Page 89 of Worth the Fight

“That remains to be seen,” I murmur to myself as I collect my trash and stand. “You ready for me to be more of a pain in your ass?”

“Bring on the pain.”

We laugh as we enter the studio. The humor lasts us for the first two hours and then slowly begins to dissipate with each repeated take. With every lyric I ask Jett to sing again. With each one of my requests to start over.

“Dude, I’m done for,” Jett says as he dives headfirst into the couch in the studio.

The night has turned to early morning, time unknown since the soundproof booth is windowless.

“You’re such a pussy, Kroger. What’s it been? A whole month since you were in here last? Everything is exactly how you want it—the light, the thermostat, the whiskey—and you still can’t hang? Dude, we’re going to have to revoke your rock-star status.”

Jett lifts his middle finger into the air but keeps his head buried in the pillows.

“Uh-oh,” Kai says. “McCoy has that look on her face that says she isn’t satisfied yet.”

Henry groans and slumps where he sits at the soundboard. “Seriously? We’re going on, what? Ten? Eleven? Forty hours now?”

“I know, but our time with Dylan is limited. Surely by now you understand her level of perfectionism.”

Jett lifts an eye up from where his face is buried in his crossed arms. “I’m not liking this already.”

“Definitely revoking your status,” Kai jokes and then smiles when he meets my eyes before looking to Henry. “Hang in there. I know it’s a long day, but stay focused because this is when songs typically are made into hits.”

“If you two little old ladies are done complaining, I’d like to get started.” I lift my eyebrows as if impatient.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kai says and offers up a salute. “Where do you want to start?”

“I’m not completely sold on ‘No Matter the Cost’ yet,” I say, referring to the song title. “I need to work it through a couple more times and hear the playback. Something isn’t sitting right with me, and I’ll know it when I hear it.”

“Jett?” Kai prompts.

“Let Dylan run through it. I need a fucking break.”

Kai looks over to me, and I nod, telling him I’m good singing the song myself. There is a short instruction given to Henry about where he needs to cue the music as Jett rolls over on his side and starts scrolling through something on his phone.

“You ready, McCoy?”

“Start from the top.”

I put the headphones back on and enjoy the absolute quiet before the music floats through them. I imagine the hard edge of a guitar and the strident beat of the drum that will accompany the current piano background paired with my acoustic guitar.

I close my eyes and feel the music, my fingers on the strings, the emotion of the past few days flowing through me, and wait for my mark.

And then I begin to sing.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

GRADY

“There’s a Santa Ana moving in.”

Bowie, who’s joined me in the apparatus bay, nods. The warm Santa Ana winds are never welcome in this heat. “I know. You can feel a fire in the air.”

“Lotta dry brush after a long summer without rain.”

“Spells trouble.”

“It spells overtime,” he says with a laugh, and I shake my head even though he’s right. “You’re gonna show up, right?”