Page 45 of A Country Kind Of Love
There’s no harm in singing it, right? It’s her song to Cleo, she wasn’t prepared to sing this particular song, but she’s here now. She can’t back out. It’s just a song. It’ll showcase her writing talents, and they can move swiftly on with the day.
“Come on, Peyton.” Jesse walks over to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. “You’ve got this.” He whispers. She’s thankful for his presence.
Peyton sings the chorus first. She hopes that’ll be enough, and Marvin will hear the song has no relevance to Avery and move past it, but Marvin asks to hear the first verse. Then he asks for a run through of the chorus, once with Peyton’s vocals and again with Avery harmonising. Their voices blend well. It’s like night and day, but it works.
“I love it,” Marvin yells. He rises from his chair and hands Jesse a guitar. He grabs the second keyboard down from the wall, kicks a stand closer to Avery, and within seconds it’s wired up. “I want to try something. Peyton will you run through the chord progression with Avery?Jesse...”
Jesse raises his hand; he strums the guitar confidently and places the plectrum back in his mouth. “I’ve got this.” He’s a well-versed musician; he doesn’t needbabysitting.
“Great.” Marvin grins. “Peyton, take it from the top. Slow it down a notch for me though. It’s a meaningful song. There’s power in the words; they’ll be even more effective if we can feel them.” Marvin sits back, he places one elbow on the arm of his chair; his chin balances against his scrunched fist.
Waiting.
Does Peyton have a choice in the matter? It doesn’t feel like it, but what’s the harm? She can hear her mom’s voice, it’s faint, but it echoesin her mind.
Say yes. Say yes.
Peyton tries to relax. Marvin stares off into space in a trance-like listening pose. Avery eyes the keys intently as his lips whisper the chords. Jesse smiles back at her, cool as a cucumber. Shecan do this.
The words escape her lips; they’re embedded in her brain. She doesn’t need to refer to her notebook. When she gets to the end of the chorus, she allows the first words that come to her to flow naturally.
Peyton tugs at the aventurine gemstone ring underneath her shirt. It’s still there. She still wears it and has done every day since she met Cleo. It’s comforting, and Cleo told her it brings luck. Surely, she’d be punished with a life of bad luck if sheremoved it.
When she finishes the chorus for the second time the room is filled with silence. The only thing she can hear is the vibration of the final chords as they ring out from the keyboard. Jesse places the guitar at his side; once his hands are free he starts a slow heavy-handed clap.
“Stop it,” Peyton says shyly. She can’t look in Marvin’s direction.
“That was...” Marvin stands. “Amazing.”
“Avery did a great job on the keys, and Jesse adding the little ad-libs made it sound so much better,” Peyton deflects.
“No.” Marvin walks over to her. “You were amazing. Your voice. That song. I want torecord it.”
“You want to what?” Peyton chokes.
“Let’s record it.” Marvin rushes over to his laptop. He points to the wooden box beside the recording booth.
“Right now?”
“Sure.” He lifts the cover off the box; inside it’s fur lined with a pair of stainless-steel headphones. They look expensive. The headphones are thrust into her hands. They’re heavy, extremely heavy. They have gold plating around the ears. She wonders if the gold is real; it would make sense. They’re the kind of glamorous headphones she’d expect a famous country artist to own.
“I don’t...” She gulps. Her mouth is dry.
Jesse places a hand on both of her shoulders. “Don’t say you don’t know if you can do this. You can. It’s time to embrace your talent.” He raises his eyebrow. She doesn’t want to let him down. He got her thisopportunity.
“I thought I came to help with a song for Avery,” Peyton whispers. She looks at Avery for backup, but she doesn’t know him, and he retreats to the writing corner without saying a word.
Jesse shakes his head. “Roll with it.”
“I have some other songs, Marvin. I have a few I think would work for Avery,” she says. The attempt to distract from herself doesn’t work.
“We will take a look at those later.”
Marvin opens the heavy-duty timber door to the booth. “Here, let me help with those.” He places the headphones gently on her ears. “Are they comfortable?”
“Erm, yes.” The weight of the headphones makes for perfectly circular cushioned pillowson her head.
Once she’s inside the booth Marvin runs a few tests. She stares at the black padded walls made from acoustic tiling, and he explains the benefits of the booth. The microphone is adjusted to matchher height.
