Page 103 of Loaded

I’m not sure why that’s so scary, but it really and truly is. I was nervous about the jingle, but this might give me an ulcer. When Octavia knocks at the door, I’m relieved Jake’s not home. He left to meet his trainer twenty minutes ago. He makes most things harder.

I open the door slowly, but Octavia looks even more nervous than I do. Her eyes are darting around like she’s afraid she’ll be attacked. “Come on in,” I say.

“This isn’t what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” I raise my eyebrows.

She shrugs. “It’s just really. . .normal.”

“I’m a pretty normal person,” I say.

“But isn’t Jake your roommate?”

I laugh. “You know, Jake’s high profile, and he makes a lot of money, and he drives a flashy car, but down deep, he feels way happier here than he would anywhere else.”

“Because it’s normal.”

I nod slowly. “Jake doesn’t welcome people easily, but yes. He’s with family here, and I’m comfortable in this place, so he is, too.” I point at his door and Emerson’s. “Even so, I’d recommend you stay out of those two rooms. One is his room, and one is now his closet, and both of them are disastrously messy. He pays for a cleaning lady to come once a week, and I swear, she spends half her time in there washing, folding, and putting things away. The man is a pig.”

“I wonder how many views a video of Jake Priest’s messy room would get me on TikTok.”

“Quite a lot, I’m sure,” I say.

Thankfully, Octavia doesn’t seem like the kind of person who has a salacious TikTok account. I should keep an eye on Uncle Bentley and Aunt Barbara’s girls, Ricki and Nikki, though. I could totally see them posting something like that on theirs to boost their engagement.

After doing a few vocal runs to help her warm up, we actually try the song. She has a few suggestions, which are all good, and it’s more fun than I anticipated working with someone on a song instead of doing it myself. Mypiano teacher sometimes works with me, but more often than not, I’m either writing it myself or just cleaning up her messes. This is more collaborative, even more so than when Jake helps me with words, and I love it.

“Alright, so with those word shifts, and with the change to the harmony here?—”

“You need to sing the melody, though.” Octavia’s smiling now.

“I told you. I’ll play, but I don’t want to sing.”

“It’s the only way it works. It needs the complexity to elevate that line.”

I wish she was wrong. “Fine.” People rarely really listen to the alto line. It’ll mostly just blend in underneath hers, so it should be fine. “If we make it to the finals, I can sing from the back, in front of the piano.”

She doesn’t argue with me about that, thankfully, but it makes me think.

“Are you dreading it?” I ask. “Having all the eyes on you?”

She shrugs. “I used to spend half my life on a stage. I’ve been performing since I was a child.”

“But?”

She inhales slowly. “The shock and horror from every person who looks at me, it wears on me. I have to kind of prepare myself for it.”

“Shock and horror?” I can barely believe what she’s saying. “Who’s shocked and horrified?”

“Who isn’t?” She shrugs. “I get it. The first time I saw myself after it happened. . .” She shakes her head. “It’s not comfortable to look at something like my burn. People cringe. I think it makes them realize that all of us are vulnerable, fragile even. Our lives are not guaranteed.”

Holy wow, she’s right.

Ididcringe a little inside when I saw her. Not because I didn’t want to see her. Not because I thought she looked awful, but because I thought about how much it must have hurt, and how glad I was that I’d never had to endure something like that. “I’m really sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

“Thanks for caring, and for being honest.” Her half smile feels like forgiveness. It must be tiring having to forgive people all the time for their own inadequacies.

“Alright, I think we may be ready to record it,” I say. “Feel up to it? Submissions are due this Saturday at midnight.”

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