Читать книгу Crazy in Love - Crystal B. Bright - Страница 13

Chapter 5

“You’re right, Sull. Let’s get out of here.” Truman stomped back into the studio with his guitar case in his hand.

The confusion riddling his body had his head spinning. He hadn’t felt this out of sorts since high school when he dated the head cheerleader. Shauna couldn’t be described as a perky cheerleader. She hadn’t encouraged him. If anything, she got him thinking about other things like how good she smelled when he sat close to her on the couch, and how he could feel the heat coming from her body. Was she actually staring at his mouth at one point? Did she want to kiss him? Did he want to kiss her?

Oh, hell.

He threw the case down and went over to Ervin’s drum set to tear it down. He hadn’t gone to a recording studio. He’d stepped into a circus complete with a ringleader. Craig pushed them together like a meddling mother. As much as Truman wanted to hate the treatment, the close proximity got them to stop bickering about music and actually look at each other. He had to admit, the stripped down and vulnerable version of Shauna looked as appealing as the glammed-up one.

“What’s going on?” Confusion covered Charlie’s face.

“She said something stupid, didn’t she?” Sully rested his forearm on the neck of his guitar as he watched Truman pack his things together.

“Will you shut up, idiot?” Ervin threw his drumstick at the back of Sully’s head. “What’s the deal, Tru? Why you want to split?”

Truman couldn’t explain his feelings. It didn’t make sense. One moment, he came into this situation preparing to be professional and accommodating. Then he found himself bickering with the woman who could jumpstart his career. By the end, he became mesmerized by her eyes and floral scent. He still remembered how her lips parted as she stared at him. Those full lips.

“Do we have to pay for studio time? Is that coming out of our money?” Tony pulled his notepad from his back pocket and wrote some calculations in it. As long as it kept him quiet, Truman felt content to let the man scribble away.

“This is a joke, man.” Truman scratched his head. He turned to the guys. “I said pack it up, fellas, and let’s roll.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Sully unhooked his guitar from the amplifier.

When Truman heard the pop it made after Sully disconnected it, he equated the sound with quitting and failure. He’d never quit at anything, but staying there and working with Shauna had him nervous that he would do something foolish…like think with “Little Truman” again.

“Wait.” Ervin held up his hands. “This is our dream, guys. I’m not sure what happened. You know I always have your back, Tru. But I’m not willing to pack it in over nothing.”

Truman kept his face straight. “She—” He couldn’t finish what he wanted to say.

What could he say? She looked incredible without a stitch of makeup on her face? Her body had his fingers tingling because he wanted to touch her? Or that he loved the idea that she stared at his lips for a while?

Ervin put his hand on Truman’s shoulder. “Like coach said, walk it off.” He smiled.

When Truman looked through the glass into the control room, he found Shauna sitting at the control board next to a large man he hadn’t seen before.

Truman’s stomach tied in a knot knowing how much valuable studio time they wasted because he couldn’t control his emotions. Shauna Stellar was just a woman. He had to treat recording their album as a job. As Ervin suggested, he did need to cool down.

“Let’s take five and regroup.” Truman’s suggestion should have been geared to himself instead of his band.

Once the guys left the studio, he went inside the control booth.

“Hey.” He approached Shauna.

“Truman Woodley,” she began, “this is Hank, the sound engineer. He’ll be here with us while we record.”

“Nice to meet you.” Truman put out his hand, but Hank kept his attention on the boards for a while before he finally acknowledged him and shook his hand with his meaty one.

“The guys and I are going to take a quick five before we start, okay?” He jutted his thumb over his shoulder.

She nodded again.

He turned but then her statement stopped him. “I like your songs.”

Truman returned his attention to her. “You looked at them already?”

Shauna spun in her seat to face him. “Did you write all of these?”

“Except for the one called ‘Beer and More Beer.’ Ervin wrote that after a hard night of partying.” He snickered, distinctly remembering when Ervin sang the hook to him after vomiting his guts out.

“I have some suggestions on changes if you don’t—”

Truman cut her off. “I do. I wrote every word for a reason. No changes are needed.”

Before the situation turned sour again, Truman walked out. He needed some space and a second to figure out how this woman got into his head so quickly.

* * * *

How could a man who managed to penetrate her soul from one look get so defensive about words? In her career, Shauna tweaked words to songs she’d been given all the time. As long as people bought the songs, what did it matter that she changed some of the lyrics?

As Shauna read the lyrics to each of Truman’s songs, she got an understanding of the man underneath the worn out baseball cap. One song talked about meeting that special woman. He had another song that detailed the perfect day, complete with an impromptu baseball game with his friends, drinking beer by a swimming hole, and ending it with his woman by his side. Then he had a song that talked about someone special to him.

