Page 80 of Tangled Up In You

Even though the studio was near Trinity on the Southside of Dublin, Gavin had never suggested she visit him there before. She was surprised by how small the studio was, even with its separate spaces for recording with either carpeted or hardwood floors. An enormous angled soundboard filled the front room, and its dozens upon dozens of knobs and switches and tangle of wires overwhelmed the space. Large speakers were both built into the wood paneled walls and set atop the soundboard. The equipment was complex, requiring more than one engineer to manipulate it and included a colorful keyboard and computer monitor resting in the middle of it all.

She knew the facility had a kitchen and a shower, but the air was stagnant with a lingering mixture of old takeaway food, stale alcohol, cigarettes, marijuana, and body odor. She sensed that the closeness of the space could easily lead to irritation.

Julia O’Flaherty was curled up sleeping in one of the battered leather chairs pressed against the wall opposite the soundboard. Sophie had seen Julia at various parties and nights out, but both women used Gavin as a buffer, keeping their distance from one another. They had come to an unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t be friends.

Shay sat at the soundboard, listening to a playback of a song. He leaned back and smiled at Sophie.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Come here.” He patted the empty chair next to him and she sat down. “Truth is, we’re desperate for a break. But we’re all too fucking stubborn to admit it. We’ve hit a wall here and it hurts.”

“Is it bad?” She saw the circles under his eyes and knew out of all the band members he would take this kind of creative roadblock the hardest. The band was absolutely everything in his life.

“The record company is on our arses. We get reminders from them of how expensive studio time is everyday—sometimes twice a day,” he said with a weary, bitter laugh. “And it’s just not coming. We’ve got the lyrics and we’ve got some of the music, but for the life of us, we can’t bring it all together.”

“Oh, Shay,” she said softly, and hugged him impulsively.

She was at fault for at least part of this. The publicity around her reunion with Gavin had helped to almost double the band’s album sales to six million. The record label had made it clear they wanted to capitalize on the interest in the band—and their relationship. They had become tabloid staples since that radio phone call in Los Angeles, though the near-daily stories tended to be mundane. They’d mostly publish photos of Gavin when he was on his own or with Conor, and gleefully suggest there was “trouble in paradise!” since Sophie wasn’t with him. Alternatively, they’d make innuendos out of innocent photos of Sophie with her male schoolmates. As baseless as all this was, it still caught Celia’s attention, as she had just that day begged for details about several of that week’s stories. Sophie and Gavin found it silly and didn’t let it affect their routines, but she knew the fact that they were still garnering attention only stoked anticipation—and pressure—for Rogue’s next album.

Shay was stiff in her arms for a moment and she could feel how tense the whole process had made him. But soon he exhaled and returned her embrace.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Sophie and Shay pulled apart at the sound of Gavin’s voice. He stood with hands on hips as he glared at them. Sophie saw Julia stir, open her eyes, blink at them, and then pretend sleep again.

“Hi, baby,” Sophie said, and stood up. She knew they were all on edge and figured it was best to ignore his attempt to start a fight. “We brought sustenance. You ready for a break?”

“I’m not in the mood for this, Sophie. And this isn’t the kind of thing where you can just drop by. We’re under a fucking deadline,” he told her.

“Wow, you really are in a bad mood,” she said with a smile, trying to lighten him up.

“He’s been like this for the last two weeks,” Shay said.

“Fuck off, Shay,” Gavin told him.

Sophie shook her head, both at Gavin’s cruel reaction and at his use of “Shay” rather than “Seamus.” That was almost the bigger insult after Gavin had made such a big point of using the full name for his friend for so many years. To revert back to the shorter name, the one his parents had so carelessly bestowed upon him, was a true slight. But even though Shay looked wounded, he remained silent.

“Gavin, don’t be such a jerk,” she said.

Gavin’s annoyance was clear as he stared at her but she didn’t back down, maintaining eye contact. “Don’t do this to me now,” he said stiffly. “I’m under enough fucking pressure as it is.”

“Bit of a domestic, is it?” Conor asked as he approached them. He waited in vain for a response and finally slapped Gavin forcefully on the back a few times. “Be nice to your girl. She’s the best thing about you, you know?”

Sophie watched the stubbornness drain out of Gavin at his friend’s semi-playful words.

“Right as usual, Con,” Gavin said. “I need some air. Come with me, darlin’.”

He grabbed her hand and she let herself be taken out of the building through a rear door. It opened into a narrow, paved brick alleyway and they had it to themselves. They stood together, mirroring each other with arms crossed over their chests in defensive poses. The silence grew but Sophie wasn’t going to be the first to speak.

“I fucked up,” he finally stated.

“It’s okay, Gavin.”

“Thanks, but it’s not. I’m at a loss and I don’t see any change coming. It’s more than frustrating. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

Sophie took the few steps to close the gap between them and leaned her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry to show up like this. I really didn’t think it through. I only even suggested it because I didn’t know what to say when Celia told me she doesn’t like to have sex with Martin.”

Gavin laughed and pulled away. “What now?”

---