Page 16 of In This Together

Then Scruffy Blue-Eyes stepped forward and surprised her with a southern twang as he said, ‘Just stay away from the kick drum in those weapons,’ he said, gesturing to her sandals. ‘If your foot slips off the pedal, you’ll pierce the head.’

His lips curved at one side into what could have been a deadly half-smile, if it weren’t for his snide remark and the fact he looked like he hadn’t showered… ever. Who washeto talk about fashion, in his scuffed suede boots, shaggy jeans, open farmer’s shirt, that tight white T-shirt and hanging dog tags that were soooo ten years ago?

‘I’m Seth, by the way,’ he said, holding out a hand and wafting what was surprisingly a musk of soap and outdoors under Rosalie’s nose.

‘Grab a seat,’ Sofia said generally to the room, adjusting the right faders to bring Seth’s recording over the speakers.

As they listened to Seth sing, Sofia tweaked the sound, making the bass more pronounced in some places, enhancing the melody in others. Her foot tapped and her shoulders swayed of their own volition as she worked. It was a pleasure to watch and reminded Rosalie why she was here.

She reached into her purse and took out her leatherbound notebook and Montblanc pen. ‘Can you talk me through the buttons as you push them?’ she asked, and Sofia briefly did as Rosalie made notes, oblivious to the eyes in the room that were focused on her.

When the track finished, Sofia turned on her stool to face Seth, who was now perched uncomfortably close to Rosalie on the arm of the sofa. ‘So, I was thinking the opening riff is just so pretty, maybe you should let it run completely and bring in the lyrics on the repeat.’

Seth’s response was to hook his guitar strap over his shoulder and play the riff. Sofia leaned back against the studio wall and let her head move with the beat, her eyes on the ground as she listened. Rosalie, on the other hand, was fixated on the ease with which Seth’s fingers commanded the strings.

On the repeat, he began to sing:

I can still see your smile,

Right before you closed the door,

For the last time.

‘Keep going,’ Sofia instructed.

Sofia listened to verse and chorus, verse. Then she said, ‘Instead of picking up the beat for the second chorus, bring it down.’

But Rosalie had stopped taking notes because just inches from her, she heard a voice that surprised her, chilled her and made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

She followed as the group moved into the studio, Billy offering her a hand down the few steps inside.

‘Go again from the second verse,’ Sofia said.

As the others played, Sofia walked across the room to the upright piano and quickly lifted the lid then slipped onto the stool in front.

At the end of the verse, Frankie killed the bass, Billy dropped the drums and Seth slowed the melody. Sofia flexed her fingers then closed her eyes and began to play. Taking her lead from Seth’s tempo, she improvised. Seth’s lyrics ended but he stayed with Sofia on guitar, then she built the melody to a crescendo and the others took her lead – Frankie struck a chord on bass, Billy brought back the drums, Seth strummed his acoustic – and at the right moment, Seth let rip on notes Rosalie hadn’t heard from a country rock singer before.

They played until the end of the track and Frankie closed on one heavy strum on the bass guitar.

After a moment’s pause, the others all shared a smile, ignoring Rosalie’s presence in the room entirely. ‘That’s your first single,’ Sofia said, and Seth simply nodded.

Rosalie clapped excitedly, drawing all eyes in the room to her. ‘That was super pretty.’

And she found herself looking forward to the day she signed her first Seth-type singer to her own label. Of course, at her label, his image would be less homeless person who’s been living under Brooklyn bridge for a decade and more smooth, clean, lust-worthy.

She imagined herself at the Grammys in floor-length silk, cameras flashing around her as she linked arms with her rock stars. The headlines would read:

ADORED BY HER ARTISTS AND AN INCREDIBLE MOTHER: IS THERE NOTHING THIS WOMAN CANNOT DO?

And her life would be filled with love, admiration, success and her very own Prince Charming.

But Rosalie’s thoughts were brought to an abrupt end when the studio door was pushed open so hard that it slammed against the wall.

Jay, Sofia’s husband, appeared. ‘Fuck,’ he said as he stumbled and slid down the door, stopping himself from falling by gripping onto the door handle.

‘Christ, Jay. It’s after ten and you’ve been out since brunch,’ Sofia said, moving to him and helping him stand. ‘Have you even been home?’

‘Nope. But lishten, Sophs, you schgot to hear this.’

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