Chapter 15 #2
I rush inside, grab my guitar, a notebook, and a pen. On the sofa in the living room, I strum out a tune, trying to find the right rhythm. The words take form, and I jot them down on the page.
I’m about done with the song when these blonde curls attached to a little girl about four or five years old snag my attention. She sways back and forth as I play the melody on my guitar.
“What’s your name?” I continue to play for her.
“Kristin, but you can call me Krissy.” She steps forward.
A woman who looks a lot like her grabs her shoulder. “No, no, honey. He’s working.”
“It’s okay.” I place my guitar on the couch and address Krissy. “Do you wanna try?”
She peeks up at the woman. “Please, Mommy. Can I?”
The woman peers my way with an almost shocked expression. “I guess if Mr. Mayze says it’s fine, then you can.”
“Thanks.” Krissy runs over and climbs into my lap.
“Well, aren’t you a friendly one?” I chuckle, situate her on the couch, and hand her my guitar. “It’s easier to play if you have room.”
She puts it flat on her thighs and plucks the strings. The grin on her face has me smiling as big as she is.
“We haven’t formally met.” The woman holds out her hand. “I’m Missy.”
“Missy and Krissy. Cute.” I stand and shake her hand. “You can call me Cash.”
“Nice to formally meet you.” She motions to Krissy. “Are you sure she can play with that?”
“Yeah. I have plenty more where that came from.” I peek at her messing around with my guitar, then gaze back at Missy. “Why am I just now meeting you?”
“I didn’t think…” Her eyes widen as if she caught herself. “You’re always deep in your music when I’m around.”
Not remembering any time I’ve seen her, I furrow my brow. “You mean I’ve seen you before?”
“Yes, many times.” She releases a nervous giggle. “Don’t worry about it. I never take it personally.”
I shake my head. “What do you mean?”
“Well, um… You…” She flashes me a fake grin. “When I’ve been around before, you seemed to look right through me.”
“What the fuck?” I run my palm over my neck. “I’m sorry I’ve been rude.”
“Oh, no. Please don’t take that to heart. It’s really no problem at all. I probably should’ve introduced myself sooner.”
“Yeah, but I should’ve paid you more attention and said hi.” I gesture toward the hallway with a knot in my gut. “Walk me through what’s going on here.”
“The tech crew is coming to drop video lines through the house.” Missy pulls a clipboard from her bag and flips to the top sheet. “Once they’re in, I can capture the band in real time while you’re all working here.”
“How often will you be recording us?”
“Whenever you’re all here creating instead of the studio. Fans want to see how the music gets made, so I take what we capture and hand it to my social media team to build around.” She taps the page with her pen.
“Where are you doing this?”
“I need to mark each room where I want the crew to run the lines. Living room first, then the recording spaces downstairs.”
“The main bedroom stays off the list.” I cross my arms. “Whatever you’re marking, it stops at that door.”
“Of course.” She glances up from the clipboard. “I wouldn’t mark anywhere private.”
“Yeah, but I wanna be clear. No video where I say.” I keep my arms folded and let the pause carry the point. “Nothing runs into that room.”
“Understood.” She makes a note and moves on without making it a thing. “We’ll keep all the lines to the communal spaces.”
Krissy plucks a single string and tilts her head to one side. The vibration of the note fades out, and she giggles as if she created a masterpiece. The happiness on her face lands on me in a way I don’t expect. It’s deep and takes me back to what Livianna and I lost.
Fuck, I can’t go through that kind of agony again. I shake the thought away.
“She’s a natural.” Missy glances over at her daughter with the quiet pride that doesn’t need an audience. That’s all parental joy. “Ever since I started bringing Krissy with me, she’s been asking for lessons.”
“She’s got good instincts.” Something about the loose blonde curls, the total absence of self-consciousness as she figures the instrument out by feel alone, presses against the inside of my chest. “How old is she?”
“Four.” Missy caps her pen. “She starts preschool in the fall.”
“Does she come with you to work often?”
“When I can’t find a sitter.” Missy lowers her head. “That’s why I waited to come here. I knew you guys were working here today and didn’t want to bother you. I hope it isn’t a problem.”
“It’s fine. You can bring her anytime.” I mean it, though it doesn’t quite cover what’s sitting underneath my rib cage.
I can’t get over the feeling that I’m missing parts of my past. With an effortless grace that hints at deep familiarity, the woman our team hired two months ago moves through this house.
I can’t locate a single moment of it inside myself. Not her face in any context, not her voice in any room I can recall, and not the way Krissy settled onto my couch without hesitation as if the place was already known to her.
“Missy, I’m gonna take care of something downstairs where they’re building the sound room.” I dismiss myself, scratching my head.
What the fuck, Cash? Get your mind straight.
I get to the lower level and amble over to a leather glider we moved into the corner of the room. There’s gotta be a reason I’m having trouble with my memory, but I can’t grasp what it is.
I lie back and decide to take a nap. Maybe I need more sleep. My brain empties as I drift away.
“Callum, love.” Livianna shakes me.
I open my eyes and reorient myself to my surroundings. I pat a mattress. “Hey, Lily. Where the fuck are we?”
“At your place in Laurel Canyon.” She takes a blanket off me. “The guys called, looking for us.”
I scoot up, and that’s when it hits me. I’m in the main bedroom, sleeping on my bed.
“Yeah?” I retrace my steps and don’t remember coming up here. “What time is it?”
“It’s nine. I called and told you to pick me up at seven, but you never showed.” She places the back of her hand on my forehead. “Are you feeling okay? You’re pale and clammy.”
“I’m fine.” I swing my legs off the bed. “Let’s go meet my mates.”
She stays planted where she is. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“Why?”
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong with you.”