Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
A few loops in, Kai starts playing a bassline that perfectly complements Titus’s riff. In fact, it makes the damned thing pop and sizzle in a whole new way.
“Oooooooh, that’s sick,” Savage says, perking up. “Give me a beat, KC. I’ve got an idea.”
I grab my laptop and find a looped beat at the right tempo—one I’ll surely replace or at least supplement with live drums, when the time comes, if this seed of an idea ever blooms into an actual Fugitive Summer song.
Not surprisingly, my contribution takes Titus’s and Kai’s playing to a whole new level. Because that’s what beats do. They make everything musical sound better. Sicker. Cooler. And after feeling the groove for a minute, Savage strums his guitar in a way that fills out the existing sounds, which then prompts Laila to excitedly slide behind her baby grand in the corner and start adding some tasty chords.
Not to be outdone, Ruby starts adding some riffs and accents on the mini-keyboard in her lap. But even better than that, she starts humming some melodic gibberish as our topline—and, suddenly, it feels like we’re barreling toward an actual song here. A great one, in fact.
We all agree we’re cooking with gas now as our jam session gains momentum and Ruby’s vocal melodies start to solidify and take hold.
“So, what’s this song about?” Savage asks, as everyone continues jamming. Ruby’s melodies are a slam dunk. But since she’s singing gibberish, rather than actual words, it’s now time for us to decide the direction we want to go with the lyrics, so we can fill in the syllables with something that makes sense. But that, in turn, hinges on the emotional vibe of this budding song.
“I’m getting anger,” Titus says, still playing his riff on a loop.
“More like angst,” Ruby supplies.
The whole room agrees with Ruby. Yes. Angst. That’s it.
“Sexual frustration?” Savage asks, and everyone laughs, because of course that’s Savage’s take on the vibe. But also, yeah, he’s kind of right. That’s definitely in there, too.
“‘Why the fuck can’t I get what I want?’” Kai offers. “That’s the vibe I’m getting. ‘I want this so badly, and I can’t have it. Why, why, why?’”
“Love it,” Laila says. “I feel that, too.”
As everyone agrees with Laila, Ruby gasps loudly and stops playing. “Kendrick, can I speak to you for a sec? Privately, on the balcony?”
Without waiting for a reply, she slides her mini-keyboard off her lap and pops up, and off she goes, like a woman possessed.
Outside, I close the sliding door behind us. It’s early afternoon, and the sun is glimmering off the nearby ocean. A gentle breeze is rustling our hair. It’s a relaxing scene, but Ruby looks far from relaxed. In fact, she looks amped up in a way I’ve seen many, many times before. The muse is calling to her. There’s no doubt about it.
“What’s up, baby?”
“I didn’t want to say this in front everyone,” she says, practically bouncing up and down. “But when I was singing that melody, the only words I could hear in my head were yours.”
I tilt my head, not understanding.
“From ‘Spark!’” she shouts.
“What? No, Ruby.”
“You have to admit those lyrics would fit perfectly with the vibe of this song. At least, as a starting point.”
I shift my weight. We’ve never used my words as the starting point for a whole-ass song before. We’ve used snippets of my ideas, here and there, but nothing like this. And we’ve certainly never used words I’d written privately, while in a weird trance, while secretly losing my mind with jealousy and yearning for the girl I’ve loved for twelve years, a girl who happens to be one of my bandmates who’d have to play this song, live, for God knows how many years to come. “Wouldn’t you feel embarrassed to have my words out there in the world?”
“Embarrassed? No. I’d be proud.”
“But it’s obvious the whole thing is about you. Also, wouldn’t it be weird for Savage to sing my words about you?”
Ruby looks wholly unbothered. “Savage sings all our words, all the time. And some of them were my honest, vulnerable thoughts at one point. Honestly, it’s always a source of pride for me to see him re-interpreting my most honest feelings and making them his own. He’s so good at it.” She’s got a point. Savage always sings them so convincingly, it’s like he wrote the damned words himself.
Ruby takes my hand. “I don’t want you feeling pressured. This is your decision, completely. But don’t make your decision based on protecting me. I’d feel nothing but electrified if the world heard your words about me.”
“Electrified?” The description is a huge surprise to me. “Why?”
“Kendrick, nobody’s ever written a song about me before. It’s the coolest, swooniest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I press my lips together. Seems like she’s conveniently forgetting Cooper’s song. Not to mention, she’s dated several musicians. Not a single one of those dickheads wrote a song about her? I find that hard to believe.