Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“Fine. One song. As long as you give her a fair shake.”
“I said I would. Stop nagging me about it.”
“I will when you stop acting like a dick who deserves to be nagged.”
With a roll of his eyes, Kai swings open the metal door, and it’s back into the basement we go. But only two steps into the room, we’re surprised to find Titus slaying a nasty riff on Savage’s guitar, while Savage looks on like he’s witnessing Titus turning water into wine.
Kai and I look at each other in disbelief. Savage never lets anyone touch his most prized possession: the second-hand electric guitar he bagged groceries for a year to be able to afford.
When Titus sees my brother and me, he abruptly stops playing and looks sheepish. “We were just messing around till you got back.”
“He’s incredible, guys!” Savage blurts excitedly. “Holy shit, Titus! Play something else.”
“He’s a great singer, too,” Ruby offers proudly. She’s now standing behind her keyboard, patiently awaiting her chance to dazzle us.
“Not as good as you, though,” Titus replies.
“Wait, you both play and sing?” Savage asks.
“We grew up playing with our parents,” Ruby explains, like it’s no big deal. “They were in a band in college. Our mom’s a music teacher now.”
Savage looks thoroughly energized. Indeed, the dude is physically hopping from foot to foot with excitement. “Can you both sing harmonies?”
Both Ruby and Titus confirm as much. But they do it casually, like it’s nothing. Which means they both must be pretty good, because only people for whom harmonies come naturally think it’s nothing.
“We’re not looking for a second guitarist,” Kai interjects. “Savage plays guitar.”
“Like I said, I was just fooling around till you got back,” Titus says evenly as he heads to the couch, his stiff body language a mixture of “fuck this guy” and “I’m not gonna say what I’m thinking so I don’t blow this for my sister.”
For a longish moment, a thick silence hangs in the air. To fill it, I stride toward my drumkit, which prompts everyone else to start getting settled with their instruments, too. Finally, when it seems like we’re all set and ready to roll, I shoot an encouraging smile at Ruby. “Are you ready?”
“Sure,” she chirps. “Which of your songs would you like to start with?”
My eyebrows ride up. “You learned more than one of them?”
“I learned all of them.”
“All four?” When I sent Ruby our rough demos—the only four Fugitive Summer songs currently in existence—I only meant for her to learn one. And I’m positive I told her that.
“Take your pick,” I manage to say. “Whichever one you’re most excited to play.”
“Okay, can we start with ‘Little Demons,’ then? I love that one. I mean, I love all your songs. But that one really spoke to me.”
I shoot Savage a pointed grin. Damn, she’s good. “Little Demons” is Kai’s favorite of our four songs. Not surprisingly, since he’s the one who wrote the lion’s share of it.
“Sounds good,” Savage says smoothly. “Count us off, KC.”
I pause and clear my mind, getting the tempo in my head, and when I’ve got it, I click my sticks together at the right pace, counting us off. A moment later, we launch into the song … for the very first time, with four musicians instead of three.
“That was as good as sex,” Savage declares as he leans back onto the tattered, discarded couch we dragged into the basement a few months ago. Ruby and Titus, our band’s two newest members, just left, following a three-hour jam session that blew all our minds and quite possibly changed all our lives forever.
Right out of the gate on “Little Demons,” Ruby was a star. Everything she added to the tune was perfect—stuff that immediately made the song so much better. Fuller. Catchier. In particular, the subtle counter-melody lick she played to complement Kai’s bassline in the first verse was out of this world. Pure gold. And it only got better from there.
For instance, when we reached the first chorus and Ruby switched to a meandering synth riff that made the song feel kind of celestial and other-worldly—a touch demonic, you might even say—and all while singing pitch-perfect backing harmonies behind Savage’s kickass lead vocals, that was it. We all knew. We’d found our keyboardist. Even Kai started exchanging nods and electrified expressions with Savage and me at that point.
At Savage’s insistence, Titus got up to play Savage’s guitar on our second song, which then gave Savage the freedom to move around while singing, like the future rockstar he is. And I’ll be damned, by the end of that second song with all five of us playing, and Titus and Ruby supplying some perfect backing harmonies, a five-member band was born.
“That was better than most sex,” Kai retorts, one-upping Savage’s prior comment. “If I had to choose making music like that every day of my life but at the cost of only ever getting myself off with my hand, I’d do it. It was just that good.”