I look at Lunar, who’s trying not to laugh.
She sounds like an idiot.
How can your skin and hair love someone?
She’s a fricking fruit cake!
Effa jumps on the spot and smiles wide. “Okay, so when I play the song, I want you to envisage a cloud of white light enveloping you and entering every pore of your body. Ineedyou to feel the connection to the lyrics and to the harmony. Okay?”
Taking a steadying breath, I can’t stop my lips from pursing into a tight line. “Yep… okay,” I say simply to appease her.
She pulls out her cell and opens an app. I look at Lunar, who shrugs, then turns back to Effa.
This chick has seriously smoked too much of the wacky-tobaccy in her time.
She presses a button and takes a deep breath. “Okay, close your eyes,” she instructs, then closes her eyes, putting her hands out in front of her. One of her hands holds her cell, while the other is palm-out, facing me. “My aura reading says your eyes aren’t closed, Danger. Close them and imagine the white cloud of light,” she instructs before the beat kicks in.
I glance at Lunar while shaking my head. She rolls her eyes, but then closes them.
I figure, what the hell, it won’t hurt. So I close my eyes, but I certainly don’t envisage any ball of fucking light.
My parents are the hippies—I certainly amnot.
The music drifts through the room.
The riffs and the beats are all similar to Recoil’s.
Ryan was fucking right.
Their soundisgood, and I sit up straighter on the bed. Then suddenly, Effa’s voice filters through the cell, and my chest tightens. It’s commanding, husky, and robust, utterly captivating, drawing me into a trance. It’s incredible, and I know instantly her vocal style will work brilliantly with mine and that this is theperfectmove for our two bands.
My eyes snap open when the song reaches its crescendo. Effa’s eyes are still closed as she sways to her own music, embodying a true free spirit.
I stand, striding over to her, grabbing the cell, and stopping the song. She opens her eyes, her body jolts, and falls slightly like she’s been woken from a deep sleep. She furrows her brows, gazing at me, her lips downturned.
“You broke the white light. You don’t like the music?” she queries, her expression deflating.
Lunar opens her eyes wide in astonishment, unable to fathom how I couldn’t appreciate what I’d just heard.
“No, you have me wrong. I’m shocked that such a powerful, enigmatic voice can come from something as petite as you,” I clarify.
“Good vocal coaching. So… what’s the verdict?”
“I say we write a song. You and me. A hardcore love rock anthem. Intense emotion, something to catch people off-guard,” I suggest.
She rises onto her toes and claps her hands together, gazing at the ceiling. “Praise Gaia, I’m thrilled you’ve seen the light!”
“Well, sometimes we all have to step out of our comfort zones. Someone remarkable recently showed me that.” I glance at Lunar and think how brave she’s been lately. Her courage is truly inspirational.
“Okay, so we have a few weeks of rehearsals before we kick off the tour. We need to make sure we have nailed this song by then, right?” Effa asks.
“Yes, we should have it polished and ready for the tour. If we can get it playing on the radio during the opening week of the tour, that would be ideal,” I respond.
“Right, so tomorrow… you, me, a writing party we will be.”
“Yes. Good thinking, Effa.”
“I’m not just a pretty face.” She pops out her hip, which makes Lunar and me laugh.
