“No, it's true. I was the one always studying. Always practicing. Always putting in the extra time and effort.” Mercy saw a strange look cross his face, and she thought she heard a small touch of bitterness in his voice. “All just to try and keep up with the golden boy.”
Mercy was silent for a moment, not sure if she should question him further. But her curiosity wouldn't allow her to be still. “The golden boy?”
Otis nodded his head sadly. Then he smiled at her, apparently shrugging off whatever lingering bitterness she had heard. “All our lives … everything came easily to Noah. Grades, sports … you name it. Me, on the other hand, not so much. And I'm naturally competitive anyway, so that was never a good combination. It was the recipe for a long and lasting love/hate relationship.”
“I thought you and Noah were fairly close,” Mercy said.
“Oh, we are,” he answered. “Now. But back then?” He shook his head silently. Then he seemed to fall deep into thought for several minutes, and Mercy thought the conversation was over. But he surprised her by admitting, “It was mostly my fault. I just always felt like my little brother was breathing down my neck, you know? I mean, I'm just one year older. And I get that, as the little brother, he always wanted to do the things that I was doing. I do understand that. I know how kids operate. And that was cool, to a point. I liked being the big brother! But as we got a little older, it became a problem, 'cause no matter what we tried, Noah was always better at it than me. Be it basketball, or karate, or our schoolwork. He was even better with girls.”
“Better with girls? Now I know you're making this up,” Mercy smiled, and he laughed at her.
“Nope. Unfortunately it's the honest truth,” he replied. “But Noah and our dad … they always butted heads over everything. Mom says it's because they're just alike. I don't know about that but, because of the friction between them, Noah never wanted to play the guitar, even though he was a natural at it. I think he walked away from it just to piss Dad off. But whatever the reason, I finally had something all to myself. Something that Noah claimed he didn't want, and I was ecstatic about it. But when I started the band and we suddenly needed a lead guitarist … I fought it like hell. But Noah walks in and starts turning it on. All I could do was accept it, you know? He is, hands down, the greatest rock guitarist I've ever seen in my life. And it was evident, even back then. So, all competition just went out the window because the band was more important.”
“And the changing of roles?” Mercy asked quietly, and Otis smiled at her question.
“Well see, Noah is not only the better guitar player. He's also the better songwriter,” Otis confided, looking her in the eye. “Believe me, the fact that he wrote, and sang, the song that won us our first Grammy is not lost on me. But truth be told … he also has the bigger drive. The greater passion for the music. And that's not to say that I'm not committed to Jagged Ivory, because I am. It is my life and I love what I do. But we each had our reasons for wanting this band so badly. I wanted a certain lifestyle. My brother wanted what all true artists want. Immortality. So yeah, our roles have changed a little bit.”
“You're living the life while he gets to leave his mark on the world through the music,” Mercy said, looking him in the eye.
Otis nodded. “Exactly. A common cause that facilitates both our goals.”
Mercy didn't know what to make of it. She appreciated his candor, even if she was surprised by it. And she wondered if Mike had any clue about the Ivory brothers' family dynamic. In Mercy's mind, Otis' tale certainly went a long way toward explaining that 'easily bruised, inflated ego' that her dad mentioned.
They stopped and had lunch at a small cafe after leaving the Charlottenburg Palace, and almost set off a riot when a bunch of fans bombarded the little restaurant, wanting autographs and pictures. The incident gave the band's security a real workout trying to get each of the guys, plus Mike and Mercy back onto the bus safely. And when they finally made their way back to the hotel, they all scattered in different directions as Cory went off to FaceTime with his girlfriend, and Otis left with Benji and Buz, and a small battalion of security to go check out a local pub. Mercy suddenly found herself alone with a little free time on her hands. So she used it to pull out her laptop and check in with the world.
