Starting From Here (Starting From #3) - Lane Hayes Page 0,27

want to owe you anything. Not a dollar or a minute of time. The only way this can work is if we operate on an equal system. A barter system. I’ll do something for you if you do something for me. Get it?”

I rolled my eyes. “God, you’re a piece of work. What do you propose?”

“A simple visit to the house should do the trick. Maybe in the next couple of weeks. Yesterday went well and she’s feeling fine, but we’ll have to play it by ear.”

“Okay. Anytime. Just let me know.”

“All right. So, shall we get started on your stupid song?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s freaking amazing.”

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with. One last thing…the other night never happened.”

“I can barely remember it,” I lied.

Tegan bumped my shoulder and smiled, then set his mug in the sink and turned away. “See you in the studio.”

I didn’t move for a minute or two. I mulled over his request, thinking it was pretty damn sad that we’d resorted to carefully orchestrated bargaining. However, it wasn’t anything I could change overnight. Maybe someday. Tegan couldn’t hate me forever, could he?

Later that day, I was the one who hated him.

Nothing was right. Tegan didn’t like the harmony and claimed he couldn’t get the beat to fit my arrangement.

“You’ve got to tweak the chorus. Maybe something like this.” Tegan tapped a rhythm, adding a fill in between the notes.

“That’s good.” Bobby J nodded, then bent over his guitar, strumming along and embellishing a few licks.

And yes, it sounded better, but that wasn’t what I wanted. Wait. Of course, that was what I wanted. Maybe I just wished it were my idea. Or maybe I wished the guy spouting genius suggestions wasn’t such an ass. I hadn’t expected to sit and record the song in ten minutes, but at the rate we were going, this would take a week.

Tegan wanted to get a feel for Gill’s and Bobby J’s styles first, which, okay…made sense. We spent an hour playing classic rock songs from Led Zeppelin, The Stones, and The Eagles until I suggested playing a few Jealousy tunes. I’d forgotten how fucking quick he was. T had a supple mind and a natural ear for music. I was actually excited to get started on the song, but he wanted to dissect it like a biology experiment.

“I like it, but I’m not interested in reworking the whole song. Let’s try it again without changing that note in the middle of the chorus. Ready?” I adjusted my acoustic guitar on my knee and glanced over at Stella, propped on a stand near the sofa. I considered taking a break to restring her, but it felt like we finally had some momentum, and I didn’t want to mess with it. I tapped the body of my guitar as I counted us in, strumming the first few notes before cluing in that no one was following my lead. “What’s the problem?”

“No problem here,” Tegan said, slipping his drumsticks into his back pocket as he stood. “But I’m out of time.”

“You’re out of time?” I repeated, fighting past the haze of irritation.

“My guys need me next door. Let’s try again tomorrow.”

He slapped high fives with Gill and Bobby J while I internally seethed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Damn him. I bit the inside of my cheek hard and willed myself not to say anything I’d regret. It wasn’t easy.

Tegan called my name from the doorway.

“What’s up?”

He grinned. “Same time tomorrow, boss?”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

I flashed a phony smile, then flipped him off when he gave me a thumbs up. Tegan threw his head back and laughed before finally leaving.

Deep breaths. Reset tomorrow.

4

Tegan

Yanking Declan’s chain was more fun than I remembered. And so damn easy. He grumbled about the donuts I bought for the band to apologize for my abrupt departure yesterday…and yes, to shamelessly win them over to Team T.

Hey, this might be a small side job and a favor exchange, but it was also business. I’d been in bands long enough to know that the drummer played an integral part in making everything work. If I didn’t make an effort with Bobby J and Gill, they wouldn’t trust me, and it might come through in the recording. I didn’t want my name tied to a stilted, throwaway tune. And that would be a true shame because Dec was right about including “The Magic” on the album. It was good.

No, it was great. Soulful, sexy, bluesy. It was the kind of song that