Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
“Come out here for a second,” Tom says.
My head is whirling when he leads me into the most professional recording space I’ve ever stepped foot in—hell, it’s the only one I’ve ever been in. This is legit.
“Put these on.” He hands me chunky black headphones.
“Tom.”
He takes a pair of headphones too.
“Tom, what are we doing?” I ask flat-out, realizing I might not be a fan of big surprises. I need information like immediately.
He rests headphones around his neck. “You’re about to listen to a song for The Carraways. I wrote it after Warren quit. Drums could be better because I’m not great on them, admittedly, so it’s a little rough.”
“You want my feedback on your new song?” I ask.
He nods with the tip of his head, so I’m guessing that’s a meh, not really. But he does say, “I want you to play with me.”
“What?” I rock backward.
“Just listen to the song first. Play it on drums. Get a feel, then we’ll talk.”
I’m already here, and I am curious about the song. He jumps back into the booth, partially hidden behind glass. Leaving me alone among the instruments. Then the music pours through the headphones. I put my hands to them as Tom’s passionate, melodic voice accompanies rage-fused guitar riffs and drumbeats.
I go very still as the song stirs emotion so incredibly deep inside me, as the chorus seeps into my bloodstream. I remember this same overwhelming feeling when I first heard My Chemical Romance’s “Famous Last Words.” It’s like Tom is speaking directly to me. To what I just experienced with my dad.
You could never take the reason I woke.
You could never take my anger you provoke.
This voice, these feet, this heart of a thousand beats will go on.
Don’t worry, I don’t need you to see.
Any fucking part of me.
I don’t need you.
You’ll wish you knew.
Any fucking part of me.
The fire you feel is blue.
Don’t you wish you knew?
Any fucking part of me.
Holy shit.
I am in love with this song. Possessed by the furious, heart-wrenching energy, I immediately go to the drums, grab the sticks, and I play as Tom restarts the track.
It is a blackout euphoria. To pour my emotion onto the drums. All the hurt my dad caused just leaves me with each crack on the snare. Each boom on the kick-drum. Each bang of my sticks.
Don’t worry, I don’t need you to see.
Any fucking part of me.
I don’t need you.
By the end, I pant for air and focus when I hear Tom’s elated voice. “Whoa, Harry!” He comes sling-shotting out of the booth. “That was way better than what I did. You are epic.” He’s applauding hard as he nears. “And?” His grin is huge and magnetic.
“The song is sick.” I shake my head, still awed.
“I know.” His grin just grows.
I roll my eyes, then stand up.
“So?” He wavers a little, maybe seeing I’m not jumping for joy. “Join the band. You and me.”
“Just us?”
“We can make two work. I talked to the label. They’re down for the change.”
“You want me, even when you rejected me?”
“Because you were seventeen—”
“Then I turned eighteen, dude,” I retort. “You still rejected me then.”
“We were working with other drummers, and Warner—”
“Oh you’re going to blame this on Warner when he’s not around to defend himself. Really, Tommy?”
“He didn’t want a girl in the fucking band,” Tom says seriously. “Specifically you. He thought you were hot and that it would’ve complicated shit. I would’ve been a hypocrite if I fought him on that point, because I threw out Phoenix St. Pierre as a potential drummer for the same reason.”
“Phoenix? The drummer for Nothing Personal?” I say flatly. “That band sucks.”
Tom lights up. “See, this is exactly why we’re meant to be, Harry. We both have the same taste in music and recognize Phoenix as trash.”
I shift my weight.
“Listen to the song again.” He urges me to put my headphones back on. “Play it again.”
I want to so badly. “Tom, I’m in college to be a doctor. I can’t also be a drummer. It’s impossible.” There is no avenue to do both. Attending med school, then entering a residency—it is even more time consuming than undergrad. Being in The Carraways means going on tour around the country, which sounds…unreal. But also, a time suck.
“I’m not asking you to change your life on the spot, this moment, this minute,” he says. “Take days, weeks, the next month if you need more time to decide. But we could create something really special, Harriet. So I need you to know that I want you.”
Is this the first time he’s ever called me Harriet?
He’s serious. He really wants me to be a part of The Carraways. The allure is as luminous as Tom is, and I feed on his energy.
I don’t have to decide now. It lets me bask in this moment. My lips tic up a little as elation flows through me. “Can I play it again?”