Page 32 of One Last Verse

The rear of the building was in a narrow, unkempt alley lined by dumpsters with chipped paint. A thick layer of grime covered the rough pavement. I parked next to a limo that took up three spots and looked around to make sure neither the pap nor the kids had followed me. The coast was clear. Only two security guards and a studio employee on a smoke break, all of whom I knew well at this point, were in the alley. Tossing a casual greeting at everyone, I made a beeline for the door. Then the moment I stepped into the hallway, I heard Frank’s voice. The notes bled through the walls, pulsing through the stuffy air, filling the hollow parts of the space with bliss.

The music was unfamiliar. Isabella’s vocals blended with his in the most exquisite way one person could complement the other. She was a rough wave against his elegant tenor and a trail of goosebumps rushed across my skin.

I felt my heartstrings come undone in my chest.Snap. Snap.One after the other. My pulse tripped. My knees were suddenly soft like Jell-O.

I had to stop for a second to catch my breath. The duet was stunning. The lyrics and the instruments were muffled, but I knew it there and then. This, the way their voices melded, was pure emotion. Raw. Powerful. Unstoppable.

I heard Brooklyn rattling off something before she entered the hallway, interrupting the music. Standing across the way with the phone pressed to her ear, she waved at me, her face tense as always.

I shot her an inaudible hello and carefully pulled the studio door open to sneak inside with as little disturbance as possible.

The room felt at least twenty degrees hotter than the hall. I didn’t know if it was because of all the people gathered here or because of Frank. He sat in a chair in front of the drum kit, broken shoulder secured inside the sling, hair slightly disheveled, posture sharp, despite last night’s drinking spree. A microphone stood nearby. A sheet of paper lay on his lap. Isabella was right next to him. Concentrating solely on the words, they weren’t paying attention to their surroundings. This was an instrumental break and the music wrapped around me like a warm balm, each note a pleasant prick to my skin. Story grinned from ear to ear while strumming through the chords on his guitar. Andy and Kit looked completely frazzled.

The light on Levi’s camera that was positioned on the opposite side of the room blinked red, which meant the session was being recorded. He and Ashton hung in the corner. I tiptoed to the couch and took a seat next to Maria. My heart thundered.

Frank hadn’t said anything about being here today. He hadn’t left the house since his release from the hospital. This change of heart was sudden and strange after yesterday’s very depressing conversation. Part of me feared facing him now that those words had been said.

The instrumental break ended and Frank reached for the microphone and laid on more vocals.

The fusion of music and his voice sliced through me like a hot knife through butter. The drums pounded in my temples along with my own blood. My entire body was a mad surge of electricity, a crackling entity. A cloud of adrenaline, endorphins, and other hormones that were unknown to humanity.

My gaze darted between Isabella and Frank as I watched them trade off notes and lines. They were mesmerizingly beautiful in their brokenness. She was an invisible force and he was a kind mentor. His face looked thin and void of color under the harsh stream of overhead lights. Dark shadows beneath his eyes gave away the anxiety and the weight of his emotional turmoil, but there was a genuine smile on his lips. It brightened his features. It brightened the entire room and set my poor hammering heart on fire.

He didn’t notice me until the song came to an end. The music stopped and a scattered but very enthusiastic round of applause filled the room.

“How about that, huh?” Frank grinned at Isabella, fumbling with the paper.

There was no doubt they were musically compatible. I still shivered from the abandon of feelings I’d experienced but had yet to decipher.

She grinned back. “I might have a spot for you in my band.”

“I’ll take it. I’m pretty good at back-up.”

Everyone laughed. Frank was his normal charming self. His eyes landed on my face. “Nice of you to join us, Cassy.” He smiled, his expression playful.

Our gazes danced an invisible dance, and I felt his remorse and his apology. I wasn’t sure he remembered everything that had been said and done last night, but I forgave him there and then. Seeing how music transformed him and how much joy it brought into his life made me happy.

Nothing else mattered.

The rehearsal ran late. Frank was on a roll, so he sang a few more songs—one of Isabella’s originals and three covers—before finally stepping aside.

Around nine, Brooklyn pulled me into the hallway and broke the news.

“There’s a huge crowd outside.”

“Shit. What do we do?” Cold panic twisted my gut. I wasn’t prepared for the press.

She cleared her throat and said, “Ask Frank.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t it part of your job?” I hissed, gawking at her.

“It’s whatever he wants to do.”

With my heart in my throat, I returned to the studio, where the band had already started to pack. Everyone said their goodbyes, and although Frank was pale with exhaustion, his voice was the loudest in the buzz of excited chatter that went around the room.

Ashton and Levi were putting away their gear. Brooklyn paced. The entire building felt as if it had been turned upside down.

Finally, after all was said and done, the band poured into the hallway. Cases with equipment rattled while shrieks of laughter bounced between the paraphernalia-lined walls. Maria and Levi were the last ones to leave. Ashton stood outside the door, waiting.

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