Feuds and Interludes (Rock ‘n’ Romance Legends #1)

Chapter 23

Twenty-Three

S hane

I continued to be impressed by Boone. Not only had he faced the music and told other people about his illness, but he lived up to his reputation of being a wonder in the studio. His relentless pursuit of perfection was a little dizzying, but it was incredible to observe. At times he took Morrison’s place at the board and moved things around like he was the fucking wizard behind the curtain. Morrison and Leland gave him feedback, but they mostly just did as instructed.

When it became my turn to play the slide part on the guitar, Boone turned that focus on me and I was a little intimidated. He perched on a footstool in front of where I sat on the couch, with his knees up and his hair tucked behind his ears.

“How do you want me to play it?” I asked as I warmed up on my Les Paul. It was one Pops had given me and it was a favorite of my collection.

“Here’s the part.” He picked up his Strat and proceeded to play a more complicated riff than I was expecting. I loved watching his hands as he played, his graceful fingers gliding along the fret board with ease. I had a much more caveman style than he did. Not that I couldn’t play quick or delicate, but I got a little more percussive, like Pops did. I guess I took after him.

“That’s…wow. Okay.”

“What do you think?” he asked. “I thought the slide would take it just a little bit further.”

“I agree,” I said. “But what if you simplified it a bit and added some vibrato here.” I played through what he showed me, making a few changes.

He watched with interest, then he reached over and moved my finger on a string. “Try it again.”

It was so natural for him to touch me, and so unusual for me to accept being corrected like that. If I wasn’t already under his spell, I might worry about this change of heart in me.

He was leaning so close to me, his hair fell forward and brushed my fingers, which frustrated him. He pulled a hair tie off his wrist and did some complicated twisty thing with his hair, piling it on top of his head. He picked up his Strat again and played along with me, watching my fingers move.

“It sounds so much better when you play it.”

“Maybe it’s the guitar. You try it.” I handed my Gibson to Boone, and he played a few scales.

“Man, your action is high on this. What gauge strings do you use?”

“Right now it’s got an eleven set, but I changed these two strings to thirteens. I use this guitar specifically for playing slide. I’ve fucked around with it a lot to get it where I want it.”

He grinned at me and noodled around a bit. Then he played the part again and his eyes lit up.

“It sounds so good,” he said, playing it a few more times, and then he handed it back to me. “Now try it with the slide. I feel so clunky when I try to play slide. You do it.”

“Clunky is not a term I’d ever think of to describe your playing,” I said, laughing as I slid the metal slide on my ring finger.

He tilted his head and smirked at me. “Thanks. All right. Let’s hear it with the slide.”

“Yes, sir.”

He barked out a laugh and then brought his knees back up as he watched me play.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Again.”

Once I played the part through three times, Morrison was ready to record. I put on the headphones and listened to the tracks Bran, Annie, and Boone had already recorded. I let myself get lost in the dreamy tune. It was one where you wouldn’t expect to hear a slide used, but that was the genius of it.

I played my bit and then looked up at Boone, who had his hands clasped in front of his chin. He was grinning like a loon, bouncing in his seat.

“Yes, yes, yes! That was…” Hemade the chef’s kiss motion, and as soon as I set the guitar down, he bent forward and threw his arms around my neck, sprawling onto my lap. I laughed as he practically tackled me and wrapped my arms around him.

Annie groaned, Morrison aww ed, and Leland laughed.

“All right, lovebirds. Shall we record the vocals?”

Boone climbed off me and pulled me up from the couch. “This is going to be fun.”

“Yeah, well, no fun ny business in the booth,” Bran shouted. “There are children present.”

“I know you’re speaking of yourself,” Annie said. “I’m forty-six seconds older than you and I’m no child.”

“I was talking about Leland, but okay.”

Leland continued laughing. “Man, those two kill me.”

Boone grabbed his tablet and pulled me into the vocals booth. He handed me a pair of headphones and bounced on his toes.

“How do you want to do it?” he asked.

“I mean, I usually like a little more room to maneuver,” I cracked, knowing full well the mics were hot.

“Gross!” the twins shouted in unison.

“I promise, no funny business,” I said, raising my hands. “Why don’t you sing it through and then once I hear the part, we can decide on the harmony.”

He shivered. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to hear what we sound like together.”

We put on our headphones and Morrison played the track.

