and I alternated between playing some of my favorites, most of which ended up being the songs Raf had written, because I was just that pathetic, and the songs that had gotten me into music in the first place.
It occurred to me that it was the first time I’d actually enjoyed playing anything in a long damn time. Too bad it wasn’t the instrument I got paid to play in front of people.
Maybe that was it. Maybe it was easier because I knew no one would ever hear me. It felt good, just playing for the hell of it, so I decided to try something else I hadn’t done in a long time. I hadn’t sung anything other than the occasional background track in years, and even though I was completely alone, it still took effort to overcome the awkwardness and start singing. It took me a while to find my voice, but while I was already indulging my own private cringe session, I decided I might as well get it all out.
The words came easier than they did when I was writing. It figured I couldn’t do anything right unless I wasn’t trying.
It also figured nearly every line was about Raf.
Before I even knew it, a whole three hours had elapsed--mostly just me rambling to the simple melodies that came out of nowhere. I realized when I finished that I had completely forgotten I was recording. I groaned. I was gonna have to delete the whole thing now. Maybe I could figure out a way to save the first bit and split the recording up somehow. I closed the recording app out, since I had plenty of time to figure it out.
Plenty of time for everything now.
Chapter 8
Rafael
I had realized something in the last two days: recording without Chaz was kind of like eating at a buffet without a sense of taste. I could do it, but my heart really wasn’t in it. Before Dante got sober, his tantrums in the recording studio had kept things lively if unpleasant, but now he was Serious Business.
On the one hand, I was relieved because it was a hell of a lot easier to get actual work done when I didn’t have to constantly worry about him. On the other, Cash was the one he joked around with now, and the new guy was okay, but nowhere near as fun as Chaz. We couldn’t even make fun of the overt PDAs going on in the booth.
The day pretty much dragged, and the fact that Friday was coming didn’t help. I kept convincing myself Chaz would change his mind in the interim, or that things would be super weird between us if he actually went through with it.
What if we just didn’t have that kind of chemistry? Yeah, we were all over each other, but fucking around wasn’t the same as a master-sub dynamic. And I wasn’t even sure if I should try to ease him into things first, or go right for the pup play. I didn’t take subs who weren’t into the same shit anymore, but this wasn’t just anyone, it was Chaz.
Which was all the more reason to proceed with caution. Fuck, what if this messed everything up?
The sounds of an argument coming from the booth pulled me out of my head halfway through break. Cash and Dante never argued--well, not unless it was one of their weird foreplay things where Dante acted like a brat on purpose so Cash would scold him.
Nah, Dante was standing behind the mix panel with his arms folded, scowling at the studio bassist Cash had brought in. Judging from the way the guy was flailing his arms, it wasn’t just a friendly difference of opinion.
Cash was standing by, dead silent and awkward as hell. He’d intervene if he needed to, but he tried not to cross that line between Daddy and bandmate in professional situations, as hard as I could tell it was for him at times.
This was definitely one of those times.
“What’s up?” I asked, leaning into the booth in hopes of diffusing the situation. “We getting back to it or not?”
“We will be, as soon as Jake here stops being a diva about making a tiny fucking change,” said Dante.
I grimaced. So that was where we were at. Jake looked pissed as hell, so I had the feeling we were dealing with Smith 2.0. Then again, our former drummer had lasted a lot longer than two and a half days before he