by KE Payne
I was barely listening. At that moment I didn’t care that someone had said, OMG just seen the blond one from @Be4 getting off the Tube at Blackfriars, or that #Robyn totally rocks the LBD look in pics of her coming out of famous nightclub in Kensington @Be4. Robyn had already told me she’d been papped the night before. She didn’t need to read it out to me again right now.
At last, just as Robyn started to read out the next batch of mentions, Ed and Alex returned. No one asked them where they’d been, or why we’d been kept waiting for Alex to come back, so I didn’t bother either. As long as we started singing—and soon—Alex could have been to Scotland and back for all I cared; she was back now, and that meant we could finally get started.
Things moved quickly then. People huddled around the sound machine, hands were clapped, orders were shouted out. Our prerecorded instrumental music blared out around the room as Nate adjusted volumes, and Ed moved about everyone, gathering them, shifting them into position, until finally we were ready to start singing.
The opening bars of “After the Rain” rang out and my hunch about the acoustics was right. It was going to sound immense, and as I sang my vocals, I hoped that the studio at The Afternoon Show in which we’d be performing it would be as perfect as this. As I waited for my part, Brooke’s vocals sounded sweetly around the room. I swallowed, took a deep breath, then sang my vocals, pleased at the quality thanks to the acoustics. A shiver cascaded down my spine as I heard Robyn’s vocals kick in, harmonizing perfectly with mine, before Alex came in with her vocals too.
That’s when I heard it.
I frowned and shot a look to Robyn, who shrugged and continued to sing her part. Perhaps I’d been mistaken. I sang on, assuming I’d misheard, and stood back from my mic as Brooke sang, then stole a look to Alex as her vocals began again.
I heard it again, and this time there was no mistake. As I watched her sing, my ears picked out a whole different range of notes than I was familiar with: riffs randomly thrown in, lower notes, higher notes. She was all over the place, singing entirely differently to both how the song had been written and how we’d recorded it, and I’d heard enough.
“Wait, wait.” I held up my hands. “What are you doing?” I swung round to face Alex. “Where did that lot come from?”
“I threw it in because I think it sounds better with your harmonies when we sing it live,” Alex said. She flipped her mic from hand to hand. “Don’t you agree?”
“No,” I said, “I don’t.”
Alex didn’t answer. Infuriatingly, she just kept throwing her mic between her hands.
“And the riffs?”
“Sounded better.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
“Even though I didn’t write it like that,” I said when it was clear that was all she was going to say. “As well you know.”
“So I ad-libbed.” Alex’s voice rose.
I threw out my hands. “You can’t just start ad-libbing in a rehearsal when you feel like it,” I said. “You do remember we’re a band, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Alex looked bored. “And?”
“And a band does things together,” I said, jabbing the words out. “If you have one member going off and doing what they feel like in a song, it ruins it for the rest of us.”
“Who says it’ll ruin it?” Alex asked.
“Tally does.” Finally Robyn stepped in. “Sometimes I think you forget you’re not a solo artist any more.”
“Bullshit.” Alex shook her head.
“Or on a talent show,” I muttered.
“What did you say?” Finally the mic swapping stopped.
“You have to remember it’s not all about you, Alex,” I said. “Not any more.”
“It never was,” she replied, turning away.
“So quit trying to be the big I am,” I said, shooting a look towards Ed. “Ed? A little backup here, please?”
Ed glanced towards Alex, back to me, then to Alex again.
“Try it back with the original notes,” he said to her, “then we’ll decide. If your version sounds better, Alex, we’ll roll with that.”
“Sure.” Alex nestled her mic back into its cradle. “We can try it.”
“No, no, no.” I was stunned. This was our song. Mine, Brooke’s, and Robyn’s. Not Ed’s. Not Alex’s. She had no right to dictate anything. “We can do more than try it. We can do it.” I looked at Ed again. “We’re going to have to perform this on live TV soon enough and you think it’s okay for her to start mucking around with it?”
“Who’s her?” To my ears, Alex practically spat the word out.
“You.” I gave as good as I got.
“I was just trying stuff out,” Alex said, shrugging, “not mucking around, as you so nicely put it.”
“Putting in notes that don’t exist.” Finally Robyn spoke up again. “It’s clear Tally doesn’t want you to do it.” She shrugged. “So quit it.”
Alex stared at her.
“You think the same?” she asked Brooke.
“I do.” To my relief, Brooke had my back.
“’K.” Alex turned away, stared at the floor, then looked back in front of her again. “So…from Tally’s vocals?” she asked.
