow and smooth progression.
It was perfect.
We lost the night together. We worked on the song. Lila started it out and I had a heavy hand in the second verse. By the time we were done, she was rubbing at her face again.
“I should go, but this was good. Now to do the other million things on my list.”
“Are you behind?”
“A little.” She shrugged. “But I’ll be okay.”
Guilt settled over me. I’d taken her from her songwriting, which was far more significant than just me.
“I want to help with the rest of it. Tomorrow? We can work as long as we want to.”
“I think I’d like that. Maybe we could even give it a name. I like this theme of everything being for this one night.”
“We could use that. Something like ‘On This Night.’”
Her eyes lit up. “That’s perfect.”