I was not ready to be in an enclosed space with Boone and that fucking voice of his. He closed his eyes and started off low and sultry with the first verse, and I broke out in goose bumps. Then he opened up when he got to the second verse, and I could hardly breathe. By the time he reached the chorus, there was so much emotion in his voice as he sang, my heart squeezed in my chest. I thought I couldn’t take any more, but then the section where I’d played the slide part came on and he opened his eyes and smiled at me, a bit out of breath himself.

When the lyrics came back in, he belted out his soul, emotions laid bare, and he climbed to a ridiculously high note, his voice cracking the tiniest bit more from emotion than from strain, it seemed, and then it abruptly ended on a gasp from him.

“Holy fuck,” I said when it was done. “Jesus, Boone.”

“I know, right?” He laughed, but then he coughed a few times, and he left the booth to get his inhaler.

I tried to catch my own breath.

My God, the man was talented. Hearing such a raw song had me thinking back to what Lydia had asked me, whether I’d grown. We were about to find out, because these vocals were not only going to push me to my own limits, but I was going to be singing a song about fucking longing , in a tiny booth, with a man who had gone from my nemesis and rival, to my lover to—God—my fucking musical soul mate in such a short time, I thought I must be suffering from emotional whiplash.

Which had me inspired.

Before Boone made it back to the booth, I whipped out my phone, opened my notes app and typed in the thoughts going through my head and heart.

You’re so close I can’t breathe

I never want to leave

But what if I do something rash

With this emotional whiplash

Will you follow me down

and follow me in

whatever the flesh

whatever the sin

You’re so close I want more

Don’t ever shut the door

Let’s do something rash

In this emotional whiplash

“You ready?” Boone shut the door behind him and handed me a bottle of water as I slid my phone back in my pocket.

“Ready,” I said, but I meant way more than singing a song with him. I wanted to take leaps I thought I’d never make with another person after the last two men I’d loved let me fall.

I was ready to take Boone into my arms, into my home, into my life, and never let him go. I was falling wildly in love with this vulnerable fucking sprite who could turn on the seduction with a flick of his hair and force me to my knees with the quirk of his lips. He was magical like the fucking fae in a fantasy book, and I had no defense against the influence he had on me. I didn’t want to fight it, even though my head was telling me to slow the fuck down, dial it back a notch.

He took a sip of water and his lips on the bottle were almost my undoing. I pulled him against me, and he chuckled as he dribbled a little water on my shirt.

“Oops.”

“Boone, I?—”

“You guys ready?” Morrison cut in. “Want to take it from the top, Boone? Or just that part?”

“Give us a minute,” Boone said into the mic. “Want to try without music first?”

“You tell me where you want me,” I said.

He wiggled his eyebrows and then he got serious. “Go where you want,” he said. He cleared his throat and he sang the part. I focused on reading the lyrics the first time, then I hummed along with him. The third time, I came in under him.

The fourth time he sang it, I pushed myself and managed to climb higher than him.

“Holy shit, Shane!” Leland shouted, while Morrison tossed his headphones to the side, grabbed his head and stomped around the control room shouting, “ Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, fuck yeah!”

Boone pressed his hands to his mouth and laughed. “Goddammit, Butler. That was fucking hot !”

I tried to play it off. I hadn’t been sure I could even hit those notes. I couldn’t believe I’d tried it in front of Boone.

“I’m not even sure what I did,” I laughed. “Which one did you like best?”

“All of it! Fucking hell! More! Can we do it both ways and you can like wrap him all around me like a fuzzy blanket, with a little phaser on top?”

“On it!”

“I could kiss you right now,” Boone said to me. “I love the way we sound together.”

I loved the way we were together.

“Who’d a thunk?” I said with a laugh.

“Oh my God! I was just saying that to myself this morning. Right? Who’d have ever thought they’d hear Butler and Collins on a record together? Who’d a thunk, indeed.”

We stood there grinning at each other like loons, and it was almost as if a partnership was forming tangibly between us, right there in the vocals booth.

“All right. Let’s fucking do this!”

Morrison was still doing some strange sort of dance moves like a deranged disco zombie in the control room when we heard the music come through the headphones. I watched Boone closely. He began to sing the part and when it was time for me to come in, I did the lower part first, and his face lit up when he heard us together through the headphones. He was grinning so wide, he made me grin, which made it hard to stay on pitch. Once again, he had the slightest amount of strain on that ludicrous note and when he dropped it, he started coughing again.

“Hey, maybe we should take a break?”

He shook his head. “No, let me just drink some tea and honey. Bran? You mind getting me some?”

Bran gave a thumbs up and dashed out of the studio.

