Page 5 of Rock My Girl

I reached out to trail the back of my fingers along her cheek. "Hug away. This is a creative industry, and passion can only help the process along, right?"

Her soft smile and nod gave me hope. I would do anything to make this dainty songbird feel as much as I did for her. But first, eleven songs needed polishing.

The next few hours were a blur.

I swung by Markarian Records to make sure they could pay Cassie directly for the shots she took, and not through Tom. They also agreed they'd never hire him again.

We dropped into a meeting room to skim through the photos, picking the best six. She retouched one of them on the spot while I did a quick lap of the building, checking in with the "suits".

They were thrilled to see that I was taking things seriously, and admitting that after a month of writer's block, it was time to get the ball rolling.

Cassie's photos were incredible, and made the PR people ecstatic.

"What's next?" she asked.

"That's up to you. Would you be more comfortable in one of the workrooms here at the office? Or we could go to the studio where I'll be recording the album, and see if they have a writing room available. Or you could come to my loft. There's plenty of light, huge tables, and we can record scratch tracks right there."

"Scratch tracks?"

"Like a sketch. The crappy first draft, just to test if an idea works before you go into the studio and start spending the big bucks."

"Oh! Like the low resolution version of a photo where you're just making sure the colors blend properly. Gotcha."

She was smart as a whip. Especially for one so young.

"Hey, do you mind my asking how old you are?"

"Twenty-two. Why?"

I grinned. "Sometimes a tiny bit of whiskey helps the writing process. Not Tom Wilson levels, of course."

Cassie laughed. "I've actually never had whiskey, but if it's part of the creative process, I'm game. Let's go to the loft. You'll probably be most comfortable there."

I admired that she was already prepared to get this album done.

On the drive, I quickly explained why this project was so important.

My first album had been a massive hit. Nobody had expected that, but the summer the album dropped, three of the songs were topical, so they took off. There was also little competition in the blues-rock genre that season. Everything magically worked out.

Everyone had high hopes for the second album, but the pressure was too much, it was all way too rushed, and it turned out to be terrible.

So it was make or break time. If my third album wasn't some sort of success, the label would drop me, and I couldn't imagine having to grovel to try to find a new one.

Music was my life. I would go back to playing covers in bar bands if I had to, but singing my own music was my reason for existing. Yet I'd been stuck with the latest songs, with no idea how to inject more life into them. Finding Cassie was clearly a sign from the universe.

Once we were settled on my couch with lyric sheets, notepads, and sparkling water, I handed Cassie my best mixing headphones and plugged them into my laptop.

"Don't feel that you have to be polite," I said. "If something sounds too old-fashioned, too modern, too desperate, or just sucks, I need to know."

"Okay." She curled up at the end of the couch, tucking her bare feet underneath her.

Cassie adjusted the headphones, then scrolled to track one on the laptop. With a notebook in hand, she closed her eyes, listening intently.

I jumped up and walked to the kitchen to distract myself from the sudden thoughts of wanting to nibble on her tiny ruby-tipped toes, and scrubbed a few dishes so she didn't feel observed. Cassie's opinion might be what saved my make-or-break important album.

My heart was filled with hope that we would become more than collaborators. Every single detail about Cassie drew me in. I already knew that I never wanted to let go.

---