12. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Lila
T he album was so close. I’d called Barry to the studio after becoming Lila again, but we were both tired after working for many hours together.
I needed another song. I’d already recorded the ones that we enjoyed, the ones we could easily change. I’d invited Barry to the studio a few times because his input was more helpful than he knew, but this time, both of us were stumped.
We were trying to make a song work that wasn’t all there. Even I could admit that this one wasn’t as good compared to some of the other songs we’d written.
“I wish we had another like our song.”
“We could just use that one.”
I twirled my hair between my fingers. The song was perfect as is, and changing it would gut me.
But it would fit .
“Are you sure? I mean, it’s ours . And this album is about . . .?” I trailed off, unable to say it.
“Yes, but this song is incredible. And I’ll know that you’ll think of me whenever you sing it.”
He was exactly right. I would always think of him first.
“It’s just . . . it’s ours .”
“And it always will be. I’ll know it.”
I bit my lip. I had refused to think of this song as ever being released, but now that he was giving me permission, I knew it would fit perfectly. “Okay, we can add it.”
“Just let me hear it first. Those are my only terms.”
“How about you get to hear me record it?”
“That’s even better.”
I pulled out my notebook and flipped to the page. I’d doodled on it, adding rough sketches of hearts as I went through the lyrics in my head.
“You’ve come back to it, huh?”
My cheeks burned. “Shut up.”
He laughed but said nothing else. Little did he know, just the sound of that chuckle sent my heart into overdrive.
God, I wanted this.
I wanted him .
Only him.
I wouldn’t do it, though. Even if Blaze had cheated, I refused to stoop to his level.
Barry exited the recording booth, as per usual for when I was about to sing. I took a measured breath and put my notebook on the stand.
I knew I loved it the second I started recording.
Up until the second verse.
“It doesn’t sound right,” I muttered, pulling off my headphones.
I was tempted to slump over, but Juno had given me a long lecture about not letting Rose slip in, so I clenched my teeth and looked at my feet.
“Try it in a different key,” Barry urged through the mic, his low voice patient.
I did, but my tone sounded wrong. I tried to lower the notes to match, but I couldn’t quite get there.
“While that would work,” I said slowly, “I need a lower voice.”
“Hm,” he said, and it hit me that his voice was perfect for this.
“Barry, can you sing this part?”
“I don’t think I should—?”
“It would get the song down. You’d sound good.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve heard many people say you’re good at singing, and I trust them.”
His mouth twisted and I waited for his answer with bated breath.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll record it.”
He stepped into the studio and I knew I should have left him to it, but I couldn’t bear to walk out.
“Is this how duets usually go?” he asked.
“N-not really, but do you mind if I—?”
“I never mind if you stay,” he said lowly. “But you’ll have to tell me if I sound terrible.”
I nodded, eyes on him as he began singing. His low, rough voice was far better up close and my skin erupted in gooseflesh. How was this man not famous? How was he not onstage every single night on tour like I’d been?
“How did that sound?” he asked as he finished.
It took me a second to answer him. “Great. You’re . . . incredible in person.”
“I’m not trained or anything, so I’m sure—?”
“That’s exactly what I like,” I said. He opened his mouth to argue, but I wouldn’t hear it. “In fact, I like it so much that we should sing the chorus together.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very.”
We started again, and this time, I joined in.
Our voices meshed perfectly.
I’d never sung with anyone. When I had features on albums, I would have them record their studio separately and maybe meet up with them to work on the ending sound.
But this was different.
It felt more intimate than sex ever could. It felt like knowing someone so close.
“It’s perfect,” I said when we were done. “It’s exactly what we need for the album’s last song. I don’t know if Mia will like that I brought someone in, but . . .?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “You do whatever you need to with it.”
“She’ll have to deal. It’s a great song and a perfect closer.”
“What’s going to happen now that the whole album is done? Are you going back to LA?”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to stay here and record more with him.
But it was already going to be a fight to even keep this song. Mia would want someone else to feature.
“I’m sorry.” It was as close to an answer as I could give.
“No, don’t be. This was always the deal, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then go back. Just remember your promise. Don’t forget me.”
I didn’t know it would be so hard to get ready to say goodbye, but my throat was thick with emotion. I’d felt at peace here in a way I hadn’t in a very long time.
Before I could overthink it, I hugged him tightly, pressing my face into his firm chest. “I could never. You know that, right?”
His arms wound around me, pulling me in impossibly closer. “I think I’m starting to.”
Barry
I was already in a bad mood when Tom texted.
Saying goodbye to Lila weighed heavier than I could have imagined. I foolishly thought I could change her mind about leaving.
And I didn't.
