Worlds Apart

Chapter Nine

However staying still? Well, that I could do with my eyes open.

After what felt like hours, I managed to crawl onto my knees and then – with the help of the chair for some stability – I pulled myself onto my feet.

I took the time to slip my back pack on before I grabbed the cell phone that had been put into studio purgatory at the beginning of the session on the top of the board.

Thankfully I looked at the phone and all I saw was the time, no missed calls or angry messages sent in my direction. I could hope that they’d finally gotten the idea that when I was in the studio I refused to recognize anything that was included in real life, but I didn’t think I’d be so lucky.

The sure truth that I could gather from it was that it was almost two in the morning. Cash had dragged me out of bed at nine in the morning – far too early for any self-respecting rock star – and I’d been locked in here since nine thirty, with the exception of coffee, snack and pee breaks, sometimes talking to Sarah so I wouldn’t get cabin fever.

It was no wonder I just wanted to lie down and not move for the foreseeable future.

There was one highlight I could see had come from being locked away in the dark studio for so long. It meant that the building was almost certainly empty for once.

I almost sighed in relief at the realization.

For the past few days I’d felt like something out of a James Bond movie, I’d spent too great a percentage of my time sneaking about. And not only in the studio, but around my motel, down the street, at the pub, even the coffee shop. In general, I’d been skulking around the town and that wasn’t exactly an attractive prospect.

It would be a great liberation to not have to peer around the door before I exited.

The moment I opened the door, however, all those thoughts felt from my mind as quickly as a bird takes off. Only to be replaced with the sound of guitar.

I was struck immediately. It was amplified with a pedal that seemed to fray the edges of the notes like the worn corners of an ancient book. The warmth of the electric guitar yanked me close and tugged me forwards, and I didn’t resist one bit, just followed like I was on some sort of leash down the hallway. It felt like so long since I’d heard a well-played electric in person instead of on record.

All I’d been playing had been my acoustic with Cash, and however much I loved it, I was still longing for a taste of an electric. Anyways, it wasn’t the same listening to myself play. The last time I’d heard it had been in this very hallway when I’d first caught Cam playing in the courtyard, and that felt like eternities ago now.

The door had been closed into their studio lately, and with my skulking about I was trying very hard not to run into any of them. It was no wonder it had been so long.

Reminding of the fact I’d been doing all I could in order not to run into any member of The Bends, though I’d met Graham at the coffee and tea station a few times, I hesitated. That moment of pause wasn’t worth a thing, though, because the pedal was stepped on and the guitar became astronomically rougher and a singing was added.

When I’d first heard the guitar, I guessed who it was – who it could only be – though I hadn’t wanted to admit that it was him that was drawing me in like this. And now that the voice was added, there could be no doubt.

The simple singing technique was something I had only heard once before, and it was definitely unlike what I’d been hearing for years from The Bends. Logan was a great vocalist, to be sure, and he was uniquely him with his voice that could fill stadiums and go from coarse to soft as silk in a moment. But there was something that drew me in about the way Cam sang, I just hoped it was because I’d only heard him once before.