After Raheem dumped her, and her public meltdown, men looked at her as damaged goods. Even Craig echoed those sentiments with his latest Instagram picture. The idea plagued her thoughts, even during her stay at Peaceful Acres. She could never get over that stigma. Truman probably thought the same thing when he bolted from her after taking the picture.

It used to offend her when she would be in the pages of men’s magazine as a woman they saw as hot and sexy. She worked hard to be more than just a pretty face. Now she would pay any money she had left to be seen as desirable.

She shuffled the songs around, arranging them into an order she thought would work for the album. She had to admit that Truman had some great music. Maybe she could convince Craig to scrap the duet idea. At least not for this album, and especially not with her.

She took a deep breath and caught the strong cigarette scent coming from the control room. She found Hank sitting in a swirl of smoke.

“There’s no smoking in here, ever.” Shauna’s breathing increased but she tried to keep that and her cool in control.

She would not be working in cigarette smoke. The scent smelled awful. Even if she never sung another note for the rest of her life, the smoke hurt her throat.

“I’ve always smoked.” Hank managed to speak while keeping the cigarette pinched between his lips on the side. “It helps me work.” The burly man with the bushy beard didn’t bother looking her way when he spoke, just like how he treated Truman.

“It doesn’t help me work and I own this business. Put it out.” She didn’t want to throw her trump card down but this man forced her to do it. If he didn’t straighten up, she would boot his behind out of the whole production.

Hank snickered at her and dropped the lit cigarette into his cup of coffee.

“Now find some fans and clear out the stench in this room.” She stood at the doorway. “It’s bad enough the place smells like pot. I guess my mother just let anyone come in to record.”

Hank walked by Shauna as he peered down at her. “You got that right.”

No one would intimidate her. At least not in her studio. She sat outside of the control booth and waited for Hank to come back with a fan. Glancing at her watch, a staggered sigh forced its way from her mouth when it hit her how much studio time they’d lost. How in the world would she have a song ready for the record label in a few hours?

Her heart pounded. She blinked several times to regain clarity on her blurred vision.

Come on. Don’t do this. Keep it together.

She exhaled, shook her head, and tried focusing on the lyrics to the song called “Reeling” she wanted the group to start working on once they finished their break. Looking at the music, it looked like a nice mid-tempo piece that would put the group on the map. She still couldn’t hear the music.

After springing from the couch, she sauntered into the recording studio where the group left their instruments. She stared at the piano in the corner of the room. It looked more daunting than when she’d taken her first step outside of Peaceful Acres.

Why did the idea of playing the piano again scare her? She started playing at the age of four. Some days touching the keys gave her more comfort than talking to her mother. Being an only child, the piano often became the sibling she wished she had.

Shortly after taking a seat, Shauna put both hands on the keys, looked at the music, and started playing. Her fingers tripped over some of the notes. She cursed under her breath and tried the song again. Each time she got better and better.

Her shoulders relaxed as her fingers moved over the instrument. The knot that had formed in her stomach before she sat down disappeared the longer she played. She’d reach nirvana without chanting.

When she opened her mouth to sing, she saw Truman standing at the doorway into the recording studio. Her hands froze over the keys as she stared at him. She swallowed as she tried getting a handle on what must have been going through his mind to hear her butchering his song.

She cleared her throat as she stood. “I think this song should be the one we work on first.” She attempted to sound professional as she handed him his original copies back. “This one has chart appeal and the right tempo.”

Truman took the sheets from her as she walked by him.

“You sounded good over there.” He spoke to her in a soothing voice as she made it to the doorway.

Shauna turned to him. She kept her face straight in case he didn’t mean what he’d said.

“That’s kind of how I envisioned the song sounding.” He sat the music on a stand, crouched down, and picked up his guitar again. “Good to see we’re on the same page.” He cleared his throat. “At least for this song.”

She would take that small step for now. “We’ve lost a lot of studio time.” As much as she wanted to smile and thank him, she didn’t want to get sucked into his nice-guy routine until she knew his angle.

He hung his guitar strap on his shoulder. “Break time is over. Are you ready?”

Her mouth went dry. She clasped her hands together to hide her fear. “Let’s do this.”

The rest of the band bounded back to the room, excited and exuberant at three in the morning. They must have gotten a lot of sleep.

“Let’s rock ‘n roll.” Ervin retrieved his drumsticks from the floor and made his way behind his modest drum set.

“Guys, we’re doing ‘Reeling’ first. Let’s do a couple of practice runs before we lay the track.” Truman’s commanding nature had his band falling in line.

Shauna took that as her cue to go into the control room. To hear the music better, she turned off the loud fan as she sat with Hank at the boards.

