Dissonance (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

W
hat was he doing? This whole thing had already gone too far and on too long. He was supposed to be on a plane back home by now, or at least at the airport waiting to board one. Instead, Chase stood in Kenzie’s downtown brownstone, complete with exposed brick and ventilation ducts, checking out the space. It was decorated simply, but stylishly, and Chase wondered what she could do with his own place. His cousin’s wife was always telling him it needed a woman’s touch, and saying Chase needed to let go of the “Distressed fratboy” style, whatever the hell that meant.

“I work up here,” Kenzie said, leading him up the stairs to a loft area which housed a bed and assorted musical instruments.

One in particular caught Chase’s eye. “You play the ukelele?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Is that weird?”

“No. I think it’s cool.” It was hard not to be impressed, and he picked it up and strummed a few chords. “I love the uke. I’ve been trying to find a way to incorporate it into a song, but my band mates think I’m crazy.”

Kenzie cocked her head to the side. “Maybe you need to find new band mates.”

Or at least a new temporary project
? “Nah. They’re great guys and good friends. I just sometimes like to push the creative envelope a little more than they do.” Chase set the ukelele down. “Anyway, you were going to play some of your music for me?”

“You make it sound like an audition,” Kenzie said with a laugh.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to. I do need to hear you, though, to decide if this is all going to work out.”

“I know. I’m just kidding.” Kenzie set her iPod into a sound dock speaker system. “This was my biggest hit. It’s called
Honky Tonk Night
. It won an ACM award for record of the year.”

The way she said it didn’t sound like boasting. No, it was almost like she wasn’t that impressed herself with the accomplishment, which didn’t make sense to Chase. Even with all of A New Horizon’s success, he’d never won a major music award, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t care if he did. He moved closer to the speaker as the song began to play.

Kenzie could sing, that was for sure. She hit all the right notes, and she sounded upbeat and perky. If Chase had to pick a word to describe her voice, as she sang about line dancing and two-stepping and hot cowboys in Wrangler jeans, though, it would be “honeyed.” It sounded pleasant enough, and he could see how it became a country hit that people loved to dance to, but the song lacked a certain sincerity. Where was the feeling? Where was the heart? The soul? Sure, a good dance beat and catchy melody were nice, but Chase wanted to
feel
something, too. And listening to this song, he didn’t.

“You hate it,” Kenzie surmised, and he wondered how much his expression gave away. He’d never been accused of having a poker face.

“I don’t
hate
it,” he corrected. “I don’t love it, but I don’t hate it, either.” Chase frowned. “Did you write it yourself?”

“No. The song was selected for me because my manager thought it would be a hit. And it was. It was a huge hit.”

Great. Now he’d put her on the defensive, which wasn’t the intent. “I don’t doubt it. It’s a fun song to listen to, and probably dance to. It’s just not my thing,” Chase said with a shrug. “Do you have something else? Something you wrote, preferably?”

After a second, Kenzie nodded. “Sure. I’ll play my newest single for you. I wrote this one.”

“Great.” Chase leaned back against the wall to listen, and right away he could tell this was a completely different song.

You built me up, then tore me down.

You tore me down, but you couldn’t break me.

Now I’m breaking free and I’m takin’ it back.

I’m taking my life back.

You don’t own my heart and you don’t own me.

I’m takin’ it back.

The lyrics were raw, emotional, the kind of thing Chase might have written himself. Everything about the first song was commercialized, and exactly what Chase didn’t like about music. And everything about the second one was... real. The words were heartfelt, and Kenzie didn’t hit a wrong note as she sang them. Maybe it was because his own reputation was for being brooding and melancholy, but Chase connected with the song.

He also couldn’t help but wonder what Kenzie might have been going through when she wrote it. Was it autobiographical? Not all songs were, so he didn’t want to make an assumption, but Chase was curious, nonetheless. He’d tread softly with that issue, though.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“You mean you like it?”

“I love it. It’s so raw, so real.” He studied her. “What was the motivation behind it?”

“Just something I was dealing with at the time.” Kenzie shrugged. “Nothing important. I’m just glad someone likes the song.”

Chase frowned. “Does that surprise you?”

“A little, yeah.” Kenzie went over and shut the speaker off. “Not a lot of people do, it seems.”

“It’s not a hit?”

She shook her head. “Not so far, no.”

Chase didn’t quite get it. He loved the song, and connected to it so much more than with the other, but then again, some of the best songs he thought he’d written hadn’t been his biggest hits, either. “Their loss, then. I guess there’s no accounting for some people’s taste. Or lack thereof.”

“I guess.” Kenzie smiled, but it wasn’t what he’d call a happy one, and Chase decided it was time to change the subject.

“Why don’t I play you one of mine, now, and you can tell me what you think.”

***

“That’s a great idea,” Kenzie said. Anything to get off the subject of the song she’d poured her heart and soul into, only to find out that everyone hated it. Well, not everyone. Chase liked it, at least. “What’s your biggest hit?”

“
Highway of Heartbreak
,” Chase said. “Our first single. The one that made our debut album go platinum.”

