Page 58 of Best Friend Burden

“So what then?” she asked. “What do I do with it?”

The words came out before I had a chance to fully think it through, but this may be the only chance for me to do something right with my life, “We produce it together.”

She blushed even more. “I don’t know,” she said. “You’d do that for me?”

“Natasha, it’s genuinely good,” I said. “The only thing shitty about it is you’re having the computer play the instruments for you. I can work the mixing equipment here, and we can play pretty much anything between the two of us.”

As the words came out, I realized I was excited but also terrified for at least two reasons.

The first was I didn't know if I was worthy of Natasha's musical genius. She was working on another level from me, or at least that's how it seemed, coming up with musical ideas I could never dream of. But, then again, I wouldn't really have to if I was just handling the production. I would just be bringing out her ideas and helping her to express them.

But the second reason was more serious. This was something I'd dreamed of doing for forever, but had told myself that I couldn't. Even when I dreamed of becoming a rock god, I never thought I'd be handling the production and choosing how to orchestrate my tracks. I had some sketches in my head of how some things would go, but always figured I'd have to kick them up to whoever was in charge of orchestrating and mixing.

I was a guitarist and a bassist who had some familiarity with other instruments. I'd never seen myself as a musical producer. Not professionally, anyway, but if I was going to change I needed to do it now before this too was something else wonderful I lost for myself.

“Do you have any other songs?” I asked her.

“I've got a double album's worth,” she said. “Some aren't fully developed, but in total, I'd say I have about thirty or so that are ready or close to ready to be recorded.”

This was really happening. A full-on album that I’d be producing.

“If you want someone else, just tell me,” I said, “but I want to do this.”

She paused for a second, contemplating before putting her hand forward.

“Okay,” I said, “we're in this together. But when all is said and done, they're your songs. And don't forget that.”

“Of course,” she said.

We shook hands.

“Let's get Jackson to draw up a contract,” I said.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

“Oh,” I said, “and until we're done, not a word to Ernie.”

She mimed zipping her lips shut. “Of course. Not a peep.”

I'd gone the whole weekend depressed and still felt a bit empty inside, but at that moment, I felt a sense of purpose. Maybe this is what I needed, this was me finding myself. For once in a very long time, I felt like I was doing the right thing.

CHAPTER25

***MELODY***

Iwas thankful for the cool weather. Or what everyone told me was cool weather. Everywhere I went, I felt hot, thanks to whatever baby Olivia was doing to my body. How women dealt with summer pregnancies, I'd never know.

I can’t believe how fast the time went. Now, at nine months pregnant, my body felt like a ticking time bomb. Plus, the things going on physically – no one can truly understand until they are growing a tiny human inside of them. There were times when I caught myself sitting on the floor of the taco truck in front of the minifridge eating cheese out of the container, wondering if I would ever be able to shave my cooch again. Times were tough.

And when I could no longer see my feet, Kalle was more than prepared to handle the day-to-day operations of The Vegan Vaquero. It was impressive, too. Even with bigger crowds, she kept her cool and managed to get people to move speedily through the line. Hungry people had short tempers but she ensured that they never had to wait too long to get their meals.

Most of the time, I stayed home and rested on the couch throughout the day, ordering groceries to the house and, if I didn't feel up for cooking, would even get a meal or two delivered. It made me feel a little bit lazy, but I was in the final weeks of bringing life into this world, and so I could be forgiven for a bit of laziness.

I would still go check in and visit the truck to ensure things were running well — though, truth be told, it was usually just an excuse to get out of the apartment because I was bored. The one day where I absolutely needed to go to the food court was the day that I was especially not feeling up to it.

Still, I was nothing if not persistent, and I dragged myself out of bed, put just enough make-up on my face to give the appearance of giving a damn and then got dressed and drove out to the truck.

Channel 5 had scheduled an interview with me, and they were already setting up when I arrived. The reporter introduced herself to me as Ellen.

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