Page 55 of Wants and Needs
Is he going along with this fake boyfriend thing out of some sense of responsibility or because he does want to?
Or only because he’s my friend?
Well, we might’ve just started being friends, and I don’t have that much experience with those, but he clearly is. Is this what friends always do for each other?
Has he faked being anyone else’s boyfriend?
Oof, that thought doesn’t sit right.
I place a hand on top of my belly, and raise my other to press E, G sharp, B, and C sharp on the grand piano in the studio.
That’s my favorite note, E6.
It sounds like . . . possibility.
Mom always starts her happy songs with that one, or at least she used to.
“You’re here.” I hear Hawk over the speakers and turn to look through the glass at the control room.
Wolf is with him, and I see a third person too, but can’t make out who they are until they walk closer to the glass.
It’s Carter.
I feel like I need to let out a big breath suddenly, and my hand twitches on the piano, making sound explode in the room. I quickly pull my hand back and I’m throwing my legs over the bench when they walk into the sound studio.
Hawk walks over with a thick stack of papers and hands them over to me without saying anything.
Sheet music. Like always he’s come prepared, but this is...
A long sonata almost.
I look up to see Hawk chewing on his lower lip, and it looks painful so I don’t comment on it. I look back down, turn to sheet after sheet, and analyze the song. I start to hear it in my head and I am beyond impressed before I even get to the fourth one.
“Did you compose this?” I ask without looking up.
“Of course he did,” Wolf says in his gruff way that I can never decipher.
“Watch it.” Carter speaks for the first time. And that tone I dorecognize. I look up to see him frowning at Wolf, harsher than I’ve ever seen him frown, I think.
He and Wolf are staring at each other, and where Wolf’s frown is the usual way things are, on Carter, the harsh lines look almost wrong on his angular face.
His sharp cheekbones are more pronounced thanks to his pinched mouth until Wolf grumbles something I can’t make out, and then Hawk speaks quietly.
“Can you play it?” he asks me.
“Sure,” I tell him, and go back to studying the intricate composition. I know this is going to be the most fun I’ve had in a long time, and it’ll take me the full two days we’ve booked at the studio to perfect it and make adjustments.
“Sure?” Wolf asks, his voice no longer a growl but his lip is curled upwards. I think that tone is challenging, so I use the few seconds of eye contact I can muster with Wolf wisely.
“I mastered ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’ before my sixth birthday, Wolf,” I tell him, making sure my face is completely relaxed. “Even though this is intricate, of course I can play it. And you know very well how much you pay for these fingers.” I hold my hand up.
“That sounds dirty,” I hear Hawk mumble, and a snicker that I’m sure came from Carter, but I keep looking at Wolf. He stares long enough that I have to break eye contact, even if it’s just to look at his forehead, but I think I made my point either way.
Wolf bursts out laughing after a few more seconds of silence, and he shakes his head as he walks back to the control room.
“I love it when he gets cocky,” he says. And then in his normal harsh tone he adds, “Come on Hawk. We only have twodays to get this done, and Liam’s gonna need every second to get your sonata done if his guard dog will let him be.”
I wonder briefly why Hawk would compose something like this, what prompted it, because it’s not their style of music at all. They write, compose, and play country rock.
