Page 105 of To Believe In You
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Lina smoothed her sweater, her damp palm clinging to the fabric. If only she could avoid going to the studio for the photos. Unfortunately, Matt was back today.
The best way to welcome a new member to Awestruck was probably to have a shot that included all three of the guys. John and Matt might not be able to manage that in a selfie. Gannon probably could, but the band paying her to maintain a strong online presence deserved better. That left Tim, who had no eye for composition.
Lina must take the photographs herself. She rested her hand on the cover of Grandpa’s stamp book. On her ring finger, the blue sapphire from Grandma winked, as if to say she could handle whatever the day threw at her.
She’d snap a couple of shots—enough to get her through until the pro’s photos were at her disposal—and then work the rest of the day from Key of Hope. Perhaps the home security installer would call her away to show her how to operate her new system around the time of Matt’s lessons so she could avoid him.
She pulled up the camera app on her phone, brainstorming shots. Videos performed well. If they were practicing an old song, she’d go that route. If it was off the new album, which hadn’t dropped yet, however, she’d have to stick with images.
Unless she wanted to hang around, make requests, maybe ask interview-like questions.
She sent up a prayer that Awestruck would be playing something shareable, then let herself into the control room. Tim sat at the soundboard, watching the band work through the window that looked into the main studio. He wore headphones, but speakers also piped the sound into the room. Lina hadn’t heard the song before, so the piece must’ve been off the new album.
She dropped into the office chair beside Tim’s. “Hi.”
He spared her a fleeting glance of greeting, then refocused on the band. Must not have heard her, and no wonder. This wasn’t one of Awestruck’s quieter offerings.
By listening, she never would’ve guessed the three musicians beyond the glass hadn’t played together in years. Though the song was new, Gannon’s voice and Awestruck’s sound made it feel welcoming.
She couldn’t blame Matt’s movement for the way her eyes tracked to him, because Gannon was equally animated. Also in constant motion, John sat behind the kit, the drumsticks occasionally sweeping within an inch of his ears. Perhaps Matt’s white T-shirt drew her attention? The excuse didn’t hold, because the studio was well-lit with light-colored walls and floor. The white didn’t stand out.
But what did stand out? Matt’s fit shoulders. The way his five o’clock shadow shaded his jaw. His confidence.
Gannon belted out the lyrics with enough force that a vein stood out on his neck. “I sow seeds bought off the street, reaping whirlwinds ripe with defeat. I came up wanting.”
The mix of ideas, a Bible verse and something else, lent a dream-like quality to the lyrics.
Matt moved closer to his own mic, and they sang the next part together. “A better shot. A better life. A better high.”
In sync, they stepped back from the mics, fingers flying across the strings to create the driven and angry music, though if the lyrics were any indication, the speaker’s anger was directed mostly inward.
Lina found herself nodding to the beat, waiting for the signature turn-around most Awestruck songs had—some indication of hope.
Gannon returned to the mic. “Dropped in the grave, left for dead, gasping for air with lungs of lead. The wind goes where it pleases, reaping the lost, defying defeat.”
Matt joined him again. “Another shot, a different life, You’re the lasting high.”
The lyrics came quickly, some syllables more implied than sung to fit the rhythm, yet Matt matched Gannon on each word, as if they’d sung this together a hundred times. She hadn’t given him enough credit during his first run with Awestruck. He must’ve had talent, or he never would’ve been able to keep up as well as he had. Now sober, he was a force.
The result of the three men working together in the studio created an immersive experience, tugging her emotions along, drowning out most of the thoughts she’d come in here carrying.
Only when they finished and she found Matt’s eyes on her did her desire to flee resurface. She should’ve tried to take pictures through the glass to avoid directly interacting with the man who owned a far larger share of her heart than she ought to have entrusted to anyone.
“Good, right?” Tim pushed the headphones back until they settled around his neck.
Lina rose and tested how her phone’s camera did with the glass, but her reflection showed in the shot. She’d have to head in. “He’s a quick study.”
“Their history’s helping.” Tim clipped his sentence, seeming to listen to the discussion occurring on the other side of the glass regarding adjustments, piped into the control room through the same speakers that had carried the song moments ago. “Otherwise, they’d never be so in sync.”
Gannon played a few notes. Matt nodded along and joined in. Abruptly, they stopped, and Gannon resumed talking.
Tim half-turned toward her, still distracted by the happenings in the studio. “Plus, Matt better know this one. He wrote it.”
He had?
No wonder Tim had maintained such faith in Matt.
