Love Will (68 page)

Still, after hours of messing with it, we were all about to tell Sabine and George that we were going to have to scrap the track. Frustrated, Damon and I ended up outside of the studio. He had a glass of whiskey, and I was on my seventh soda of the day. We sat against the brick wall, neither of us saying a word to the other. There was something about the sound outside that spoke to me.

I ended up recording ten minutes of ambient “silence” on my phone while we unwound from the stressful day. Damon realized what I was doing about two minutes into it. He smirked as he did some meditation exercises, but was ready to follow me into the studio as soon as I stood up.

Trina helps us mix the sound to the right level, laying it under the track. That was all it took. When I hear the final take, tears come to my eyes. They aren’t from the content of the song, though. I had cried the last tear for my father. They aren’t from how perfect it turned out, either.

The week had been difficult. It was the most work we’d ever put into any of our music. Everything had to be perfect. We’d done hundreds of takes. Tensions were high every fucking day. At least two of us were pissed at each other every night… but we’d start fresh every morning, friends like we’d always been.

This is
it
for me. My last contribution to Damon Littlefield and His Band for quite some time.

“Mother fucker,” I mumble, wiping my eyes.

“Don’t you dare start this now, you pussy.”

“You’re the best friend I ever had, man.”

His eyes start to water. He looks over at Trina, who he’d been trying to impress all day with no luck. “You’re not dying, Will. You’re going back to school. And then you’re coming back on tour with me… somehow. I don’t know how. We can build a big traveling telescope on top of the bus or something, but this isn’t the last of us.”

“That’d be amazing.”

“I’d do it for you.”

“I know you would. You’ve done so much for me. My life could have been shit when I moved back to New York… it could have gone so many other ways. I’m just grateful that we met.”

“Tell me about it. I wouldn’t be where I am without you, either. Don’t think I don’t know that. This is your music I sing.”

“It’s
our
music.”

“Yeah, it is. It always has been.”

“I’ll keep writing it. Better songs. I promise. I’ll make up for not being there. I know I owe you that,” I tell him.

“You don’t owe me a god damned thing, Will. You owe it to yourself to go live out your other dream, too. You’ve got too much talent to waste, and I don’t want to be the one depriving the world of what you know. I don’t wanna be that guy. That guy sucks,” he says, laughing. “I support you one-hundred percent. I always have because you’re the only other guy I know who does exactly what he sets out to do. That’s why we’re such good friends.”

I nod my head. “Two fucking dreamers.”

“Two fucking
doers
.”

“Yeah. So, Trina… are you single?” I question her.

“Who’s asking?”

“Damon. But for some reason, you seem to be immune to his pick up lines–which have been unusually
lame
today. He’s a really good guy… it’s his last night in LA. Let him take you out. No strings attached.”

“Anywhere you want to go,” he tacks on. “I just need to go clean up.”

“
You
want take
me
out?” she asks him, pointing to herself for extra clarity. He nods his head. “I have to go get ready.” I don’t think she’s blinked since I started talking to her.

“We’ll go somewhere nice so I can thank you for everything you’ve done here today.”

“Oh, this is a work thing? I mean… just… I–”

“I’d rather take you out on a date,” Damon says. “But whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

And
now
the blinking begins… in double-time. “Date. Yes, please. Should we meet back here?”

“I can pick you up at your place,” he offers.

In the limo back to our hotel, Damon thanks me for the assist. “She was a tough one to break,” he says.

“No, you were off your game. She’s smart, Damon. Maybe
my
kind of smart. I’m not sure you’re ready for this,” I tease.

“If I’ve been able to keep up with you all these years, I can handle her. I didn’t see ‘doctor’ in front of her name.”

“Yet. You know, someday, I’m
positive
you’re going to meet someone who inspires you to write some songs of your own. I want you to do me a favor and just start thinking about it.”

“I think about it.” He shrugs.

“Start writing down your feelings. Or, just, like a line every now and then. And if you think of even one sentence you think would sound good in a song, make a note of it. Send it to me. I want to help you out. Maybe we can go back and forth or something. I’ll come up with a meter and we’ll write a verse or two together…”

“I can’t write music.”

“I’ll handle the music, don’t worry. And don’t stress about it. Forcing it won’t make it happen. Find your inspiration first, and then it will come. It could be a girl… a place… an experience.”

“You just want more Damon-time…”

“So the fuck what if I do?” I respond.

“You’re not gonna be replaced. Not by Bradley in the band. Not by Tavo as a friend. You’re my number one, Will. My go-to. I don’t give a shit how far away you gotta go to see your fucking stars–which, by the way, I’m pretty sure it’s the same distance from New York as it is from Abu Dhabi, but I’m choosing to ignore that fact–you’re still gonna be the first one I call with news, good or bad. And I still expect you at all of my birthday celebrations. I don’t care what you have to do to get there.”

“I’ll be there,” I promise, already familiar with my schedule and knowing I’ll be in the States. I may get to take a detour to Europe to meet up with him, but maybe I’ll find a reason to visit the CERN while I’m there and make a work trip out of it. “I haven’t missed a birthday in all the years I’ve known you.”

“All right. What do you have planned for tonight?” he asks. “I think everyone else went out to a club.”

“I’ll touch base with Shea, if she’s awake. Other than that, just pack up everything. I’ve got some work emails to answer.”

“Don’t sit at home and cry for me,” he says as we go into the house.

