Page 20 of Happily Ever Laughter

“Exactly.” I point out the various corners. “We almost never hear from Oliver. Sometimes we notice that the coffee level is lower, so we know he’s alive. But sometimes he disappears into his writing nook for days at a time.”

My finger switches directions. “That’s Dan’s room. You’ll likely run into him quite a bit. Don’t be shy – he’s a great guy.”

We walk toward the northwest corner of the loft. “This is my bedroom and studio.” I turn to her and raise an eyebrow. “You know, where all the magic happens.”

Leaning down to kiss her forehead softly, I add, “And by that I really do mean the music, because I’ve never invited a woman here before.”

I was rewarded with a look of astonishment in those bright eyes. “When did you move in here?”

“Just over five years ago.”

I set her backpack on a chair as she looks around my room. The bed and nightstand are in a corner, leaving room for a large desk in front of the giant windows, then several tables and shelves full of music gear.

Tanis steps toward the microphone and pop screen set up on a stand in the corner. “You even record vocals here?”

“Usually it’s just scratch vocals – like a placeholder for the real singer to follow along at a proper studio later. But because we’re going for speed, and it’s just a few words and phrases for our project, we’re recording here.”

She turns to me. “You mean you are recording. I’m just observing.”

“Nope. There are a couple of places where I need a female voice.”

She steps back with her hands raised defensively. “Oh no. No way. I’m not singing.”

“Shh,” I murmur, pulling her into my arms. “No singing. Just speaking a few words. And I’ll be putting so many effects on it, you’ll barely recognize it’s you.”

Her shoulders soften slightly as I stroke her back. “Plus,” I add, “we can do a bunch of takes. You can play with it. We’re just making up stuff here and having some fun.”

Her chin tilts up as she looks at me. “Sure, just playing around, but didn’t you say we have to get this done tonight?”

“We have almost all the pieces. It’s just assembly now. Like tacos. Trust me.”

She makes a quick decision. “Well, okay then. How do I help?”

I already know that I’m falling wildly in love with her, but her positive attitude would have pushed me over the edge if I wasn’t.

“Fuel.” I lead her back to the kitchen to point out the coffee, tea, juice, and snacks. Rinsing the coffee pot, I prepare a fresh batch.

“The water is fine for hand-washing and showering, but use the bottled water for drinking and coffee,” I explain, pointing out the big office style water cooler and chilling stand. “Also, they’re updating the water mains a few blocks west of here. Once in a while the water cuts out completely for a few hours. So use as much from that bottle as you need to.”

Tanis laughs, looking around the enormous kitchen and rustic but polished picnic table. “It’s almost like camping out here.”

I point to the fireplace and murmur in her ear. “We really do roast marshmallows in the winter.”

After brewing a pot of my very finest coffee, we go back to my room and get to work. It’s impressive that Tanis whips out a large notebook and immediately begins taking notes.

I call up a video she had made of a glass of water being poured. At first it’s tranquil, but her fine white line animations layered on top have a tiny surfer gliding in circles.

The music underneath was old school surf rock, with my slightly disguised voice doing a super cheesy surfer impression. “The thing about alcohol is that it makes me the best dancer in the world. Like, every single time. But what’s if I’m at a place where there’s no dancing? How are other people going to figure out that the drunk version of me is vastly superior?”

Tanis falls forward laughing, having to clutch my chair. “We’ve all thought the same thing!” she squeaks.

I show her another clip of her finger flipping through pages of a book, with a classic voice that says, “If only these trees understood how crucial their sacrifice was to our weekend leisure time.”

She giggles again, as I slip an arm around her so that she can shake against my side.

“They say that we need seven interstitials, plus the intro. But I know that these things always go down to the wire in editing, and everything I can do to make their lives easier, the better. So let’s give them two extra, one a bit short, and one a bit long, so it’s easy for them to slot in whatever fits.”

“Good idea,” she nods. “I’ve already shot something for the intro.”

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