She was going to go back, make those songs about Blaze, and people would admire how he inspired her once again .
And damn, did it make me angry.
Tom’s text wasn’t much. But it was the final straw to my shitty day.
Tom: Can you tell me about Lila Wilde?
He knew. He had to.
And if he knew, others would too.
Lila had been very firm about this being a secret, and if I’d fucked it up and my brother somehow found out, then her memory of me wouldn’t be good.
Barry: Exactly what do you want to know about her?
Tom didn’t answer and I wondered if this was some shitty manipulation tactic made by Dad to get me to talk. I was sure I’d heard of something like this before.
I knew where he lived, and while I told myself I would never go over, this was a conversation to be had in person. If he was going to betray me, he could at least look me in the eye and do it.
I pounded on his door. He opened it, and when I caught sight of my perfect older brother, a mirror image of Dad, my rage boiled over.
“Why did you ask about Lila Wilde, of all people?” I snapped. “What do you know?”
He dared to blink in shock. “What? I don’t know anything except that she was in your bar.”
I didn’t believe him. “Then why would you be asking about her? You don’t even listen to music.”
“I’m getting into it.”
“That isn’t like you.” And I wasn’t going to fall for his little charade. “Why?”
“For reasons.”
“Really?” He had to have broken his sobriety. As much as I wanted to believe he had stopped drinking, I didn’t. I leaned in, using my nose to try and detect any of his favorite habit.
“Are you smelling me?”
“I’m making sure you’re not drunk.”
“I quit.”
Okay, maybe I was wrong.
“You could have broken,” I said, “but I forgot how stubborn you and Ruth can be.” My anger was fading at his sheer confusion and now I doubted he knew a damn thing. “Just forget I was here.”
His hand clamped on my shoulder. “Why would you come visit me because I asked about Lila Wilde? Was it just to see if I was drunk?”
Why was he touching me? Why was he even being nice ? Weren’t we supposed to hate each other? I shrugged it off and he pulled away. “It’s nothing.”
“It?”
I turned to him. “Since when is what I do of any interest to you? Aren’t you too busy running the family business?”
“It’s not that hard to run it.”
“Dad made it seem that way.”
“I’m not Dad.”
I appraised him. “Head of the company? Telling me running it isn’t hard? Could have fooled me.”
I expected him to snap back. I certainly would have if I were in his shoes.
But he didn’t.
“Fair enough,” he replied. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
I didn’t expect to see his eyes on the ground. He looked smaller, like he was filled with regret .
And he’d never looked less like Dad to me.
“Really?”
“Yes. I already asked Ruth about her and she told me to come to you, but I should have known you wouldn’t want to be bothered. I’m sorry. For both bothering you and for pushing you to talk about your life.”
You accused him and he’s apologizing? that little voice said. Come on, Barry.
“No.” It hurt to admit I was in the wrong, but it was the right thing to do. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I came over here in the wrong headspace.”
“Because I asked about Lila Wilde?”
“Yes. You asking—you even just texting me—came out of nowhere. I thought that if you were drunk, you might be using the fact that she’s been in the bar to get something from me.” And she’d just left, souring my mood even further. Clarity felt like a bucket of cold water. “But that’s a Dad move. Not you.”
“Why would anyone care if she’s been in a bar?”
For such an intelligent man, I didn’t get how he wouldn’t see it.
“A major pop star? In a small bar in Nashville? It’s not like her. Her fans would pick it apart and they’d find me. Do you know what would happen if Lila was connected to anyone other than that boyfriend of hers?”
“I don’t.”
“It would be like what happened with Ruth, but twenty times worse.”
“Okay, I can see why that would be a problem. But I’m not going to tell anyone. Your life is your life.”
“I agree, but I remember a time when everyone told me what I should be. Including you.”
I didn’t want it to affect me. I thought it wouldn’t once I wrote off Mom and Dad. Yet I was so angry.
“I won’t do that again,” he said. “I was genuinely curious.”
“Why? You’re busier than ever now that you run the company.”
His lips pressed together. “I work all day and come home to a quiet apartment. I just thought . . . music would fill the void.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.” I took in his newly tense shoulders. “Are you trying to hide something from me?”
Was it what Ruth knew?
“Someone I care about likes her,” he said slowly.
“Like a girlfriend? I didn’t think you did commitment.”
“It’s not a girlfriend . . . It’s complicated.”
“Does it have anything to do with why Ruth’s been acting weird?”
“How do you know Ruth is acting weird?”
“We talk. Sometimes.” I pretended to be nonchalant about it with a shrug.
“Really?”
“I’m trying, okay? So whatever this is . . . just tell me. You give a little, I’ll give a little. About Lila, I mean.”
