Page 71 of Out of Tune
“So, we were just talking about the recording process of Fool’s Gambit’s first album and how during that time you were looking for a label to work with. I believe we left off after you listened to the completed album with Wes. Tell me, what happened next? Did he come find you?”
“No. I shut him out. Eventually, I got over myself and went to the concert. It was a good show,” I start, remembering theaftermath of what was Wes and my true first fight. How I hated myself for getting close enough to him to get hurt. He was my best friend, and back then I couldn’t imagine a world without him.
God. I wish I could be without him now.
“What was the show like? It was the first stop on their first official tour, right?”
“It meant a lot to them.”
“And you? You were a big part of the band; did it mean something to you too?”
I shrugged. “I guess. It was everything we worked for, and it was cool to see it come to life.”
Kendal sighed, reaching for her camera and pressing the stop button. “What the hell is up with you? It’s like I’m talking to a robot. I can’t use that shit unless I want people to fall asleep.”
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” She crosses one leg over the other and leans forward. “Let’s try this again. You have been pretty much useless during our last three interviews. Your choreographer is on the verge of quitting. And you have a tour in one month that you’re not ready for.”
“I haven’t heard anything about the choreographer.”
“It’s a perk of being a part of the crew. That and the fact that people aren’t scared I’ll bite their head off,” she says and cocks a brow. “The cameras aren’t rolling. There’s no one here to perform for. I’d like to think of us as friends, and as your friend, I want to know what’s wrong.”
I consider for a moment, but I can’t think of anyone else I can talk to about this. “I really started to care about him again, Kendal. There’s this feeling in my chest that settles whenever he’s around. He used to be the person who showed up no matter what. When things got bad, I felt like shit but knew he’d be there. And when he wasn’t, I was terrified he was hurt or missing,only to see that he was blowing me, us, off.” Shame returns in a sickening hot flash. I should have known better, been more careful. But I was so ready to believe him, so desperate to have someone on my side like that again I let my guard down.
Kendal pauses and takes in my words. I appreciate that about her, how she listens before she speaks. “It’s weird for me. With this documentary, I’m caught between the past and present. When we’re doing our interviews, he’ll talk about something, and it always leads back to you. And when he says your name, he just glows. That doesn’t negate the bullshit he pulled, but there’s something important between you two.”
I don’t know how to digest that. I’ve tried my best not to think of what he’s been saying, but of course he’s talking about the past the same way I have to. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to know what the others were saying, journalistic integrity and all.”
“I think it’s worth breaking the rules this one time.”
“Thanks, but those are just words. He’s shown who he is.”
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “Or maybe you owe it to yourself to hear him out. Doesn’t mean you have to forgive him, but I’d recommend you find a way to work with him again before all of this goes to shit. Don’t do it for him. Do it for you. I’m all for being angry at a man when he deserves it, but don’t let that anger get in the way of your success.”
“You’re right. There’s no point screwing myself over because of him.”
“Great. Now let’s try this interview again,” she says, reaching to start the camera up once again.
We record for another hour and by the time we’re done the facility is empty, even if the parking lot isn’t.
“Waiting for me? That’s a bit creepy,” I say. “And could you get up? I don’t need your ass sweat on my car.”
The muscles in his arms shift as he pushes off from where he’s been leaning against my BMW. His clothes are damp with sweatand hug the lines of his body in a way I have to force myself to ignore, looking at his face instead. It’s a mistake because those blue eyes of his are trained right on me, framed by brows scrunched with hurt.
“I want to talk. That’s it. Obviously, you think I’m a bitselfish.” The way he emphasizes the word makes me think that my sound bite from this morning has done its rounds. “But I want to move forward.”
“You want to take me to dinner, right? Pick me up at six.”
Track Eight
Martin:This industry is about compromise. Avery had the talent and hunger, but she’d sooner break than bend an inch. And sure, I wanted her out of the studio. She was a costly distraction. Time is money, and all the shit.
Lydia:I’d seen Avery in some of the video clips. She had this velvety voice, so rich you could feel it against your skin. Whenever I heard her, I was always left wanting more.
Lydia:When I saw the chance to work with her, I took it.
A blurry clip of The Resurrection Room in Atlanta, Georgia, prior to its renovation. Avery Sloane sings on stage with her guitar. The footage is low quality, taken from a phone camera, but it is one of only a handful of videos taken of the performance. “Losing Faith” would make it onto her debut album,Hard Won. Due to its themes of romantic devotion, it isoften cited as evidence of a potential relationship between Hart and Sloane.