“I think I’ve heard that one.”

“Probably. It’s almost as overplayed as Nickelback.”

Kenzie arched a brow. “You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.” She didn’t get it. She’d love to have a big hit, even if it was criticized as being overplayed.

“Not bad.” Chase shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for the support. That song put us on the map and made us a lot of money. I’m proud of the success. It’s just not the song that means the most to me.”

“So you didn’t write it yourself?”

“I did write it,” Chase said. “Well, me and my band mate, Jordy, did. Like I said, I don’t have any issues with the song. If it were up to me, though, it wouldn’t have been the first single we released.”

“Which one would have been?” she asked. “Which song is your favorite?”

“It’s called
Blue Skies and Melancholy.
We never even released it as a single, so if people don’t have the album, they haven’t heard it,” Chase said. “But it’s my favorite.”

“So play me that one,” Kenzie urged. She knew she’d never heard it before.

“If you insist.” Chase set his phone into the sound dock and tapped at the screen until he found the song.

Blue skies.

Sun is shining.

All around me, people laughing.

I want to join them, yet I can’t.

I try to laugh, and it comes out choked.

I try to smile, and it’s always forced.

It seems melancholy has a hold on me.

No one ever understands. They ask what’s wrong.

Why can’t they see?

Melancholy has a hold on me.

Blue skies all around me, but all I know is gray.

I wish I could see what the rest of the world sees,

But I can’t break free.

No, melancholy has a hold on me.

The cords and chorus repeated themselves a little too much for Kenzie’s taste, but she found it typical of that genre of music, and even if it was a little on the repetitive side, it was hard not to be emotionally impacted by the lyrics.

“That’s very powerful,” she said. “And it seems heartfelt.”

“I’m glad that comes through.” Chase jammed his hands in his pockets and cast his eyes to the floor. “I wrote it about a kid I went to high school with who struggled with depression. I hardly knew the guy. He was a jock, a big man on campus, and I was a skinny, geeky kid who played in the orchestra. This guy, he had everything, or so we thought... until he shot himself in the head during junior year with his dad’s police-issued firearm.”

“I... wow. I’m sorry.” Kenzie didn’t know what else to say.

“Like I said, I barely knew him. We didn’t travel in the same circles. When I learned he’d killed himself, I found myself thinking ‘why’? What a waste. He had so much promise.” Chase’s voice was soft. “And also, apparently, a lot of pain.” He looked up with damp eyes. “Anyway, I wrote that song with him in mind, trying to put my myself in the head of someone who, at least on the outside, was happy and had everything, but on the inside struggled with a darkness few people knew about.”

“Does his family know about it?”

Chase shook his head. “No, and there’s no reason they should. We weren’t friends, and it was a long time ago. It’s just something that happened that inspired me to write a song. Music is personal to me.”

“It is to me, too,” Kenzie said softly. “I want my music to speak from the heart.”

“Good.” Chase nodded. “That’s what I needed to know,” he said. “So what do you think? Do you want to do this duet?”

Kenzie didn’t hesitate, but she tried not to sound desperate at the same time. “Yes, I do. But only if it’s something you really want.” She didn’t want him to feel pressured.

“I expected to say no. I came here intending to say no,” Chase told her. “And I’m still skeptical it can all work. But after meeting you, and hearing your sound, I’m intrigued. I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“That’s a yes.” Chase smiled. “Let’s record a duet, and make it a number one hit.”

He said yes. He actually wanted to do it. Chase probably didn’t realize it, but he might have just salvaged her career. Without thinking, Kenzie threw her arms around him. “Thank you!”

“Um, you’re welcome?” He stood there, stiff, for a moment, before his arms went around her, too. Strong arms, and he smelled woody and outdoorsy and completely, totally male.

Down girl! You don’t date, remember? This is a working relationship, only.
“Sorry about that. I get a little excited sometimes.” Kenzie separated herself from him, albeit reluctantly. She figured she’d better, before she really embarrassed herself, seeing as how she hadn’t sex in... well, a very long time. Too long. And Kenzie missed sex. She liked sex. It was everything else about relationships she hated.

“No worries.” With his arms now free, Chase jammed his hands back in his pockets, which seemed to be his usual stance. “Glad you’re looking forward to it,” he said. “So, um, since it appears I’ll be in Nashville for a little while, I better go buy some things, maybe find a place to stay. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Great. Now he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Nicely done, Kenzie. “Sure, okay. Are you going to call Carey?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Maybe have him set up a meeting with Keith for tomorrow.”

“Perfect. Okay.” Just like that, they were right back to business. The way things should be. Except, damn it, his arms felt good around her.

“Great. See you then,” Chase said. “I’ll show myself out.”

***

Chase knew he was being rude in leaving abruptly. It wasn’t the kind of thing he normally did, but he had to get out of there, get away from her, before he kissed her. Christ, he wanted to kiss her so bad, but then a calmer head prevailed. They were going to work together, record this song, make it a big hit. That was it. It was business. Kenzie had made that perfectly clear when she’d announced her prohibition on dating. And what was up with that, anyway?