Page 7 of Paparazzi

The friendship that grew with these guys started when Damian screwed up, requiring us to announce a contest which they ended up winning. But I think it was the best mistake my friend ever made. It’s nice to have someone around who’s still excited about the novelty of this business, who’s not jaded by fame and money.

“I know, thank you. If we’re still stuck this afternoon, we’ll call you for sure.”

“Don’t tell me he’s still recording ‘Rise,’” I whisper when I hear the song’s first notes.

Lilly rolled her eyes desperately. “He doesn’t like the way the chorus came out. He says he’s not gritty enough and blames me for softening him.”

I burst into hysterical laughter. “For Christ’s Sake, it’s getting worse than ‘Jude,’ which we’ve heard a million times too many.”

“Imagine having to deal with this at home too.”

Arthur turns to us and smiles, clearly desperate. He’s our sound engineer for the album. Even Adam, our producer, doesn’t want to see us in the studio anymore.

“How many times have you heard it?” I ask him when the expression on his face looks halfway between amused and desperate.

“Let’s just say I’ve never had more bass tracks than an entire fifteen-song album,” Arthur replies diplomatically before returning to focus on my friend on the other side of the glass.

“Simon ordered a whole truck of new bonsai plants just to relax after Damian slaughtered him with this song,” I laugh with Lilly and Arthur.

When you record an album, the various tracks are usually done separately: vocals, bass, guitar, and drums. Everyone does their part, and then the multiple tracks are mixed together, cleaned up, enriched with effects, if necessary, and perfected to create the song that will then be recorded on the album, the one that everyone will eventually listen to. Each track can be recorded multiple times, so you get the best possible result. When you work with Damian, this process can be murder. I don’t think I’ve ever met more of a perfectionist than he is. Simon wasn’t able to play the bass part Damian had in mind and he made us stay in the studio late into the night for weeks. One day Simon didn’t show up at the studio, and Evan, our manager, told us that he had been spending time in Connecticut, relaxing before he ended up in jail for murder. Simon, the man who has the patience of a saint, ran away so as not to kill my best friend. Michael and I probably would have helped him hide the body.

“Should I get out of here before he makes me do the chorus again?” I ask worriedly.

“Don’t even joke like that!” Lilly threatens me before she gets back to work.

When she goes back to what she was doing, and on the other side of the glass Damian keeps recording, I open my laptop and do something I’ve never done in my life. I type in the Google search field ‘Iris’and ‘redhead.’ I don’t even know if that’s her name or if the bag she was wearing belonged to a little sister or a friend. I don’t even know why I’m looking for an excuse to tell myself, maybe because I realize that I look like a crazy maniac.

The number of photos that appear on the screen is overwhelming—from flowers to women dressed in skimpy clothes—so I narrow the research with keywords like ‘New York,’ realizing that I know so little about her that I could put in completely different terms and receive the same results.

“Are you looking for an escort?” Damian’s voice behind me almost blows me off the chair.

When I turn around, he’s smiling like an idiot and my heart is pumping hard in my chest. He caught me like a kid watching porn. When the hell did he get out of that room? I was so focused I didn’t even realize it.

“No, are you kidding?” My lack of explanation makes me appear even more guilty, and Lilly gets up from her seat and leans behind Damian’s big shoulders to snoop. I feel like a kid getting caught sneaking on the internet with his father’s password.

“You’re looking for ‘Iris’ and ‘redhead.’ You must have a great explanation that I can’t wait to hear,” my friend teases me with a raised eyebrow. Lilly is quivering with curiosity next to him, and I can’t avoid explaining what happened yesterday afternoon.

“What the hell was she doing on a fire escape?” Damian’s expression is both perplexed and amused.

“I don’t know...she didn’t say,” I confess with embarrassment.

“And her name is Iris?” asks Lilly.

I feel like a kid getting questioned in class. “I assume so. It was written on her bag.”

“Didn’t you even ask what her name was?” Damian is increasingly amused.

“I asked for her name and number, but she was very good at glossing over the answer.” I’m a little nervous.

“And does your butt hurt from the fall? Is that why you’ve been sitting all wrong in that chair since this morning?” asks Lilly, giggling.

“I knew if I told you, you’d make fun of me. I’m going to go get a coffee while you keep squealing behind me.” I wink at her and leave the room before the embarrassment makes me blush, giving them one more reason to keep it up.

*

I’ve been sitting at one of the tables for a few minutes when Lilly comes in and, seeing me, orders a coffee and sits next to me.

“Are you offended by our teasing?” she asks bluntly.

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