First, she sent an email to Barb and Amber telling them all about her adventures so far, and she included a picture of herself clowning around with the band. Then she looked in on her blog and wrote a small post on her travels, posting several of the pictures she had taken on their various sightseeing trips, being careful not to include any that had a Jagged Ivory member in it. Not that she was worried about copyright or anything – Mike had long ago walked her through how to copyright her images and video footage. But she just felt like that was something she shouldn't do without getting their permission first. It was just common courtesy as far as she was concerned. After that, she downloaded a trashy romance novel to her Kindle Fire, but she doubted she would get to it while on this trip.
Putting her laptop away, she grabbed her camera and went in search of subjects. She wandered around the posh hotel they were staying in and politely asked various staff if she could take their pictures. Most were very accommodating to her request, and she ended up capturing some very lovely black and white shots of the staff and the hotel itself.
When she made her way back up to their security-guarded floor, she was completely lost in thought as she stepped off the elevator, thinking about the pictures she just took and how great they were going to look on her blog page. She was looking down at her camera when she suddenly heard Noah's voice, and looked up. She was standing right next to his open door. It was a custom Mercy noticed all the guys took part in. Since they typically reserved the entire floor of whatever hotel they were staying in – with security personnel guarding each of the elevators and stairwell entrances – the guys would prop their doors open during the daytime so that they could freely venture in and out of each other's rooms at will. If you encountered a closed door you knew that person didn't want to be disturbed for whatever reason.
Mercy felt a little odd standing there, knowing that he probably wouldn't want to talk to her. But he did leave his door open, knowing that all the guys except Cory were still gone. Maybe he wouldn't mind if she stepped in for a minute? She took a step toward his door and peeked inside. He was standing with his back to her, cellphone in hand, and he was talking to someone.
“Hey, man, do know if the gear's here already? … Yeah? Think you could bring my '87 Les Paul Standard to the hotel? … Well, yeah. The sooner the better. … No, I've just got this melody that won't leave me alone. I need to play around with it, see where it wants to take me. … Yes, please. … Nah, just something good enough to practice on. An MG30 should be fine if we've got one with us. … Alright, cool. See you soon, man.”
Noah turned suddenly as he ended his call, and looked up into those gorgeous brown eyes. He felt slightly winded as his breath caught in his throat. He was surprised to see her standing there, and her presence instantly unnerved him. Why was she here?
“Hi,” Mercy said softly, a small smile on her lips.
“Hi,” he replied quietly, still looking into her eyes. She held his gaze for several seconds before looking away.
“Your door was open so…,” her voice trailed off nervously as she tried to explain herself.
“Yeah! No, you're … you're welcome to come on in,” he said, motioning her inside. He ran his hand nervously over the back of his neck as he watched her venture further into his room and take a seat on the small couch. He could feel the erratic beating of his heart, and he hoped that she wasn't able to hear it.
Mercy felt a small rush being alone with him, and her mind worked frantically trying to find something to talk about. She wanted desperately to draw him out of the shell he always seemed to retreat to whenever she was around. “Um … I didn't mean to listen to your conversation.”
“Oh, that was nothing,” he
shrugged, looking down at her from his standing position. “Just my guitar tech.”
Mercy smiled at him, remembering her earlier conversation with Otis and his assertion that Noah was the better songwriter. “What's it like? Writing a song?”
Noah looked at her strangely for a moment, slightly taken aback by her question. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and he could feel the lingering awkwardness ebb as he thought about her question. The prospect of talking about “them” made him anxious and tongue-tied. But music? He could talk about that all day long.
“It's ah … it's like … stepping into a current and letting it pull you along,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders as he moved toward the couch and sat on the opposite end, facing her.
“Stepping into a current?” she questioned, frowning slightly at him.
