Page 217 of Burn Bright
“It’s a surprise.” He clasps my hand and climbs inside an SUV, tugging me in behind him.
I hug my messenger bag on my lap as the car peels out, his bodyguard driving. “If you weren’t Ben’s brother, you would have a face full of pepper spray, dude.”
His blue eyes fall to my bag. “Packing weapons? I thought you just tote around five-gallon tubs of Jolly Ranchers.”
“I could pelt you with candy too.”
He’s distracted, staring out the window. Squinting a ton to inspect a building, maybe. “Ian, you can stop here,” he instructs his bodyguard.
It shocks me how much I’m trusting someone beyond myself and Ben. The possibility of Tom playing a massive prank on me is low, though. He loves his little brother too much. But I do worry he’s going to rope me into trouble somehow.
I’m more surprised when we enter a recording studio. “Tom?” I drop my messenger bag in the booth. Instruments are set up behind the glass. Guitars. Microphones.A drum kit.
“Come out here for a second,” Tom says.
My head is whirling when he leads me into the most professional recording space I’ve ever stepped foot in—hell, it’s theonlyone I’ve ever been in. This is legit.
“Put these on.” He hands me chunky black headphones.
“Tom.”
He takes a pair of headphones too.
“Tom, what are we doing?” I ask flat-out, realizing I might not be a fan of big surprises. I need information likeimmediately.
He rests headphones around his neck. “You’re about to listen to a song for The Carraways. I wrote it after Warren quit. Drums could be better because I’m not great on them, admittedly, so it’s a little rough.”
“You want my feedback on your new song?” I ask.
He nods with the tip of his head, so I’m guessing that’s ameh, not really.But he does say, “I want you to play with me.”
“What?” I rock backward.
“Just listen to the song first. Play it on drums. Get a feel, then we’ll talk.”
I’m already here, and I am curious about the song. He jumps back into the booth, partially hidden behind glass. Leaving me alone among the instruments. Then the music pours through the headphones. I put my hands to them as Tom’s passionate, melodic voice accompanies rage-fused guitar riffs and drumbeats.
I go very still as the song stirs emotion so incredibly deep inside me, as the chorus seeps into my bloodstream. I remember this same overwhelming feeling when I first heard My ChemicalRomance’s “Famous Last Words.” It’s like Tom is speaking directly to me. To what I just experienced with my dad.
You could never take the reason I woke.
You could never take my anger you provoke.
This voice, these feet, this heart of a thousand beats will go on.
Don’t worry, I don’t need you to see.
Any fucking part of me.
I don’t need you.
You’ll wish you knew.
Any fucking part of me.
The fire you feel is blue.
Don’t you wish you knew?
