“Sit down.” He nodded at the empty stool, and I sat, putting my guitar across my lap.
“I want us to sing ‘One More Night’ together. Like your YouTube version.”
“But ... we haven’t practiced.” The thing with seasoned professionals was that you didn’t have to practice for weeks on end to get something right. We could take two or three passes at a song to coordinate our vocals and the music. A rehearsal or two later, we could perform just about any song perfectly. But Ryan and I hadn’t gone over the music together or worked out our harmonies or who would come in when.
“Just sing it exactly the same way you did in the video,” he said. “I’ll take the first verse, you take the second, and we’ll sing the chorus and the bridges together.”
This had the potential to be a disaster of epic proportions.
Ryan started the intro to the song, and I joined in. Even if our voices weren’t compatible, our guitars seemed to love each other.
He began to sing.
I know you can’t stay
Someplace you gotta be
Won’t stand in your way
But, girl, you gotta see
Then I joined in.
We’ll make this all right
Won’t give up the fight
If you give me, give me ...
One more night
Just to be with you alone
One more night
Let the music take us home
One more night
To pretend we’re in control
All I need is one more, one more, one more night
Nothing stunned me more than how perfectly our voices blended together. As if we’d practiced this song a million times. So much so that I nearly missed when I was supposed to come in.
Tomorrow you’ll be gone
Tonight’s our last chance
I know you’re moving on
I need one last dance
Then Ryan came back in, and again we sang in perfect, flawless harmony.
Like ships in the night
We’ll fade in the light