“What is your schedule like today?” I ask.
“Well, I’m taking care of mum first and foremost. Then I’ve still got to finish the speech before the wedding starts at three thirty. You?” Christopher hops up and down on one leg, struggling to get back into his jeans.
“I’m heading down to recordStolen Moments. Then we’ll leave the hotel around six for the show. Maybe you could swing by the room to hear the track before you head down to the wedding?” I pull at the belt loop on his jeans with my finger.
He pauses for a beat, a slight hesitation lining his mouth, and I remove my finger.
“I’m not sure. Between my mum, sister, and this speech, I don’t think I’ll have the time.” His mouth drops into the shape of a rainbow.
“Maybe my parents can take care of your mum for you? It would keep them off my back too,” I say. I’m desperate to turn his frown upside down, to get more time with him.
“I’d love to, but I don’t need to be footing their therapy bills too.” Christopher’s face is deadpan as he buttons up his shirt.
“Come on, she can’t be that bad.”
“Ever seen a tornado, wrapped in emotional guilt? Well, that’s my mum.”
“Well, they’re gonna have to meet at some point if we’re to get married one day.”
“Married?” Christopher stops midway through sliding a sock on his foot.
“Well, you know. Maybe one day,” I say, instantly regretting ever using the word.
It’s been four hours since I left the suite to come here and recordStolen Moments, and I still can’t shake the look on Christopher’s face from my mind. The stupid duvet over my head doesn’t help. The heavy fabric makes me feel like I’m suffocating, but Freddy convinced me to use it as a makeshift sound barrier to block out any background noise from the rest of the room.
“Once again, from the top of the second verse.” Freddy says through the headphones.
The metronome clicks over the production to keep me in time as the last of the chorus from an earlier take plays out, leading into the instrumental for the second verse.
Freddy has done an excellent job with the production. He considered all the notes I gave him last night for what I envisioned the track to sound like and worked through the night to bring it to life.
“Nailed it!” Freddy says, when I finish the second verse.
I fight my way out from under the duvet, flinging it off me and onto the floor by the window overlooking the atrium below. There seems to be a large collection of people by the champagne bar, all in suits and dresses, who I assume must be here for Kelly and Daniel’s wedding.
The hotel room door opens, and Rob appears with three Brewed cups as I head over to sit next to Freddy at the desk. His laptop is open, with a mini-electric keyboard in front and Logic files stacked on screen from the recording. A scattering of empty Brewed cups, large San Pellegrino water bottles, and an empty bowl of Chipotle cover the rest of the table.
“Here you go.” Rob passes the coffees to Freddy and me.
“Thanks, big guy,” Freddy says, nodding, as Rob reaches for his back pocket.
“I saw this in the shop just down from Brewed and had to get it for you,” he says. “That way I’ll know when not to disturbyou.” He lets out a chuckle as he swings a door hanger on his index finger.
I grab it from him, reading the sign, and burst out laughing as I turn it over.
Do Not Disturb is written in small letters across the top. Then in the middle, BUSY FUCKING is painted in bold white letters. There’s a silhouette of two people going at it underneath.
“This is genius!” I pat Rob on the back and pass it to Freddy for him to see. “You think you could get me a couple more?”
“Sure.” Rob smiles at me.
This would be the perfect wedding gift for Kelly and Daniel. And for Christopher to have at his place, too.
Shit, Christopher. What time is it?
I look at my watch: 6:30 a.m. Right! I smack my forehead. LA time.
I grab my phone to see the real time, 2:30 p.m., and call him.
