Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Juliet had never really collaborated from start-to-finish in the creative process before.
And, she’d learned over the last few days, it was very different than starting on a song from scratch, yourself, and then reviewing and revising with input from other writers and producers.
Learning Darcy’s songwriting techniques was like having a very rigorous English Literature tutor, given that when Darcy had returned to her bedroom the other night, she’d presented Juliet with three different novels.
“This is the beginning of my process for this song,” she’d stated, both proudly and a little nervously.
Which Juliet understood, because delving into this – into the very root of this process – was personal. It was one of the most personal things they did.
She’d taken the novels, taking in the titles and skimming the blurbs. All westerns – one a historical, one a romance, one contemporary literary fiction. “You… read these books in preparation?”
Nik Kosta’s film was a sweeping western, so certainly on theme.
Darcy had nodded. “Yeah, I got them right after my viewing. I just thought – it would be a great idea to be able to really situate myself in the right frame of mind.”
Juliet had looked down at the books in her hands. “And you do this when you’re writing songs, in general?”
“Well, I’m usually always reading, and I’m also always writing, so, yes. But also, yes, as in – if I’m struggling to get into the right headspace for writing or if I’m trying to uplevel a piece I’m working on, I’ll try to find books with a similar theme or vibe.”
“Huh.” It made a lot of sense. Like, a lot of sense. So much of Darcy’s music had literary references and allusions. It was what had hooked into Juliet at the beginning of last year, and had refused to ever let her go.
“What do you do, to get in the writing mood?” Darcy asked, curiosity lighting her up as she’d shifted closer to Juliet. “If you’re starting something new?”
Juliet hadn’t really ever had to explain her process to anyone, not like this.
Not in the stages she was currently in for the soundtrack piece.
She felt atypically self-conscious, as she’d answered, “Mostly just make little notes and toy around with chords until something strikes. And when a phrase really sticks, I grab onto it and run. Sometimes, if I’m looking for inspiration, I’ll sit in the music studio downstairs and just play old records. ”
Her stomach twisted intensely, her cheeks heating, debating if she wanted to be really honest.
But… as she’d looked at Darcy sitting in her bed, wearing her robe, her blonde hair tousled around her shoulders still, she found that she did.
After all, what was she holding back, anymore?
She’d already told Darcy about the hell she was in of her own making.
She’d signed those contracts herself, might as well have been inked in blood.
So, she’d admitted, “And… sometimes, I sit in the art studio–”
“The door you opened for about two seconds for me to sort-of catch a glimpse of,” Darcy interjected.
“Yes, that one.” No, she hadn’t allowed Darcy to really look inside during the tour when she’d arrived.
They’d been in a weird place, and Juliet had felt far from being able to be open and honest in the face of Darcy’s agitation.
“I like to paint. I’m not good at it,” she quickly tacked on, needing Darcy to know she was self-aware of that fact.
“But… it can be very freeing, mentally. Emotionally.”
Maybe not when she was in Darcy-turmoil, but at other times.
Darcy’s lips had tugged into a considering frown, as she’d held her hand out for Juliet to shake. “Okay.”
Apparently, that handshake had meant Juliet was signing up for her literary bootcamp. Because the following day, they’d gotten right down to business.
Juliet had spent the entire day in various places in her house – lounging outside on the hammock, inside on the couch in the den – reading Darcy’s books.
And Darcy had spent her day listening to the albums Juliet had plucked from her collection that she felt fit the tone of the film.
Darcy had even painted something in her studio, though she wouldn’t show Juliet.
Fair; she understood that. It was hard to be really good at their chosen outlet, and then… not so good at another.
The next day, they’d compared notes that they’d both taken about themes and characters. They’d both talked to Nik about the tone of the song he was looking for – something serious, impactful, emotional.
And they’d spent the following two days getting right down to business.
Her music studio had never been so lived-in.
It almost looked like it had survived something traumatic, with the way Darcy would tear out pieces from her notebook and arrange them in front of her.
“I can only really focus on it all when I can see them all,” she’d explained, darting her eyes over the many pages of notes.
It was all kind of a blur in Juliet’s mind, how quickly it had passed. How she and Darcy had both dialed in, channeling a very specific shared focus on this goal while knowing they had a tight timeline.
After all, Darcy was leaving to start her tour tomorrow. The song still had to be mastered, they could do small revisions and pickups in the coming weeks, but… their time sequestered in Juliet’s house sharing this hivemind about the song was coming to an end far faster than she’d have liked.
Interesting, really, because she’d never shared her home with someone for days on end, before.
