Smitten - Lauren Rowe Page 0,17
blurt. “But going to Berklee, you must play in front of audiences all the time.”
“But I don’t play a 22 Goats song in front of a member of 22 Goats.”
“Fair enough.” I extend my hand again. “Okay, so, let’s go find a guitar so you can play me one of your originals.”
She’s a pale shade of green. Again, she doesn’t take my hand. She shakes her head. “I’d love to hear you sing a song to me, though. If anyone is going to play a song to anyone right now, it should be the professional playing one for the student.”
I sit back down, sighing. “I don’t do that.”
“You don’t do what?”
“Sing lead vocals on songs. That’s not my thing. I sing backups. Write songs, now and again, that I hand off to Dax to sing.”
“But you’ve got an amazing voice, Fish.”
“Thanks. I’m a good backup singer. I know my lane.”
She flashes me a look of incredulity, as if to say, If you say so.
She sips her water. “Well, if you’re not going to sing for me, then I’m perfectly happy to continue sitting here, talking to you.”
I can’t believe my ears. Doesn’t she realize, if she were to march inside that house and play for me—and maybe impress me enough—I could possibly, maybe, help her career? Granted, I haven’t helped anyone’s career yet. But in theory, I could. For instance, I might lobby Reed to give her music a listen, not that Reed would listen to me. To put it mildly, that guy doesn’t consider me a towering figure in his empire. But Alessandra doesn’t know that! For all she knows, Reed and I are tight as ticks, like Reed and Dax. For all she knows, I could be her ticket to making her dreams come true! Or, at least, a means of getting her one step closer. And she’s turning down the chance to try to impress me? It’s unthinkable.
“Okay, fourth album,” she says, filling our first awkward silence in a while. She taps her chin. “That’s another toughie. I guess, if you’re forcing me to pick, I’d have to go with . . . ‘Delightful Damage.’”
My heart stops.
I can’t believe it.
That song is the only one ever released by 22 Goats that was written entirely by me, with no input from Dax or Colin. Prior to that one, I’d always added my two cents to whatever songs Dax had created. Or, if I’d written something, Dax wound up changing parts of it for the better. But not with “Delightful Damage.” That one was all me, baby. Every word and note was written by me in one furious late-night session in a hotel room in Prague.
When I brought the song, fully written, to Dax and Colin the next day, they both blew me away by saying they loved the song, as is, and wanted to record it for our next album. And when Dax ultimately sang my words and haunting melody in the studio, and I heard my lyrics and emotions expressed by a true artist like him, I felt like weeping. I didn’t lend my voice to the song on the record—and rightly so—but I still felt in that moment, and still do, whenever I hear the recording, like that song marked my coming of age. And that’s the song Alessandra has chosen as her favorite off our fourth album?
“I can’t believe you picked that song as a favorite,” I manage to eke out.
She furrows her brow. “Why? It’s a masterpiece.”
“It wasn’t a big hit.”
Alessandra shifts onto her side on her lounger. “Yeah, well, it should have been. I love that it’s so different from your other songs, both melodically and lyrically. I love how honest and raw it is. It always hits me right here.” She touches her chest. “I love Dax’s voice on that one. It’s so full of angst. And I love the way your voice blends with his on those harmonies in the chorus. It’s definitely my all-time favorite 22 Goats song to sing. I love singing that one even more than ‘Three.’ It’s just so mesmerizing.”
Okay, I’m officially losing my shit here. I take a sip of beer to calm myself down before saying, “You’re not going to believe this, but ‘Delightful Damage’ is the only song in our entire catalog written completely by me, without any contribution from Dax or Colin.”
Her jaw drops. She sits up and whispers, “Oh my God, Fish. Matthew.” She reaches out and grabs my forearm. “You’re a