Page 66 of Songbird: Black Kite
It was always that way, the music that I associated with her drifting through my mind during the quiet moments of my life. A weird case of deja vu that I couldn’t seem to exorcise from my head. I’d hear it, ghosting around in my memories, reminding me of something I wanted desperately to remember, but could never quite grasp, and then it was gone again, like the wind.
The song floated through my brain again now, more substantial than I could ever remember it being, and I found myself repeating the same four bars over and over, feeling calm and peaceful as I played and smoked and drifted.
“You write that?” came Alex’s voice, startling me out of my Zen. “That’s sweet, bro.”
“Hey.” Placing the Martin back in its rack, I stood, taking one last hit of my joint before setting it in the ash tray and greeting the guys. “When did you get here?”
“Almost half an hour ago,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes. “Alex was sucking up to Harriette so she’d make him that cake he likes.
“Listen, no one makes a better Devil’s food cake than my girl Harry,” Alex protested. “It deserves to be revered and worshiped and devoured.”
“You gonna eat it or fuck it?” I asked, chuckling.
“Is fucking it an option?” he retorted.
“Not in my goddamn house, it isn’t.”
“Seriously, though, dude. What were you playing?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “I was just dicking around and it sort of appeared. I’ve been playing it on and off for years now, I think.”
“You think?” Gavin asked.
“I mean,” I swallowed, shifting on the couch. “I have been, but it’s never become more than those four bars, so...” I finished with a lame shrug.
“Well, what if we made something out of it?” Alex pressed, and I paused, looking at him.
In a weird way, I didn’twantto make anything out of those notes. I couldn’t explain it, but there was something personal about them, and I was wary of sharing them with the world. It might have been stupid or whatever, but somehow, they felt special. Important.
Mine.
But now that the guys had heard them, the proverbial cat was out of the bag, and I didn’t see a way to stuff them back in.
“Alright,” I agreed, picking up the guitar and getting ready. “Let’s see what we can do.”
We played for hours. Harry came and went with snacks and beverages, keeping us hydrated and just generally fussing the way she liked to do. We hardly paused—except for when the cake was done, at which point Alex disappeared back upstairs for nearly an hour, doing whatever the fuck it was he did when he was mooching off Harry—and as the clock ticked over to midnight, I was surprised as shit to realize we had the makings of a pretty fucking great song.
All built around my Bird’s melody.
“You know,” Alex mused, scraping his fork against the plate, trying to lap up every last crumb of his fourth piece of cake. “When I suggested we write a ballad, I had no idea it was going to be so fucking dope.”
“Is that your official opinion?” Gavin asked dryly, nursing a cup of tea. We’d finally abandoned the basement studio and returned to the main floor, gathering around the kitchen island. Harriette had gone to her room hours ago, so it was just the three of us in the dark, quiet house.
“Sure as fuck is.” Alex set the plate on the counter before removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “And once we polish it up a bit, we’ll take it to Castor and tell him to shove it right up his tight—likely bleached—asshole.”
“That was...oddly specific,” Gavin said while I chuckled lightly. Alex only shrugged.
“There is one thing we haven’t talked about,” I said, hating to drag down the good vibes of a successful night of song writing. The guys looked at me, nodding, because they knew.
Of course, they knew.
“Lewis.” Gavin’s tone said that he was as unhappy about the direction of the conversation as I was.
“Do you think he’s actually going to want to record with us?” Alex asked. “The guy essentially lit our band on fire and walked away without looking back.”
“Tori said that he would, but only if I apologized first.”
Alex snorted.