“Let’s take it from the top, boys.” Truman nodded with each tap Ervin made on his drumsticks.

“Before you start, gentlemen, do you need anything in there?” Shauna hated to interrupt the flow, but she wanted to hear perfection. “Some artists like candles burning, pictures of loved ones, stuffed animals.” She loved burning blackberry-scented candles.

“Lady, we’re in a recording studio, not a slumber party.” Sully sneered at her through the glass separating them.

She gritted her teeth. Sully wouldn’t break her.

“You know, I’ve always wanted pictures of the kids in front of me when I played.” Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He set it up on a nearby easel and smiled as he stared at it.

Truman patted his pocket but didn’t retrieve anything. Maybe he had a picture of a girlfriend or wife he wanted to view but didn’t in front of Shauna. Now she couldn’t stop staring at his pants for a different reason.

“Fine. I don’t care if you want the whole family in the recording studio. We need to play.” Sully strummed an angry chord on his guitar.

“Then tell me about the song you’re about to sing.” She spread her hand over the lyrics.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sully groaned and leaned his head back.

She could feel his frustration rising through the control booth glass. She had a job to do and she knew what worked.

“Tell me what ‘Reeling’ is about.” Shauna directed her attention to Truman.

“If it gets us recording faster.” Truman slung his guitar behind him.

Even angry Truman looked good. His brown eyes narrowed, his chest pumped up, and his lips looked tight. Not exactly kissable but definitely interesting. He started to get a morning stubble around his goatee. That made him even hotter.

“The song is about when you first meet that special person. It’s when you get the butterflies in your belly and loss of appetite. And when you finally get to kiss that person for the first time, you’re just in heaven. You’re reeling.”

Shauna hadn’t noticed her mouth had hung open as she listened to him until Hank coughed. “Is this song about someone in your life now?” She attempted to make the question sound as innocent but professional as possible, but below the layer of her query bubbled a hint of curiosity, maybe even jealousy.

Truman looked around at his band members. He faced forward and said, “No. Not anymore. It’s an older song but a fan favorite.”

She exhaled and smiled. “Ordinarily I would tell you to sing the song to that person. It helps gives soul to your lyrics.”

“Hell, Tru, just sing it to her so we can get on with this.” Sully pointed to Shauna.

She stared at Truman as he made his way to the microphone. As he sang she noticed he moved his head around a lot as though he sang on a stage.

Thank goodness they weren’t recording yet. The recording would have been worthless only because of his constant movement.

The man sang with so much heart; Shauna felt it from her seat. Chills covered her body until she felt like one big goose bump. She rubbed her hand up and down her arm as she looked over the lyrics as he sang. It didn’t help that the man oozed sex.

In his loose-fitting T-shirt and his worn jeans, Truman looked confident and strong, attractive qualities in any man.

She made some notes on the lyrics, some changes she thought would work better in the song. Then she thought about how she would present these changes to a very protective Truman. He’d nearly bitten her head off earlier when she’d tried altering his lyrics.

At the end of the song, Truman and his band talked among themselves. From their smiles, they must have liked the sound and arrangement. Now came the hard part.

She turned on the mic to talk to them in the booth.

“Good take, boys. Let’s can it.” Hank spoke before she could say a word.

She turned to the burly mess. “What did you just say to them?”

Hank snorted, not like he was being insolent but because he breathed that way normally. “It sounded good. Why have them play it over and over again?”

“For one thing, I’m producing. Point two, Truman said this was a rehearsal, and he wasn’t near the mic for half the song. It’ll sound amateurish.” Shauna knew Craig had to have been watching this whole display, but she wouldn’t back down. She would want someone to stand up and say something didn’t sound right if she had been in the booth recording. Actually, she did have that person in her life.

She glanced at Craig who winked at her, his way of letting her know he backed her decision. She set in her jaw and kept her gaze on Hank. The big man finally turned away from her and tinkered with the knobs and controls on the boards.

She turned on the microphone again. “Let’s hear that song one more time.”

She saw Sully and Charlie’s shoulders ease down. Ervin’s eyes lit up like she’d given them a million dollars. Truman looked confused.

“Was there something wrong in there? I know I said this would be a practice run, but it sounds like the engineer liked it.” Truman questioned her as though he’d failed her.

She bit the inside of her cheek and counted to ten before she spoke. “No. Everything’s fine. I want to get different takes. We can mesh the best takes together.”

Truman nodded but his confused expression contradicted his compliance.

“This time, Truman, I need for you to stand right at the microphone.” Shauna held her palm up to her face to mimic how Truman should stand. “I want to hear your voice clearly.”

Truman glanced at Hank who only shrugged.

