She shrugs. “Okay, I’m down, too. Just turn it off if we look like total fuck-ups, okay?”
“Okay,” Nadia agrees although I’m pretty sure she plans to let it run, regardless of what happens.
She turns my phone on and props it on her knee. “Introduce yourself,” she says in her beautiful, thick accent.
I shove my face up close to the screen. “Hey, I’m Flynn Taylor, and we are the Storytellers. It’s our weekly rehearsal, so lower your expectations–this is where we just kind of fuck around to figure shit out.” I grin and wink and back up. “You guys want to introduce yourselves??” I ask my bandmates.
Story’s at the whiteboard writing down a playlist, so Lake comes over to introduce himself then Ty. When Story’s done, she skips the intro, but goes to her stool in the center and waves. “I’m Story Taylor, and no, we’re not married.” She points between us. “I’m Flynn’s big sister.”
“Except I’m the big one.” I look up from tuning my electric guitar to smirk.
“Yes, he’s been bigger than me since he was thirteen–the big jerk.” To us, she mutters, “Counting in. Five, six-five, six, seven, eight.”
Ty starts the drum beat, and I add in on our newest original song, written by Story.
We finish and she gives us a few notes, then we run it again. We play three more songs and take a break.
I’ve been dying to try the new song I wrote today on the electric guitar, so while they drink their water and check their phones, I start up.
“Is that new?” Story asks.
“Yeah. It’s for Nadia.” I glance her way, and my breath whooshes from my chest when I catch the look she gives me in return.
She positively glows. Her smile doesn’t smolder, and it isn’t sunny–but it’s somewhere in between. Her brown eyes are warm and the gold and copper lights in her hair seem to match her energy. She looks like a goddess sitting there, just blessing us with her angelic presence.
I start over, trying out the words.
CHAINED in the dark with the devil
He tried to eat you whole
You think you might need to settle
I know you’ll have it all.
I GIVE it a low grungy sound with my voice–reminiscent of Kurt Cobain. Ty trots to the drum set and joins with a slow beat. Story freezes, watching me with wide eyes, like she’s transfixed, then she grabs her guitar and starts a punk riff.
I repeat the first stanza now that I have the other instruments then cut to the bridge. I don’t have words for this part yet, but it’s the melody Nadia inspired last night.
“That’s good,” Story encourages when I fumble. “Keep going.”
Lake picks up the bass and joins us.
I screw around with it a little more. “Now it goes back to the beginning.” I sing the next lines.
I go back to the bridge, then to the hook.
“I don’t know the words right here, yeah” I sing, and Ty and Lake laugh over the music.
I’m wrapped up in the collaborative creation process–the magic that happens when we’re all vibing together to make a song. When I look back at Nadia, I see she has tears streaming down her face. Not sad tears–at least I don’t think so. Her expression is serene as she listens, but her face is wet.
She’s still holding my phone propped on her knee. I’d forgotten she was live streaming this whole time.
“Try the hook again–I have an idea,” Story says. I start over, and she adds some bad-ass chords in the background as I sing and play the chorus.
“Yes!” I send her a grin as I continue playing. This is the advantage of working with family. Story and I have literally been raised on music together. We both learned to play guitar before we could read, and we have an insane repertoire to draw from.
This is my joy–the place I feel most at home. Most me. Is it any wonder I don’t want to fuck this up by getting ambitious and then disappointed when things don’t pan out the way I wanted them to?
NADIA
Tiktok is going crazy over the Storytellers. Even though all I’m doing is holding the phone, I’m proud to be a part of it all.
I try not to read all the comments, though, because while there’s a lot of love for Flynn, the fangirls are hating on me. Hard. Especially when they figure out Flynn’s writing a song for me.
The band keeps messing around, trying the song different ways until they like it. It’s amazing to watch their process.
Adrian opens the door at one point and looks in. His gaze bounces on me and rests, and I picture myself through his eyes. I must seem so different because I’m totally comfortable and at home with my foot propped on the chair and the phone on my knee, watching the band play with a wide smile. He watches me for a moment then backs out and leaves without saying anything.
For once, it seems like he believes I’m okay.
I believe I’m okay.
They try the song again and when they finish, Oleg, who is normally so stoic you can’t even tell if he’s paying attention, sits forward and claps his hands.
I stop the live stream and grin at him. “Forty-one thousand views. You just gained three thousand new followers, and you’re up twenty thousand since yesterday’s stream. You’re famous, Flynn Taylor.”
He walks over and kisses me, and warmth floods me right down to my toes.
I show him the screen of the Tiktok, and a DM comes in from Cadence. “Oh, um, I think she private messaged you last time I live streamed, too.”
He rolls his eyes and takes the phone without even opening the message. “She needs to get a clue. Desperation isn’t a good look on anybody.”
Lake looks over. “Who is that?”