Noah nodded. “Yeah. The cosmic, rhythmic flow of things,” he explained, looking into her eyes. And the look of amused bewilderment on her face told him she didn't understand. He smiled at her and tried again. “It's like … everything in life has its own rhythm. Its own melody. Music is all around you, all the time. No matter where you are, you can close your eyes and just listen. Really listen! Even in the stillest room or the quietest meadow. Just close your eyes, and you will hear sounds you never paid any attention to before. It's like there's a natural hum to everything in nature. Everything in the universe. And when I center in on that and just listen, and connect to it…,” he said earnestly, closing his eyes while Mercy hung on his every word. He opened his eyes after a beat and smiled at her once more as he finished, “I can just step right into the flow and allow the musical current to pull me along. Wherever it wants to take me.”
Mercy watched him with wide, fascinated eyes, and she marveled at how animated he became when he talked about music. He seemed lit up from within, his passion right there at the surface, and he was suddenly that same brash, cocky, self-assured young man she remembered. Mercy couldn't help thinking, 'Finally. There you are!'
“But, it's crazy, and unpredictable,” he continued, almost excitedly. “Because I can't always control when or how it happens. And a lot of times, it's like I can't turn it off, and it happens even when I'm sleeping.”
“When you're sleeping?”
“Yeah! I told you, it's crazy,” he smiled. “I can be sound asleep, and wake up with a start, and have a melody or a riff … or even a line of lyrics, just running around in my head over and over. And it won't leave me alone, and I can't get back to sleep, so the only thing to do is get up and work with it. If it's lyrics, I have to grab some paper and write it down immediately before I lose it. If it's a riff or a melody, I have to grab my guitar. At home, I keep my old Epiphone Les Paul next to my bed, just for that reason!”
“Epiphone?” Mercy frowned. “I'm guessing that's a guitar?”
“Yeah,” Noah smiled. “My old friend. That was the first guitar I ever bought for myself, right after I moved out of my parents' house.”
“And you still have it?”
“Heck yeah. I love that cheap little guitar! It started the dream.”
She smiled broadly at him, and he looked away with a nervous smile.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “It's difficult to explain. I've been asked that question so many times. How do you make music? What's it like to write a song? My answer never changes, but no one seems to get me. Unless they're musicians too.”
“No, I get it,” Mercy responded, and he looked at her questioningly.
“You do?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “At least, I think I do. I mean, I could never do what you do,” she laughed. “But I think your explanation of the creative process is great.”
Noah smiled at her. It felt good to be here with her, talking to her instead of being tied up in knots whenever she was near. He wanted it to continue. And as he fished for something else to say, something more to talk about, he found himself hoping that the guys didn't return for a while.
“So, what have you been doing? Out taking pictures?” he asked, pointing to her camera.
“Yeah, well the hotel is so beautiful. I just wandered around downstairs and took some really great black and white shots of the place,” she answered. “You want to see them?”
“Sure, I'd love to!” He moved closer to her on the couch as she made a similar movement his way, and when their shoulders collided they both felt the electric current run through their bodies. They looked up, slightly startled, into each other's eyes, and Noah let his gaze wander briefly to her mouth.
The only thought on Mercy's mind at the contact was “Wow!” But she forced herself to focus on the task, lowering her gaze and turning back to her camera. She began scrolling slowly through the pictures she had taken a short while ago, explaining them as they went along and telling him how she planned to post them on her blog. And she was aware of Noah looking at her as she focused on the camera in her hands. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and it gave her skin the most delicious tingle. Like icy pin-pricks across her heated flesh. The sensation was very distracting.
Noah finally turned his attention to Mercy's camera and tried to will himself to concentrate on what she was saying. But it wasn't easy with their proximity and the smell of her skin. She showed him all the black and white pics, and the sightseeing shots she had taken that day. And when she moved on and began showing him all the other pictures she had been taking, Noah was grateful for the extra time spent this close to her. He looked up a few times, stealing a few glances of her beautiful profile and her lovely skin. But mostly he did his best to focus, savoring the feel of her body next to his.
