Giving Chase (Incendiary Ink #1)

35. The Best – Chase

The Best

CHASE

"Let's take it from the second verse," Raphael's voice comes through the intercom. "Chase, try pulling back on that bass line just a touch. Let Mark's guitar breathe there."

We're four hours into today's session, working on what might be our first single. Joe adjusts something on the board while Raphael leans forward, that intense focus I remember from our last three albums.

"Rolling," Joe announces. "Take seventeen."

The new songs feel different. Cleaner. Not just because I'm sober, but because I'm finally writing from a place of peace instead of pain. No more hiding meanings in metaphors. No more disguising love songs as ballads about nameless muses.

"Cut." Raphael again. "Will, that fill in the bridge - do it again, but think about what you did in take twelve. That pocket was perfect."

“Take twelve? Really?” Will laughs, wiping his sweaty hands on a towel. “You expect me to remember that far back?”

Mark and I both turn to him in unison, smirks on our faces. “Yes. We do.”

The studio door opens and Eliza appears with bags of takeout. Still in her work suit, obviously between meetings. The sight of her here, openly bringing lunch to her boyfriend's recording session, still feels like a small miracle.

"Perfect timing," Raphael says. "I need fresh ears on this bridge anyway. Thirty minutes?"

The control room fills with the rustle of takeout bags and appreciation for the break. Even James is here today, between meetings about marketing strategies and distribution deals.

"How's it going?" Eliza asks, settling beside me on the studio couch.

"Your boyfriend's being disgustingly happy in all the new songs," Will informs her, already reaching for the food. "It's terrible for our rock credibility."

"Horrible," Mark agrees around a mouthful of sandwich. "People might actually realize we're good musicians instead of just tortured artists."

"Play her the new bridge," Joe suggests from his spot by the board.

I grab my bass, start the riff we've been perfecting all morning. Eliza's eyes light up - she's always loved watching the process, even back when we had to pretend it was purely professional interest.

"That's gorgeous," she says when I finish. "The key change in the middle..."

"Told you she'd catch that," Will tells Mark. "Pay up."

"You bet on whether I'd notice the key change?"

"We bet on how fast you'd notice," Mark corrects. "Will said under ten seconds. I gave you at least thirty. Clearly underestimated your musical ear."

"Clearly underestimated how well she knows our sound," I say.

"Alright, children," Raphael cuts in, though he's smiling. "Break's over. Chase, I want to try that bass line with a different mic setup. Joe's got some ideas."

The next few hours fly by in a blur of takes and adjustments. The songs come alive under our hands - familiar enough to be Incendiary Ink, but evolved. Grown up. Like us.

"One more pass at the chorus," Raphael says around six. "Then we'll call it. Fresh ears tomorrow."

Eliza left hours ago for meetings but promised to come back. Tonight's her place. My toothbrush has a permanent spot in her bathroom, just like half her closet seems to live at my house now.

The final take flows perfectly. Everything clicking into place like it was always meant to be this way. The music, the band, the love I don't have to hide anymore.

"That's good," Raphael announces. "Really good. See you all tomorrow at ten?"

Will and Mark pack up, heading home to their own lives, their own loves. Joe starts shutting down the board while James makes one last call about distribution rights.

Eliza appears in the doorway just as I'm putting away my bass. Perfect timing, as always.

"Ready?" she asks. "I was thinking takeout and bed. I have that early board meeting, but..."

"But you sleep better when I'm there?" I finish for her.

"Exactly."