“Yeah, love you, dipshit,” Gus sings into the phone, before sending the message and handing it to Keller. “You mind getting some video for us?”
Keller takes it and says, “Sure. What are you gonna play?”
Gus looks at us and asks, “Ideas?”
Jess is standing next to me behind a mic stand. “‘Killing the Sun’?” he suggests.
Keller whistles his approval, and Stella cheers, “Do it, Uncle Gus.”
I look at Jess like he’s lost his goddamn mind. “Are you for real right now? You want us to sing Gus Hawthorneto Gus Hawthorne?”
He looks relaxed. “Yeah. We all know the song.”
I blow out a breath and tease, “You’ve got bigger balls than I do, Jess.”
“You can do it, Ever,” Benji says, and when I look at him, he nods once at me in solidarity. God, I love this kid.
Gus points at Jess. “First verse.” Then points at me. “Second verse. You both sing the chorus, and then I’ll join in for the bridge and the final chorus. Sound good?”
Jess nods and I say, “Yeah, sounds good. I’m going off memory, but the bassline is fairly repetitive, right?”
Gus nods. “Yeah. You wanna play through with me alone first?”
We do, and Gus talks me through it. Within minutes, we’re ready to go.
I look at Keller. “If this is a disaster, promise me you’ll delete the evidence.”
He laughs. “No chance it’ll be a disaster.”
My nerves fade the second the song begins. It’s usually that way, but this feels different. Yes, we’re in a studio with musicians I’ve looked up to for years, but for the first time in my career, I’m in a studio with people who want to collaborate and try new things. There’s no formula to follow or deadline to meet. There’s freedom to experiment and see what works. To share ideas and be heard. The elephant that’s been sitting on my chest for the past two years has finally gone. That pressure had been lessening little by little the past month, but, at least tonight, I don’t feel it at all.
There’s not a lot of room to move around, so Jess is forced to stand behind the mic stand. He belts out the song like he’s singing to a crowd of thirty thousand, not three. Stella dancesand reaches down to grab Benji’s hand and pull him up with her. He joins in like he’s known her for years, not hours, and I make a mental note to tell Soph and Lola about this.
Franco’s punishing the drums. Some drummers play with efficiency, limiting movement to what’s necessary to produce sound. Franco’s the opposite. He’s fueled by emotion, and it’s fun to watch. And then there’s Gus, who’s always made playing the guitar look not only effortless, but incredibly cool. In person, it’s even better.
How is this my life? I’ve played to sold-out stadium crowds and headlined festivals, but tonight is quickly climbing to the top of my career favorite moments list. It’s going to be hard to top playing with my idols.
As the thought pops into my head, I join Jess for the first chorus. I sing harmony, and Franco was right, we sound good.
Keller whistles again, and when I lead into the second verse, he’s smiling ear-to-ear and nodding his head along in time with the drums.
“Get it!” Jess yells to cheer me on.
My body is humming. This has only happened a few times over the years when the stars align, and the audience, the venue, and the song create such a buzz that it resonates like a tuning fork internally. It’s a high like nothing else.
Jess leans in to join me for the chorus. When our eyes lock, he nods at me, and like we rehearsed it, I take the lead and he sings harmony. Because this song has become an anthem over the years, Gus takes liberties with the chorus when he performs it live. I do the same. The scream comes from the pit of me as I fall into the bridge with Gus and Jess.
I can hear the rumble of approving laughter and a faint, “Fuck yeah,” before Gus takes the final chorus.
I usually don’t smile when I sing, but as the guitar fades out, I find that I am.
When I look around the room, everyone else is too.
Franco stomps his bass drum once and shakes his head. “Whose idea was it for you two to sing together? Because he’s a fucking genius.”
“God, I hate it when you’re right. It’s so fucking annoying,” Gus says.
Franco nods. “It worked, though,” he says, and he’s uncharacteristically serious.
