* * *
Raine’s spoken voice broke through the recording again. “No. This isn’t working. This is fucked.”
Quentin remembered telling her something like, “No, we’ve got some good stuff to work with.”
But she’d insisted on starting over—and there was another hour of starts and stops…and Quentin knew now that he could work with it to craft a song worthy of Raine.
It didn’t hurt that, later that day, she’d played a few tunes on the keyboard using the piano setting—and she’d wound up coming up with an acoustic guitar track that Quentin knew could be the tune.
There was a song here. The problem was that Raine hadn’t been trusting herself. And the music they’d been playing while she’d recorded her voice had forced her to be too rigid, the tempo too demanding.
All he had to do was remove some things…and he knew he could unveil the song that had been missing. He was going to take one piano track, slow it down, and then take her words—including the breaths, the pauses, the places where her voice was thin or cracking due to emotion—and craft the song they hadn’t been able to see before. There would be imperfections there…shaky breaths, lines that weren’t exactly clean—but that was the beauty of it. Fortunately, she’d used the same basic tune throughout the recording—and her voice combined with the one guitar track blended with her voice like a puzzle piece fitting in its place.
The song wouldn’t be perfect…but it would be Raine through and through—and that was the best part of it all.
He listened to it several times, resisting the urge to touch it again, until he was satisfied.
Then, before he changed his mind, he sent it to her via email, copying it to the label, and said, “This is the final track we’d been working on. It’s finished.”
It would be up to them if they wanted to use it on the album. It would be up to Raine if she wanted to rehearse this final version and sing it on tour. But at least she’d have that choice.
After clicking send, he listened to the track again and then decided he was going to show up during her tour. He needed her to know he cared.
He loved her and had been too fucking weak to show it. But that was what he had to do—he had to show up—even if she rejected him. He owed her that much.
After emailing the label again, it wasn’t long before he got what he’d asked for: a list of her tour dates and locations…and he made arrangements to be at her final show in Los Angeles at The Greek Theater in April.
Not to ask for a single thing…but to prove to himself he could be there.
Chapter 27
Raine knew her comeback was complete when she received the actual tour offer from the label. They’d said her single was showing real momentum and it was time to support the album. They still had a month before release, but they were already pondering a second single.
Mal called her soon after and said, “Let’s talk about this tour. It might not be the best move for you.”
For a second, she paused, wondering why she wasn’t afraid to tour now. But she knew—she actually wanted to share this album with her fans. Her voice quiet, she said, “I’m doing the tour whether you want me to or not.”
He actually said “Okay.” And Raine felt a small sense of pride that she’d stood up for herself—not in anger or aggression or like a cornered animal, but as a fully realized woman ready to take what was hers. He worked for her and that would be their relationship from here on out. Mal would either take it or go elsewhere…and she no longer cared. She felt now as if she could do a lot of advocating for herself.
And she felt proud of the work on the album…but it felt like a hollow victory. Quentin had done a great job shaping it…guiding her, drawing out some of the things she’d kept hidden, showing her potential.
That was all true, but that wasn’t all he’d done. He’d also broken her.
She’d allowed herself to fall in love with him, to show him parts of herself no one had ever seen…and he’d slowly backed away, as if from an animal with bared teeth until, at the end, he’d completely vanished.
So, even though she was satisfied with her work on the album, she could feel Quentin all through it, in every single song, every last line. Still, she committed to showcasing this album for her fans—but then she was going to move on, and there would be no looking back. It wouldn’t take long to record another album and put all this behind her.
It had to be done and she was eager to get there.
Several days after she received the tour offer, she checked her email and saw a message from Quentin. At first, she didn’t believe it.
Tempted to delete it outright, the subject line demanded she open it. It said Final track.
What the fuck was it?
His message in the email was simple: “This is the final track we’d been working on.”
That stream-of-consciousness “here’s my life story” track that had gone nowhere?