I laugh at his insinuation. “Out of my system already. Have a good time tonight. Treat her nice, Damon. She was a life-saver today.”

“Planning on it. Her choice, all evening. I wonder where she went to school? She’s really talented.”

“You should ask her,” I suggest. “And you should compliment her. Girls like that, and conversation’s fun on dates. Try it.”

“Maybe I will…”

Chapter 29

I’d asked my family and Shea to give me time to freshen up at Damon’s new, fully-furnished penthouse apartment instead of meeting us at the airport when we got back to Manhattan. It was a way for me to get cleaned up and to pick up the puppy so I could surprise Shea with it as soon as I see her.

The dog only peed on Damon’s floor once while I was getting changed. Fortunately, he was locked in the bathroom with me, and Damon never has to know. I’m glad we’re going to Livvy’s parents house, where they have a yard he can play in tonight so I don’t have to worry about him making a mess in their brownstone.

“I’m leaving!” I yell through the huge apartment. “Expect me back often!”

“I better see you often,” he says, meeting me at the door with a hug. “Alex just texted and said all your stuff was delivered to Jon’s loft. Guitars are safe and sound.”

“Thanks. Thanks for everything, Damon. This tour changed my life.” I turn around before I can get emotional.

“Get outta here. We’re playing pool on Friday. Bring Shea, if you want.”

“Sounds good.” I pick up the travel kennel holding Gunner and try to remember which way the elevator was, finally spying it to my left.

“Bring the dog, too!”

“Okay!”

All the way to the Upper West Side, I think about the inconvenience this is sure to be, having a puppy at Jon and Livvy’s with Edie, who’s just starting to walk, and Willow, who’s due in just a few weeks. My brother said it was fine, but there was a hesitant sigh first. I know he said it because he had no other option.

We need to be out of their loft really soon, anyway. This will just speed up the process. We have the money. We have the neighborhoods narrowed down. Shea even found a few buildings that were rumored to have openings any day now.

“Hey, this is Jack Holland’s house, ain’t it?” the cabbie asks me when we arrive.

“It is, yeah.”

“You been here before?”

“Yeah. It’s nice. Nothing really fancy, though.”

“He seems like a really nice guy,” the driver comments as he helps me with my things.

“One of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.” Here you go. I tip him extra, just because I can. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. “Thank you.”

“Have a good evening.”

“Will!” Shea exclaims, running out of the house toward me. I set down the kennel carefully to welcome her in my arms and meet her, kiss for kiss.

“Oh, my God. Who planned this fucking party?” I ask her when I can breathe again. “I can’t go inside like this.”

She smiles, proud of herself, then looks down at the strange container next to me when the puppy starts to whine. “What is that?”

“That… is Gunner.”

“What is Gunner?” She squats down and peeks inside the bars, sticking her finger in and letting the dog lick her finger.

“The dog… it’s a dog. He’s for you. A puppy now, but he’ll be a good guard dog. The breed’s good for that, and we’re going to train him for that. He’s an Airedale Terrier.”

“I love Airedales,” she says, not taking her eyes off him. “Can I hold him?”

“Let me get his leash. He doesn’t have ‘stay’ down quite yet. He’s only four months old.” I hand it to her once I retrieve it from my bag, and she snaps it to his collar after taking him out.

“Gunner’s his name?”

“It was Mini… but I didn’t think it suited him.”

“Well, you didn’t name him Carl,” Shea teases me. “I’m surprised!”

“Do you like him?” I ask her.

“I love him.” She picks him up and touches her nose to his. He licks her twice and wags his tail.

“I think he likes you, too.”

“
Gunner
, huh? Is this one of the ten things you’re buying to protect me?”

I look into her eyes seriously and nod my head slowly. “Maybe, yeah. But, you know… I just want you to feel safe. I won’t be here for a lot of the next two years, so… I’m letting you tell me what you need to do.”

“Thank you.” She giggles. “I don’t think giving him a similar name as a weapon is
quite
the same thing.”

“No, but it’s a good name for a guard dog, right?”

“I love it. A little threatening, but not. You’re good with naming after all! Thank you, Will,” she says, lifting him once more for another nose-nuzzle. I notice something on her wrist.

“What’d you do?” I ask as she pulls her hand down.

“What?”

“Your arm…”

“Oh,” she says as she passes me the dog and lifts her hand, palm up. Fresh, black ink adorns her wrist:

i fell • he caught me

I pass my thumb over it a few times. “It’s beautiful, Shea, but you’ve never even stumbled, much less fallen…”

“I fell for you. I fell in love, and with all the evidence I had, it was the most irrational thing I’ve ever done.”

I sigh and smile at her, then lean in for another kiss. I can’t disagree with her. She took a huge leap of faith with me. “When did you have it done?”

“When I went back to Minneapolis. It’s just my way of reminding myself to trust you. If I ever feel insecure, I just need to remind myself of that.”

“It should say, ‘I fell. He fell harder.’ That should convince you to trust me.”

“I don’t know that that’s necessarily true.”

“I think it is,” I tell her, putting my free arm around her. She hugs both the dog and me.

“But
I
memorialized you permanently with a tattoo,” she brags. “That has to say something…”

“I did it better.” I raise my brows and bite my lip until her eyes narrow in curiosity. “Take Gunner.”

“Come here, little boy,” she says, cuddling him. I lift the sleeve of my shirt and show her the word on my arm.