Page 132 of Code Word
Now, we’d done this ten thousand times, probably more.
But this one felt personal.
Luke strummed an intro and I smiled at the song he chose. I began on the keyboard, and he started to sing. Soft at first, coercing the lyrics, the emotion. I joined him at the chorus, then I sang the second verse, and we sang the chorus again. Luke nailed the bridge a cappella, his powerful voice ringing in the silence before I eased the keys back in. He sang the final verse, raw and soulful, and I finished with the gentle outro.
And everyone stood there in silence, stunned. Until Jeremy began to smile and Maddox nodded, teary-eyed.
“Holy shit,” Wes whispered. “Guys . . .”
“It’s good,” Maddox said. “Like really freaking good.”
Jeremy held his arm out. “I got goosebumps.”
I looked over at Luke and found his eyes on me. It made my heart knock out of rhythm, and my smile became a grin.
We were really gonna do this.
And I couldn’t freaking wait.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
I signedthe papers for the Malibu sale a week later, and Luke sold his house two weeks after that.
We found a new place that we both liked. Much smaller than Luke’s place, still in the Hills, a ’90s TV executive’s house, and everything we needed. A huge main bedroom, four other bedrooms, and an office, plus an art studio that we turned into our music studio. There was a pool and a great outdoor space, and high walls for privacy.
It was perfect.
Steve insisted on upgrading the security system and Jeremy told us not to argue. Not that either of us was stupid enough to argue with Steve, even if the guy had mellowed some over the last year or so, now that Jeremy wasn’t under the scrutiny of Atrous’s spotlight.
And it was closer to Wes’s house.
I meant it when I’d promised to hang out more and to be a bigger part of his life. That included Amy and Benny, of course, but I was clearly her favorite uncle, so it was my duty to spoil that kid rotten.
And Maddox... well, Maddox had been a huge help.
Point-Four was Luke’s and my production company.We wrote and produced songs for other artists and produced our own songs, and we couldn’t have done it without Maddox’s help. And Jeremy’s and Wes’s too; we each brought something different to the table.
Even Roscoe’s management skills and Steve’s analytical skills were invaluable. And the biggest asset was Becca.
Yep.
Becca fell into the role of personal assistant/manager with the sale of our houses. She’d come with us to the Malibu house as planned to take whatever furniture she’d wanted and ended up organizing the realtor appointments on our behalf. Then she did the same with Luke’s house and the move into the new house. And then with the production studio downtown.
She managed our calendars, appointments, and well, pretty much everything.
The thing was, she knew us. She knew how hopeless we were with the day to day stuff, and she knew everyone in our Atrous circle. And probably most importantly, she was not fazed by anyone who came to our studio, no matter how famous they thought they were.
She took no shit from anyone.
Least of all from Luke and me. Especially me.
It wasn’t awkward at all. In fact, she was one of my closest friends.
“Your fly’s down,” she said.
Instinctively, Luke and I both checked our zippers. They weren’t, but she wanted us to check.
