I think I’m starting to understand her a little better.
The three guys talk and mess around for the next ten minutes, trying to include me in their conversation where they can, and then a man and a woman walk in. They introduce themselves as Naomi and Wes and welcome me to the studio, and then Wes tells Lucas to “get the hell out of my chair.”
Naomi looks at her watch and puts her other hand on her hip. “Where’s Dex?” she asks, her gaze cutting to the three guys.
“Don’t look at me,” Lucas grumbles from where he’s now leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone. “I haven’t seen him.”
“He’s late. Again. I told him last time that—”
“Chill, Naomi. Shit.”
That voice.
I don’t look up at first, though I see movement in my peripheral vision, a figure darkening the doorway.
“You know we have a tight schedule,” Naomi snaps back.
“Yeah, and I also know we’re the biggest name you produce for, so unless you wanna go back to kissing ass for Nickelback . . .”
Naomi lets out an aggravated huff, and when I finally look up, her dark eyes are narrowed and her arms are crossed over her chest.
Sebastian and Lucas chuckle under their breath, but Michael looks appropriately shamefaced. No wonder he’s the married one.
My gaze drifts to the right, and standing just over Michael’s shoulder is Dex. He’s got on dark sunglasses and a backward hat, and his lips tip up when I finally look at him.
“What’s up?” he says.
God, I hate when people ask that. I never know what to say. Are you supposed to say “what’s up” back, or are they actually asking what’s up with you?
I figure saying less is the safer option, so I settle for “Hey.”
Naomi takes a seat in front of the mixer while Dex pulls off his sunglasses. He’s got Kobain vibes—long blond hair, stubble on his chin—but with a rougher edge. He’s wearing a baggy black hoodie and tight black jeans, and when he hangs his sunglasses from the neck of his hoodie, I notice the tattoos and rings on his fingers.
I suddenly think about how the rest of his body is tattooed, and it makes my face heat up, so I look quickly away. That thought is very much off-limits.
The producers give us direction, but the guys seem to be barely listening. I take in every word they say while simultaneously trying to keep my hands from shaking with nerves. When the band heads into the sound booth, I take a moment to pull out my violin, rosin up my bow, and catch my breath.
“Hey,” Naomi says before I can step into the booth. “You’re gonna do great in there. Don’t let those losers get you down.” She smiles, and her teeth are gleaming white against her dark skin.
“Thanks,” I whisper. Holding my violin close, I head into the booth.
The band’s instruments were already waiting here, so all Sebastian has to do is pull his drum sticks out of his back pocket while the other three grab their instruments off their stands and sling them over their shoulders. Dex plays a quick riff on his electric guitar, and it’s so loud I startle when he strums the first chord. He must notice, because he gives me a sideways smile, his lip ring catching the overhead light.
“Do you need to tune up, Nora?” Naomi asks through the speaker, and I nod.
I tuned before I left the house, but jostling along in the car could’ve caused the strings to slip and become untuned.
Beside me, Dex plays an A on his guitar, and I glance over at him before bowing the A string and making slight microadjustments with the fine tuners. I run through the other three strings, then give a small nod.
Most of my morning was spent ensuring I’d memorized the piece, and now I’m extremely grateful for it, because no one else in the band has sheet music in front of them, and no one seemed to think to provide it for me.
Score one for my incessant need to anxiously plan and prepare.
“All right, here’s how this is gonna go,” Wes says. He walks us through the process, though I expect he’s just doing it for my benefit. “Got all that?”
I nod again. Seems like all I can do, given my lips are glued together with nerves.
“Let’s do it.”
The guys shift around me, stepping up to different microphones. I look down at the one in front of me and remind myself not to bump it while I’m playing. Behind me, the drum set is surrounded by multiple mics, all pointing in slightly different directions. There are big rugs underfoot, I’m assuming to dampen the sound, and a few stools, though no one’s using one.
“No pressure on this first playthrough, Nora,” Naomi says. “Ease into it.”
“That’s what she said,” Lucas mumbles, and Sebastian laughs from his seat at the drum set.
We’re doing a full playthrough first, just to get a feel for it, and then the producers said we’ll track instruments individually. I don’t understand about half of what they say, so I just keep nodding and waiting for someone to tell me when I’m supposed to play.
“Here we go,” Wes says.
Everyone gets ready. I adjust my grip on my bow and take a breath.
Then they’re counting us in, and the song starts with bass and drums. Michael nods his head as he plays, and Sebastian has a focused look on his face as he pounds out the first and third beats of the four-four rhythm on the kick drum.
Lucas and Dex come in next. Without meaning to, I watch Dex intently, drawn in by the way his fingers move across the strings. Dex glances up at me, and after meeting his gaze briefly, I turn quickly away.
My intro is coming up in six measures, five, four . . .
I lift my bow to the strings and home in on the notes the others are playing.
