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She stands and kicks the stool behind her. It crashes to the floor, yet her gaze remains locked on me.
"Good. Now do the opposite."
Goddess Ariel has entered the studio.
***
We're two hours into what's turning into a very unproductive session. "Let's move on. That's not working either." Ariel pushes out a frustrated breath at the riff I created on the fly. It's a slow, intimate, quiet tune meant for a small stage and candlelight. Devil May Care plays concert halls and stadiums.
Ariel stands and paces back toward the sound booth, something she's done every time she's dissatisfied with what I've come up with. She leans one shoulder against the soundproof glass, her arms crossing in front of her, gaze lowered to the floor. My entire body tingles with an overpowering urge to please her. I just haven't a clue how.
For two hours, we've run up against a brick wall. Each of my attempts to get Ariel to open up has been met with resistance. We don't know each other. And until we do, we're not going to get anywhere. "My parents died in a car accident when I was in high school."
I toss the grenade and wait for the explosion.
She doesn't lift her head, merely nodding. "Hailey told me."
I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My family history isn't that secret ever since Hailey moved to the main stage. "Right." After our recording session in Boston, Hailey and Ariel kept in contact. They bonded over music and the shared experiences of being women in a male-dominated industry.
"I hope you've allowed yourself forgiveness." Ariel's tone fills with compassion, and I realize Hailey must have shared the entire story with her.
For Laredo's sixteenth birthday, I had saved up nearly enough money to buy him a guitar he had been dreaming about for years. A midnight-blue custom Fender Stratocaster. I had a custom engravement designed for the front of the guitar, and my parents drove two towns over to deliver the design for me. On their way home, they got into an accident on a road they would never have been on if I hadn't sent them on that mission.
For years, I carried the heavy guilty burden on my shoulders. I hid the guitar in the attic only for it to be discovered by Laredo last year, causing a rift in our relationship that nearly brought us to blows.
I lower my head and begin strumming. Music is my distraction. It took years and quite a few therapy sessions for it to sink in that I wasn't responsible for the accident, but the guilt won't completely leave me.
The tune I play is a song I've been working on about forgiveness, about grace, and about letting go of the past. It's in desperate need of lyrics which are Hailey's forte. But she's busy touring and getting her new world in order. She's told me a dozen times I have everything I need to become a brilliant lyricist. Almost everything. There's one ingredient missing, one I didn't dare mention to her.
Lost in the tune, I fail to realize Ariel is standing next to me. It's the first time all day my eyes aren't glued to her. She rests her hand on my shoulder and hums along to the tune.
"My mom kicked me out of the house during the spring semester of my senior year in high school," Ariel whispers. I don't dare turn. I don't dare speak.
Her voice cracks as she continues, "I thought she was joking. We had our knockdown drag outs before. I was a wild child. An only child. But I hadn't done anything more than my friends had done. What everyone our age did."
She scratches her nail across the back of my neck and then blows a warm breath across it. I'm not sure she's even aware of what she's doing, but my body most certainly is. I want to turn. I want to get a closeup look at her puckered lips. But I continue to play.
"I spent the first night at my friend Santiago's house. He turned my surprise visit into an impromptu slumber party. I showed up at my home early the next morning, prepared to eat crow and deliver empty promises." I hear a sniffle in her voice, and she paces away from me. She grabs her stool, and this time my eyes refuse to cooperate. I watch her long, lean legs approach. The temperature rises in the room, and she steps around me. The stool swings in her hand and disappears from my sight line. She stops moving behind me, and I hear the clash of wood on wood as she presses her stool against mine. She hops on, her back pressed against mine. It's an intimate move, similar to her sharing her history with me and I feel honored that she feels safe enough to share.
"My clothes had been stuffed into an old suitcase and plastic garbage bags tossed on the lawn. My schoolbooks and stuff in a backpack, and my mom stood in the doorway." Ariel presses her weight against my back, and I take it. I hold her up.
"I never thought she'd go through with it." She must've graduated high school over a dozen years ago, yet it sounds as if she's reliving a memory from yesterday. I stop strumming, an overriding need to turn and comfort her. "Keep playing," she orders.
I pause, uncertain if I should continue.
"Please." Her plea pushes me forward. I pluck, softer this time.
"She tossed me away like last week's garbage. I never felt so alone in my life." Her long audible slow, shaky exhale floats in the air and I bite my lip. "A week later, my mother chased me down at a friend's house. She called and told me I could come home." I feel the shift in her body. Her shoulders become rigid. "I refused."
I hear the fire in her voice. An I'll burn the world to the ground sound I recognize from her early tunes. "If you start a fight with me, be prepared to go all the way." She states the line not like a motto but like a warning. One which her history is sprinkled with.
"I had friends. Friends who let me couch surf until graduation. What the hell did I need a mother for, anyway?" She spits out the last word with a mix of anger and hurt.
We sit in peace for three heartbeats, and I let the music fade away to silence. I don't know the words to say, but I know what I want to do. "She didn't show up for graduation, and I took that as the final straw it was. What parent does that?" I feel her weight shift, agitation in her movements. "I snuck into the house the next day when I knew she wouldn't be home to get the rest of my stuff." She pauses, and I hear the pain in her voice. I feel it in the shake of her body against my back. She's just opened up and is in desperate need of comfort. I lower my guitar and twist just as the door to the studio opens.
I stand and capture Laredo's red-lined eyes as he enters. He has his guitar case strap across his shoulder and a cup of coffee in his hand. From the entranceway, he's facing Ariel. His brow furrows in confusion for a split second as he takes her in. His gaze flash in my direction before returning to her.
He lowers his guitar to the floor, along with his coffee. He steps to her with open arms. She hops off the stool, never looking in my direction once, and rushes toward him. He wraps her in a tight embrace. One hand on her lower back and the other on the back of her head.