“How was it, having a roommate for the week?” Darcy asked her, sipping on the blackberry bourbon lemonade she’d prepared.
Juliet pretended to frown in consideration as she eyed Darcy from across her kitchen island. “I’m giving you five stars, but specifically because you also provided a profoundly wonderful cocktail service.”
Also very true. In their evenings, Juliet would prepare dinner, while Darcy would make whatever cocktail came to Juliet’s mind.
Darcy bowed her head, lifting her glass. “I’ll take it.”
Juliet had a dishtowel over her shoulder, as she leaned against the counter opposite Darcy. “How did you like it?”
“Ummm, I’d say I’m vastly more prepared for dealing with roommates than you are,” Darcy commented with a laugh.
Her eyes were shining up at Juliet, though, as she conceded, “But you are the best cook I’ve ever lived with.
Which surprised me, actually. I thought you’d have a private chef come in or something. ”
Juliet wrinkled her nose. “Ah, definitely not. Also, thank you. I will only mention it to your sister occasionally that you think I’m a better cook than she is.”
Darcy groaned, dropping her head back. “I specifically said you made a better chicken piccata! She will never let me live that down.”
She shrugged – that did not take away from her feeling of victory – sipping her own lemonade.
Darcy cleared her throat, tapping her fingertips lightly against the counter. “I know we obviously have to wait to hear back from Nik about the song tonight, but… you opened the door, for us to really work together. Even though I work with Blythe and Emerson, this was different.”
Juliet held Darcy’s gaze with her own for several beats, feeling the words bubbling up in her throat before she let them escape. “I should, probably, thank you. I… look, I have wanted to get a glimpse inside of your mind for a lot longer than you know.”
Interest sparked across Darcy’s face. “What does that mean?”
Inhaling very deeply, Juliet felt ridiculously exposed. Truly it was ridiculous, because Darcy knew she had feelings for her. Darcy had spent the last several nights, after they’d worked together intimately all day, tangled up with Juliet in her bed.
And yet…
“The reason I resented you from day one, even before I ever said anything that night at the NAMAs is because…” She paused, gripping the counter so tightly in her fingers, before admitting, “Because you are a better songwriter than I am.”
She’d resented it, she’d denied it, she’d envied it, she’d respected it, and now… now she was in far too deep with Darcy to do anything other than admire that fact.
Especially in working so closely with her, seeing the obsessive nature with which Darcy approached the process.
The reading, the notetaking, the way she focused like her mind was going into overdrive.
Like she was entering a plane of creative existence Juliet could glimpse at, and could maybe, occasionally tap into.
Working with Darcy like this, on a project from beginning to end, was the ultimate balm for any possible bitterness over her success. Even though Juliet had been around longer, even though she’d paid more dues in the industry, Darcy wasn’t some novice at their craft.
She’d honed it for just as long as Juliet had, just without the money and acclaim.
She released that breath, finding a surprising peace in finally acknowledging that truth aloud.
Darcy, for her part, was utterly shocked. Her mouth had parted, her eyes wide, as she slowly shook her head. “That’s not actually true.”
“It is, though,” she countered, quietly but firmly.
Juliet sharply arched her a measuring stare.
“I’m not saying I’m without talent. I’m not saying I haven’t written some really great songs.
And I’m definitely not saying this so that you’ll start complimenting me.
If I want you to compliment me, I’ll tell you. ”
Darcy scoffed, her laughter spilling into the room. “Yeah, that feels right.”
She shrugged, leaning forward slightly on her hands braced against the counter. “While you go on your tour, I’m going to take your trade secrets and start working on my fifth album. Essentially, you’ve just helped the enemy,” she teased.
But Darcy wasn’t looking at her with laughter anymore, her eyes weren’t glinting back in that teasing way.
She looked so serious as she slid off of her stool and walked around Juliet’s island, holding her gaze the entire way, that her breath caught and held, and all she became aware of was how hard her heart beat at the intensity in Darcy’s stare.
She only exhaled when Darcy stood right in front of her, boxing her in, surrounding her.
“You aren’t the enemy.” Darcy leaned in, her lips only a hair away. So close, Juliet’s eyes fluttered closed and she could feel her mouth move as Darcy whispered, “Not even close.”
Darcy connected their lips in a kiss that was coaxing at first, even though it didn’t need to be. Juliet was so far from needing to be coaxed into anything with Darcy; she was living in a state of permanent seduction.
Unfortunately, Juliet’s gleaming reputation as a chef was ruined by a charred roasted chicken.