She ignored their unspoken conversation and continued. “Also, what do you think about changing the line ‘You’re the right one for me’ to ‘You’re the one I need’?”

Sully groaned so loud Shauna would have been able to hear it with the microphones off.

“She’s doing it, Tru.” Sully pointed to Shauna. “I thought you said she wasn’t going to change our music.”

“She’s not.” Truman looked over the lyrics.

His icy stare momentarily stunned Shauna.

Instead of buckling, she pressed on. “The flow will go better if you make that change. Why not try it for the next take.” She tapped her fingers. Her nails clicked against the surface while he whispered something to Sully.

Without answering her, Truman started playing the song over again. The strong chords showed Truman’s anger. He kept his mouth right at the microphone but kept his eyes closed. When the line she wanted him to change came up, he sang it…the same way he’d written it.

Shauna’s shoulders tightened. Her neck felt stiff. If she felt this wound up this early in the production, she would be a complete mess by the end.

Truman attempted to show her who would be head dog in this process. He probably thought she should have been happy that he obliged her on one point. Nope. Not having it. She wanted it done the right way, her way.

At the end of the song, Shauna turned on her microphone again. “Thanks for staying close to the mic this time. You can hear the difference.”

You catch more flies with honey.

Before speaking again, she took a breath first. “But I would still like you to try the song with the alternate line. If it doesn’t work, you can tell me ‘I told you so’ and I’ll agree.”

Truman moved close to the mic. “No. Every word I’ve written means something to me. I don’t want to change anything.”

She found the passion in his eyes. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t press forward to get her point across. She had a stake in this. “Let’s take a break.” Shauna clicked off the microphone.

“Good.” Hank lumbered to his feet. “I need a smoke.”

She stood. Before Craig or anyone else could criticize her performance, she slipped on her shoes and made her way to the roof. It had always been her favorite spot in the studio. She used to go there to sing if she had a hard time getting over a difficult passage. She especially liked to think up there. Right now she needed breathing room.

She burst through the door and found her familiar spot on the edge of the roof. She looked over and watched the waves crash against the beach.

The waves. They always put her life in perspective. She would have to learn to go with the flow, which didn’t fit her nature.

She needed to learn to flow with Truman. Learn to ride his waves. However, he needed to bend and for more than where to position his mouth.

Shauna gazed at the full moon. “Hey, Mom. I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked. I had to get myself together after you—” She couldn’t muster the strength to say the word. “I need help. I wish you were here. You made everything better, even when I took for granted that you would make my life easier.” She wrapped her arms around her body when a strong breeze came off the ocean. “You know this guy I’m working with now. You signed him. Did he give you this much trouble? If not, what am I doing wrong?”

Stars twinkled as though giving her a silent response. Like with everything else, she would need to figure this out on her own.

She stood, wiped off her backside, and made her way back downstairs. As soon as she hit the bottom landing she glanced toward the back door and saw Hank. He coughed and sputtered when he made eye contact with her. He pulled the cloudy pipe from his mouth and turned his back.

Shauna didn’t need to ask him what he had. Truman and his band didn’t deserve to be a part of someone else’s shortcomings. Shauna had been through that, and didn’t want to see anyone else suffer like she had.

The matter needed to be dealt with, but couldn’t right now. Shauna made her way to the studio and reclaimed her position. Hank arrived about ten minutes later smelling of soap, Lysol, and potpourri. He must have rolled in the crushed, dried flower products until he thought the stench had been covered. It didn’t matter. Not to Shauna.

After the band had played the song at least ten more times, the last time being the slowest and the sloppiest of the set, she called it a day. Truman never changed the line in any of the dozen times. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn.

“I’d say this went well, huh?” Craig nudged Shauna’s shoulder.

“Yeah, sure.” She gathered her things together. She wanted to go home, take a long bath, and crawl into bed. “Can’t wait to do this again in a few hours.”

“That’s the spirit.” Craig patted her back.

Shauna took a CD copy of the many takes. She would listen to them in her sleep.

“Did you make a copy of that for me?” Craig pointed to the jewel case she held. “I’ll need that for the meeting with the studio heads in New York.”

She smiled. “Let me find a really good version of the song and record that on a single disc for you.” She patted her manager on the shoulder like he’d done to her earlier. Craig stared at her for a moment as though he didn’t believe her. That might be a good reaction to have. For what Shauna had planned for her day today would surely piss him off.

“I want a copy by tonight, okay?”

She nodded. He would get his copy. If she had luck on her side, she would be bringing him back a lot more.

When Craig walked away from her, Shauna looked over at Hank. She had one thing to do before they left. She didn’t need to leave any loose ends.

“Hank, don’t leave yet. We need to talk.”