Page 66 of Feuds and Interludes
He sighed. “Guess I should reach out to Pops.”
“You probably should. Especially if you plan to leave any more marks on me.” I gave him my most winning smile and he shook his head, but he was smiling.
“WhatamI getting myself into?”
I wrapped my arms around him. “Me later?”
He licked his lips and bent down to kiss me. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
“At this point, you can assume.”
“Oh.” He seemed surprised by that. “I’ll still ask, though. I’m all about consent. I got a rep to protect.” He held up a paper bag. “I grabbed your muffins and cleaned up the mess from you hooligans.”
He slung his arm around my shoulder as we walked toward the studio.
“Actually,” I said, “your reputation is that you’re the Metal Menace, a stubborn perfectionist control freak. You keep this up, people are going to think you’re a nice guy.”
He sighed. “We can’t have that.”
Twenty-Three
Shane
I continued to be impressed by Boone. Not only had he faced the music and told other people about his illness, but he lived up tohisreputation of being a wonder in the studio. His relentless pursuit of perfection was a little dizzying, but it was incredible to observe. At times he took Morrison’s place at the board and moved things around like he was the fucking wizard behind the curtain. Morrison and Leland gave him feedback, but they mostly just did as instructed.
When it became my turn to play the slide part on the guitar, Boone turned that focus on me and I was a little intimidated. He perched on a footstool in front of where I sat on the couch, with his knees up and his hair tucked behind his ears.
“How do you want me to play it?” I asked as I warmed up on my Les Paul. It was one Pops had given me and it was a favorite of my collection.
“Here’s the part.” He picked up his Strat and proceeded to play a more complicated riff than I was expecting. I loved watching his hands as he played, his graceful fingers glidingalong the fret board with ease. I had a much more caveman style than he did. Not that I couldn’t play quick or delicate, but I got a little more percussive, like Pops did. I guess I took after him.
“That’s…wow. Okay.”
“What do you think?” he asked. “I thought the slide would take it just a little bit further.”
“I agree,” I said. “But what if you simplified it a bit and added some vibrato here.” I played through what he showed me, making a few changes.
He watched with interest, then he reached over and moved my finger on a string. “Try it again.”
It was so natural for him to touch me, and so unusual for me to accept being corrected like that. If I wasn’t already under his spell, I might worry about this change of heart in me.
He was leaning so close to me, his hair fell forward and brushed my fingers, which frustrated him. He pulled a hair tie off his wrist and did some complicated twisty thing with his hair, piling it on top of his head. He picked up his Strat again and played along with me, watching my fingers move.
“It sounds so much better when you play it.”
“Maybe it’s the guitar. You try it.” I handed my Gibson to Boone, and he played a few scales.
“Man, your action is high on this. What gauge strings do you use?”
“Right now it’s got an eleven set, but I changed these two strings to thirteens. I use this guitar specifically for playing slide. I’ve fucked around with it a lot to get it where I want it.”
He grinned at me and noodled around a bit. Then he played the part again and his eyes lit up.
“It sounds so good,” he said, playing it a few more times, and then he handed it back to me. “Now try it with the slide. I feel so clunky when I try to play slide. You do it.”
“Clunky is not a term I’d ever think of to describe your playing,” I said, laughing as I slid the metal slide on my ring finger.
He tilted his head and smirked at me. “Thanks. All right. Let’s hear it with the slide.”
