Page 24 of Hard Rock Muse
7
As annoyed as I was with Cerise for shooting down the song, I was more annoyed with myself. I’d known I was just rushing to get the job done. I should have worked with Julian more, should have included him in the process more than just an afternoon of brainstorming.
So back to the beginning we went, starting from scratch.
Well, not completely from scratch. In the back of my mind I still remembered the two words that popped out of Julian’s mouth during our word association game.
Life.
Freedom.
If that was what his song was truly about, I could run with it. I just needed to make sure the song felt like a Julian Woods song and not one of mine.
I knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as that.
“I’ve got a list of local art galleries,” Julian said. “Three of them are contemporary and post-modern art.” He looked up from his phone to meet my eyes. “I have a feeling if I ask you to choose one, you’ll get agitated again.”
“I didn’t get agitated.”
“Your eyes were panicked and your forehead started sweating.”
“Just choose the one that’s closest,” I said, stopping the topic of conversation before it even began.
The closest turned out to be twenty minutes away. That meant twenty minutes in the car with Julian, unable to escape if things got awkward.
His car was sleek and shiny, black with a cream interior, leather of course. I knew it must have been expensive. I didn’t say anything, but I marveled again at the success of Cherry Lips. It wasn’t that I was jealous. There was just a part of me that couldn’t help but feel wistful and think,that might have been me.
Julian kept both hands on the steering wheel and drove only a few notches above the speed limit. He’d always been a careful driver.
“I’m sorry about Cerise,” he said once we’d pulled out of the parking lot and were on the road. “She has high standards. I know it might seem abrasive.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I get what she meant. The song didn’t sound like you.”
“It sounded like you.” He took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at me and murmur. “Maybe that’s why I liked it so much.”
I almost missed what he’d said, he’d spoken so quietly.
I turned that thought around in my head. Julian said he’d loved the song, and that it sounded like me.
He’d always loved my lyrics. It seemed, despite the breakup, that hadn’t changed. He used to say they made him feel what I felt. They helped him understand me.
I thought I’d known everything about Julian before. Maybe, through writing this song with him, I’d come to know him better, too.
I still hadn’t decided whether that was something I wanted or not.
“We’ll just have to work harder to impress her,” I said.
“She’s hard to impress,” Julian said. “But she approved of your song.”
“Not in the way we hoped,” I said. “At least now I know I haven’t lost my touch.”
“I never doubted you for a second,” he said.
My heart practically glowed at the praise. After being with Keith for so long, I wasn’t used to it.
When we pulled into the art gallery, I saw it was a small venue with only two dozen or so pieces.
“What do you think of this one?” I pointed to a pedestal that had some sort of twisted sculpture using circular little Roomba vacuums and old-fashioned wooden-handled brooms. “I’m not sure what the artist is trying to say here.”