“I seriously doubt that,” he muttered, looking away again. “In fact, you’ll probably find it funny for two seconds and then hate me.”
“The only thing I’d find funny is if you were wearing heels to be taller than me.”
“I—why would I do that?”
“Ruth does. Dad does.”
“He what?”
“I snuck into his closet one day and found them. All of his boots have heels so he’s as tall as Mom.” It was one of the few good memories I had of home. I knew Dad was insecure about his height and I wanted something to knock him down a peg.
“How did I never know this?”
“You and Ruth zoned out when I got yelled at for hinting I knew about them. It was worth it, though.”
“Huh. That must be why he never took them off at home.”
“We got off topic again.” I shook my head. “I believe you were about to give me information?”
He looked pained. “I need to know for a . . . child.”
“A child?”
“ My . . . child.”
I froze. Tom had a child ? A real, living, breathing child ?
And he never said anything?
“You have a kid?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Eleven. Almost twelve.”
“Fuck. Almost twelve? You managed to keep that a secret for this long?”
“I didn’t know about him.”
“What do you mean you didn’t know ?” I was realizing just how much worse this was.
“I mean, I was told. But I turned her away, I guess.”
“There isn’t any guessing here, Tom.” I’d thought lowly of my brother, but I always hoped that he wouldn’t do this.
There was no way he would leave a child out there. Dad was a piece of shit, but even he didn’t leave us, even if it would have been better if he had.
“She told me through an email that I don’t remember,” he explained. “I’ve tried to, but I don’t. I don’t remember most of college.”
“I wonder why.” I rolled my eyes. “Alcohol is a dangerous thing. A little is fine, but you were getting smashed every night for years. That does lasting damage.”
“I know. And I’ve stopped.”
“Yeah. Good for you. Except it’s twelve years too late. Knowing about Lila Wilde, even if this kid is her biggest fan, isn’t going to fix this, you know.”
At least he had the decency to look like he felt bad about it.
My conscious was wrong about Tom. I shouldn’t have stuck around for him. Only Ruth was worth it. I needed to get out of here and never talk to him again.
“I know.” His voice was hard. “There is no apology, no gift, nothing , that can make up for it. All I can hope for is to know him for the time that his mother is tolerating me. I can’t make up for what I’ve done, what I’ve missed, but I can’t sit here knowing about him now and leave him.”
“Then how could you have done it all those years ago?”
“I don’t know!” He snapped, his voice loud like Dad’s but shaking in a way I’d never heard before. “I don’t fucking know. She was . . . I remember her. I remember the one day we had like it was yesterday but nothing else. I wish I had done something different. If I could go back in time and shake some sense into younger me, then I would. But all I know is at that time, Dad was on my ass about being the only Murray he deemed worthy, and I probably hid it so I wouldn’t disappoint him, or worse, get smacked around by him. It’s not an excuse, but I just want to try to be a good person this time. And I don’t know if I can.”
You’re still not wrong about him, the voice said. He regrets it.
Son of a bitch . Just when I thought I knew him, he surprised me again. My family was good at that, apparently.
“That’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say.”
“What? Aren’t you supposed to yell at me some more?”
“I could, but you seem to know how bad you fucked up.” And then I did the math in my head. “And that was around the time that I started acting out so . . . maybe that was why Dad was harder on you. So, I’m sorry for that.”
I’d always annoyed our parents, but it really ramped up in ninth grade when Dad downplayed yet another one of my passing grades in favor of Tom’s and Ruth’s perfect performances. That was when he figured out that I would never be like him and I realized I was fucking done.
“It’s not your fault. It’s Dad’s, and it’s mine. I own up to it.”
“You’re being more mature than most.” I gave a small sigh as my feet pushed me forward and I took off my jacket. “Which is why I’ll tell you more about Lila, even the things most people don’t know.”
“I appreciate it,” I said. “But they have to be kid appropriate.”
“Duh.” What kind of a person did he think I was? “I mean the things real fans know.”
“How about which album to start with? I’m wanting to listen to her, and to music in general. It’s just overwhelming.”
“Why?”
“You don’t remember when Dad laid into me at dinner when he thought me listening to music caused me to get a B on a final?”
“I dimly remember it. All of Dad’s yelling blends together.”
“It ruined music for me. And now I don’t even know where to start.”
“Maybe start with her softer stuff. It’s not as popular, but her deep cuts are what are really interesting. She has this way of subtly hinting at something going wrong in life. If you were to like anything, it would be that.”
“What songs?”
“I’ll make you a list,” I said. “I think it’s cool that you’re trying to get into your kid’s interests.”
“He’s worth it.”
And I hoped he was being genuine because if he were, then he was already steps ahead of Dad.