I throw an apple from the bowl at his head. “Shut the fuck up,” I argue, so embarrassed right now that I don’t even know what to say.
“I’m getting you a splash pad for Christmas. What the fuck, Bed!”
His laughter howls around the space.
“What are we going to do with this?!” he asks as I reach the couch.
“I don’t know! I don’t—Help me,” I finally manage, now laughing at myself.
“I’m never letting you live this down,” he declares.
“Zeb!” I shove him. “Dude, help. What am I going to do?”
“I mean at this point, it needs to be burned,” he says. “I’m sure the rest of the fam have fucked on this couch, too.”
“Yeah, well… Apparently, I’m the only one who gets this much fun out of dreams,” I lie. I scratch the back of my head. “What do we do?”
“Um… We get a new one,” he says pointedly.
“Oh, really? We’re going to put together a new couch before Mads and Reed get here, and then pretend like it never happened?” I ask.
“It’s seven A.M. Yes,” he says. “We have people who can make this happen.”
“What do we tell Mads and Reed? They’re going to notice a new couch.”
“We lie,” he says, like it’s obvious.
I press my hands to my hips, considering his plan. “So, who do we call?”
But Zeb already has his phone out and is tapping on a number. He presses it to his ear, and I swear I hear our tour manager answer with, “What did you do?”
Zeb scoffs. “Hey, Stels. Bon and I need a favor.”
Thank fuck for this fucker.
I’m still thanking the universe that Mads and Reed don’t show up to the studio until a few hours later—long enough for Stella to call one of her people at a local furniture place and have it delivered, the old one thrown out, all before ten A.M.
It’s actually nicer than the couch that was in here previously.
By the time Mads and Reed eventually join us, I’m listening to the bass rhythm that Mads laid down for our next track on my oversized cat-ear headphones. My phone is in the basket by the window, out of sight so I don’t get distracted. I have the flat rhythm down, ready to record whenever he is, but I’m playing around with the extra embellishments while they eat the food Andi picked up at a place down the street.
I have a hard time eating when important shit is on the line. I’ll probably take bites of a chocolate cronut from now until our sushi dinner unless one of them eventually forces me to stuff my face.
A hand touches my shoulder. I jerk my head back, finding Mads coming around the end of the new sectional, smiling as he approaches with a take-out box in his hand.
“I’m digging the new couch,” he says, sitting near me. “Thanks for that.”
“Ah… yeah. Yeah. Gift to you guys for setting this place up for us,” I lie, pushing my headphones to my neck.
“What are you playing with?” he asks about the music.
“Rose Hall,” I answer with the name of the song.
He smiles broadly. “You like that one?”
“I’d love to hear the lyrics,” I answer. “I think I have the flat line ready.”
He nods. “Reed, you have the Rose Hall paper I gave you?” he calls over his shoulder.
