Page 8 of No More Love Songs

“No worries, man. I get it. When the fire’s lit, you keep feeding that flame.” I let my eyes roll toward the ceiling and the house beyond with all its sleeping inhabitants above us. “Besides, Ari’s at a friend’s house having a sleepover, so it didn’t take much to adjust the schedule.”

He’s about to respond when the door to the booth swings open and Skylar Thompson comes stomping out.

“I can’t believe you boss me around and then don’t even stick around to listen to the results.” Then her personality turns on a dime and she smiles about the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen as she strolls straight for me, hand stretched out. “You must be Kit. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Grayson says you’re the best there is.”

I laugh. “And here I thought I was just the most convenient.” I take her hand for a proper greeting. “And the pleasure’s all mine. I’m honored y’all thought of me for this album. I’m sure it’ll be the best I’ve been invited to play on to date.”

Her smile holds until she turns back toward Grayson where it falters all over again. “What makes him convenient? He live next door or something? First person to answer an ad you posted in the local Facebook group? What?”

“We met at toddler gymnastics when Finn was three. And it wasn’t convenience that brought us together, it was sheer luck,” Grayson says, eyes bugging out the way they always do when he finds someone annoying. Right now, I think Skylar and I may be tied for that spot. “Kit’s downplaying his skills. Trust me, you’ve never heard anything like it.”

She eyes me skeptically. For a moment I think Gray’s word may not hold up as much as he’d like. Then she breaks into a smile again. “Alright. Let’s go have some fun together.” She rubs her hands together in anticipation, then freezes up out of nowhere. “I’m going to need more coffee.”

Gray shakes his head. “You don’t need more coffee. You need a nap. Go take one while Kit and I go over the song and work out the first round of kinks.”

She scowls as she moves past us toward an extra-large bean bag chair, grumbling, “There are no kinks in my song.”

“I think he might have meant my playing,” I tell her, trying not to grin. It’s a little surreal seeing the same woman who usually commands a stage and an audience of thousands curl up in a ball in a bean bag to take a nap. Especially when you take in the sight of her mismatched socks and the three pencils stuck in the back of her messy hairdo. When I don’t think she can even hear us anymore, I turn back to Grayson, “Y’all been at this all night?”

“Actually, since dinner the day before yesterday.” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands. “Sky started sometime the day before. I don’t really know. She gets so buzzed from caffeine and creativity, it’s hard to tell when she enters a state of total delirium from lack of sleep.”

“You sure you don’t want a little shuteye, too? I don’t mind running the song on my own a few times to get comfortable with it,” I offer.

“Nah, I get plenty of cat naps along the way when she zones out tweaking and rewriting songs she’s sworn up and down were done already.” He smirks.

“Kind of like the one I’m about to play that doesn’t have any kinks left in it?” I joke, slowly starting for the sound booth.

“Exactly like that one.” He starts to slide his headphone back into place. “Sheet music’s on the piano. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

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