Rocked (The Everyday Heroes World) - Julia Wolf Page 0,93
dude named Calvin Robson. Only the artists who worked with him personally knew his true identity. Maybe that was because he was a funny-looking, balding, forty-something-year-old guy. When he donned his fucking horse head and skinny jeans and stood behind his mixer, he could have been a hipster twenty-something. It worked for him, so who was I to judge?
We sat opposite each other in leather swivel chairs, both with spiral notebooks in our laps. I’d expected a big entourage, producers, a nineties rap video vibe, but I got none of that. It was just the two of us, talking music.
“Here’s how I do things, Devon. I have a sound; you have a sound. I’m not trying to change you or bend you to my style. What I do is present you in a new way no one’s heard before.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “What’s your sound? Who the hell is Devon Chambers?”
With a deep sigh, my head tipped back. “What a fucking question.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that gets some people. Based on the circles under your eyes and your whole lost, vagabond vibe, I’m thinking it gets you. Tell me what story you want to tell.”
Lost…that was one word for it. My world tilted on its axis in seconds. I was in Sunnyville with Kat, wishing and hoping for more. I blinked, and I was in New York, shut out from the woman I’d fallen in love with. She’d told me no to more. No to trying. She’d told me to leave, and after that, how could I stay?
“My story is about scars. I’ve got one verse, but a world of shit to pull from.”
Calvin nodded, his pen tapping on his notebook. I could almost hear the synapses firing in his genius brain. “I can work the hell out of that idea. Give me your verse and let’s build.”
Stitch it and one day it’ll fade
You’ll never forget how it was made
One mistake until the end of days
Carry it with you always
I stumbled home to my apartment around midnight. I was dead on my feet, having written all day with Calvin—not only the song he’d be producing either. Once we got started, we couldn’t stop. With him, the words flowed. He was the real deal, not some hack, fly-by-night DJ.
For once, things were looking up professionally. At what cost, though? My heart felt like it had been through a meat grinder.
It wasn’t too late in California, so I texted Kat. If nothing else, I needed to check on Ellie. Leaving while she was still in the hospital hadn’t felt right, but Kat had final say, and if she wanted me gone, I had to respect that.
Me: Hey. How’s Ellie feeling?
It didn’t take her too long to reply.
Kat: She’s good. Thanks for checking in.
Me: That’s it? That’s all I get?
Kat: She was in the hospital for ten hours. Her swelling has gone down and today she’s extra tired from all the meds pumped into her. She’s sad she didn’t get to say goodbye to you. She would like to email you, if that’s all right with you.
Me: Of course it’s all right. Text, email, call. I’d love to hear from her.
Kat: Okay.
Me: I miss you, Lady. I can’t fucking believe I’m out in the cold again.
I waited and waited, but she never replied.
Three days later, I laid down vocals with Calvin. The cut was rough and unfinished, but it was the first song I’d recorded in over two years, and fuck if it didn’t feel good. We were calling it “Don’t Believe the Scars,” and it was somehow deeply personal while also danceable.
I was officially a Horse convert. He knew what he was doing and how to pull creativity from deep within my soul. We still had a couple more days to work on the song, but I felt so damn good about it.
The contrast of the way I felt in the studio versus my big, bland apartment was stark. I was empty inside. My stars had been snuffed out, and I didn’t like where I was. Not geographically or mentally.
I needed Kat like I needed my next breath. It took me leaving to realize just how integral she’d become to me.
The longing for a small connection with her overwhelmed me, so I picked up the phone and called her. She didn’t answer, and though I wasn’t surprised, I was disappointed as hell.
Me: You lied.
Kat: What the hell?
Me: You said you’d pick up if I called. Said you’d be my truth-teller.