When she got to the pictures of Jagged Ivory, Noah began to look with real interest. The images were fantastic, crystal clear and artsy. The ones taken during soundchecks were every bit as amazing as the ones taken of the actual concerts. They almost looked professional.
“These are awesome, Mercy,” he told her, still studying the camera, and she grinned.
“Really”
“Yes, really. Are you going to put these on your blog too?”
“Oh. Well, I don't know,” she began. “I was going to ask you guys about that. I didn't know if you would mind or not.”
“No, I think it would be great. What do you blog about anyway? Maybe I should've asked that first,” he smiled, and Mercy giggled at him. Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder this way, their faces were mere inches apart, and she suddenly felt very nervous.
“I just blog about me. What I'm doing, sort of like an online journal.”
“Yeah? So I could read it and learn all about Mercy Holland?” he smiled, and Mercy blushed.
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Well, you'll have to tell me where I can find it so I can do my homework.”
Mercy blushed even more at his words. Was he for real? “Why would you want to learn about me?”
Noah looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Well, how do you expect to attract any readers with that attitude?” he smiled, and Mercy giggled at him. Her laughter was contagious. Noah soon doubled over, laughing so hard his sides were aching, and it felt good. When their laughter calmed, he looked into her eyes. “Seriously … I'd like to read it sometime,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” she said shyly.
Turning back to her camera, Noah said, “I think you should post these on your blog, and you should write about it. Sort of like a journal of this leg of the tour.”
“Really?” Mercy asked, looking at him with an excited expression.
“Yeah. Don't you think that would be cool?”
“Yes! I think it would be amazing. I mean, if you're serious.”
“Oh, I'm dead serious,” Noah answered. “I think the fans would love it. Be something fun.”
“Oh, my gosh! I'm so excited about this,” Mercy exclaimed, and he smiled broadly at her. “You don't think the guys will mind?”
“Mind what?”
They both looked up to find Cory standing in the open d
oorway, and the amused look on his face told Noah instantly that he couldn't wait to hear all about this encounter. Noah tried to ignore his friend's probing glances, but he made no attempt to move from their shoulder-to-shoulder position and make room for him on the small couch. And he noted, with delighted interest, that Mercy didn't either.
“I just gave Mercy permission to use the photos she's taken of us on the new online tour journal she's gonna start,” Noah explained.
“Tour journal?” Cory asked, sitting down in a chair across from the couch.
Noah nodded his head silently while Mercy spoke up. “Yeah, it'll be part of my blog. I'll post the pictures and write short posts on what the band's doing and how the shows are going. What it's like to travel around with you guys.”
Cory was quiet as he thought about the idea. “Do you have a lot of blog followers?”
“I've got close to a thousand,” she replied, and Cory nodded, slightly impressed.
“Do you have any objections?” Noah asked him.
“About the pictures? No. No objections,” Cory answered. “I think it sounds like a fun idea. I'd read it. I mean … if I wasn't living it,” he smiled, and they laughed at him.
“What's so funny?” Otis asked, stepping into the room with Buzzy. They all looked up when they heard his voice, and Cory watched as Noah's expression and demeanor changed as quickly as if someone had flipped a light switch. His smile vanished into thin air, as did the easy, relaxed rapport between him and Mercy. Noah shifted on the couch, finally moving away from her as the shutters came slamming down.
“Look at you two, getting along,” Otis continued, eyeing Noah and Mercy suspiciously.
Noah shot him a look, rolling his eyes as he answered, “We were just looking at pictures.”
Mercy looked at Noah curiously, wondering about his quick turnaround. She felt the atmosphere in the room grow tense, and she could easily sense that their time together was over and he had retreated back into that shell of his. He wouldn't even look at her. She frowned as she finally began to work out that it wasn't her that made Noah tense. It was Otis. Perhaps their childhood rivalry wasn't all in the past after all?
The Essential Jagged Ivory (Jagged Ivory Boxed Set) Page 11