Annie was watching us closely through the control room window, and I couldn’t tell what her expression meant. She’d been awfully mad when she realized that I knew about Boone’s illness. I hoped we could be cool. In no way did I want to come between Boone and his band. I liked the twins. They were fucking insanely good musicians and, once I realized they weren’t really going to cause me bodily harm, they were hilarious. But I could see concern in her gaze. I needed to assure her that I had Boone’s best interest in mind.

“Have your tea,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m going to go use the bathroom.”

He nodded, his smile a little less bright. He had a hand pressed to his throat.

“Hey, how’s your sugars?”

He looked at his phone. “They’re okay. I’ll be fine after I have my tea.”

I squeezed his hand and stepped out of the booth.

“He good?” Annie asked me as I passed her.

“He’s frustrated about that note. I told him he should take a break?—”

“And he didn’t listen. Shit. Okay. Time to implement distraction maneuvers.”

I frowned and watched as Annie walked into the booth and she and Boone talked. She led Boone out of the booth and over to where her bass was plugged in. I turned on the mic to hear them.

“I’m just not sure about that break. Can we go over it together?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He picked up another bass and the two of them played the part over and over until I realized that, holy shit, she was genius. By asking him for help on something I’d already heard her play flawlessly, she got him out of his head and forced him to rest his voice. I wondered how long she’d been doing this with him. I’d have to study under her tutelage so I could be useful. Boone wouldn’t take breaks for himself, but for his friends, he would go to the ends of the earth.

“Oh, good, she got him to stop,” Bran said as he returned with the tea.

“This happen a lot?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. Especially the past couple of recording sessions. He pushes himself so hard, strains his voice, and ever since he started feeling bad on our last tour, we’ve had to conspire against him.”

“Brilliant. Feel free to include me in any conspiracies going forward.”

Bran elbowed me. “You’re all right, Butler. Glad you two finally got over yourselves. Man, the amount of mooning he did over you…” He shook his head.

“Mooning?”

“You know, ‘I don’t know why he hates me so much! He’s so talented!’ Blah blah blah. He’d make us watch interviews to see if you said anything about him. Shit. I probably shouldn’t have told you that part.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I don’t know why I always got asked about him. I tried not to talk shit, but people always gotta push.”

“Because it’s juicy, right? Especially after the Rock Hall gig. He wouldn’t shut up about you after that.”

“Yeah, well, it was mutual.”

“Good. It’s nice to see him happy. I just wish he’d told us about his illness. Damn. That’s scary shit. I knew something was wrong, but he’d just blow off our questions. He can be a moody fuck anyway, but when he doesn’t feel good and his body doesn’t cooperate, he’s inconsolable.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

He nodded. “I better get him his tea before it gets cold. Thanks, man,” he said.

“For what?”

“For taking care of him when he wouldn’t let us.”

Bran went into the sound room and handed Boone his tea. The three of them were super tight-knit. I was happy he had that. It made me want more, too. Whatever I decided to do next, I definitely wouldn’t settle for less than true bandmates, people I could trust to have my back.

Guess that meant getting used to letting people in.

Fuuuck.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out. “Hey, Pops. You good?”

“Sure, I’m great, only I had to hear the good news from Vera Jean. You and Boone, huh?”

“Yeah, it just sort of happened. Hadn’t had a chance to talk to you about it. I was going to talk to you about it tonight when you two get here.”

“And we kind of sprang our news on you last night without asking about you.”

“Yeah, you did,” I said, glad he realized it. “But we understood.”

“Well, it’s going to make for some interesting holidays, then, innit?”

“God, don’t make it weird, old man. Weirder than it already is.”

“I’m only taking the piss. I’m sorry about your band, son. What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure. Right now I’m hanging out in the studio with Boone.”

“Those ungrateful bastards. I’m sorry, son, but yer much better off without ‘em.” I loved when his Irish came out. I could tell he was truly pissed off then.

“It’s all good. Boone and I…we’re talking about doing some more stuff together. He asked me to join one of Stellar’s songs. Pops, he’s brilliant. He’s stunning in the studio. I’m more excited about this Rocktoberfest gig now that I’m playing with him and his band. We gotta decide which California and Brothers tunes to add to the setlist. What do you think?”

The old man chuckled. “I think it’ll be perfect whatever you lot decide to play. Ye’ll make this old man really happy.”

And when it came down to it, that’s all I wanted. To make him happy, and to make Boone happy. If that meant going beyond my comfort zone, so be it. The Metal Menace was on hiatus.