I was done. Even if I’d wanted to, I didn’t think I could sing a note right then. My throat was tight. The room was so stuffy, the walls creeping in on me. Everyone was looking at me, waiting for my cue to go again. I felt trapped and light-headed. Frustrated at Alex. It was my song, my lyrics, my tune, and all Alex seemed determined to do was undermine it all. Undermine me.
“I need a time out.” I crammed my mic back into its cradle and hurried from the room before anyone could stop me. Out on the landing, I looked around for the first door I could see and, seeing one right opposite me, pushed it open a crack and peered in. Seeing it empty, I wandered across the floor and over to the large floor-to-ceiling window, then rattled the handle, relieved to find it was unlocked. I needed some air in my lungs before the heat of the apartment made me pass out. I pulled it open, then stepped out onto the balcony and breathed in the sticky afternoon air. I listened to the sounds of the city below me; somewhere in the distance I heard a train, its wheels screeching against the hot rails; car horns blared at one another on the streets; from somewhere on one of the floors beneath me I could hear the dull thud of music.
I hated her.
I knew I should go back in, be an adult about it. But I couldn’t. The festering anger I felt towards Alex, which had been living inside me for days, and which now, thanks to her little show, threatened to spill out of me, prevented me from turning away from the balcony, plastering a false smile on my face, and returning to the others.
I dragged in lungfuls of warm air and stared up at the cobalt sky, narrowing my eyes against the sun to try to see the plane I could hear flying nearby. I looked up to my right, seeing it just as it came into view, bright sunlight sparkling off its fuselage. The plane was low, so was it taking off or landing? I peered up at it some more, trying to make out the livery on its side, and imagined its passengers on board, then wondered where they were going or where they had come from.
While I still stared up at it, leaning over the balcony slightly to watch it until it disappeared from sight, I heard footsteps behind me and, expecting to see Robyn, felt a lurch of dismay. It was Alex. Without saying anything, she came and stood next to me on the balcony, then leant her arms on it and peered over. I slid a look to her as she gazed down, expecting her to speak, but she didn’t. The silence between us stretched like elastic, only punctuated by the constant traffic sounds around us. Just when I was starting to feel as though I should either speak or leave, Alex spoke.
“I come from Suffolk,” she said, still looking around her, rather than at me. “You know that bit that sticks out on the east coast?”
“I know where Suffolk is,” I said, not looking at her either.
“It’s very flat and mostly countryside,” she said. “N
arrow lanes, villages. Stuff like that.”
“I know what the countryside is too,” I said, more petulantly than I’d intended.
“So when I moved to London,” Alex continued, apparently ignoring my childishness, “it was the biggest shock to my system.” Finally she looked at me. “I hated it at first. Couldn’t get my head around all the change. Wanted everything to be how it used to be.”
“Fascinating.” I was done with the psychology already.
Alex, apparently, wasn’t.
After the longest pause she said, “You know, there’s one constant thing that happens in everyone’s lives, and that’s change.” She looked me straight in the eye. “And change is always going to happen, whether we like it or not, because the only thing you can predict in life,” she said with a smile, “is the unpredictable.”
“I can cope with change.” I turned and looked at her too. “If this is what this little chat is all about.”
“Yeah, really looks like you can cope with it,” Alex said, slowly returning her gaze out to the city, “if that show back there is anything to go by.”
“‘After the Rain’ is my song,” I said, “but you seem determined to disrespect it.” I paused. “And it wasn’t a little show, as you so delicately put it.”
“What would you call it then?” Alex asked. “I’d call it storming out.”
“I needed some time.” Even I knew I sounded stupid.
When Alex didn’t answer, I carried on.
“You can’t just come in and start changing stuff to suit your voice,” I said, “when I know how I want the song to sound.”
“Have you ever thought that a little tweak here and there might make it sound even more awesome than it already does?” Alex suggested.
“It doesn’t need changing.” I tried to catch her eye.
“No, you’re right.”
“So…” I rolled a hand. “Why say it needs to sound better?”
“I didn’t.”
“You just did.”
Alex sighed. “I didn’t come out here to argue,” she said, “just to explain myself.” She stood up straighter. “But if you’re too stubborn to even hear me out…”
“Stubborn?”
“You heard me, didn’t you?” she snapped.
I bit at my lip. That was me told then.
“We both know the song’s perfect,” Alex said, “but I also know how my voice works and how I can adapt it to suit your music better.” She held my gaze. “So, really, what I’m saying is that the tone in my voice needs to change slightly to work in harmony with your music, so it can be even more awesome than it already is.”
“Bullshit.” I laughed and looked away. “You just want to be the star of the show because your last two attempts at success in music failed.” Gazing out into the distance I added, “So don’t tell me you’re doing it as a favour to me.”
“Is that what you think?” Her voice was soft. “Is that what you all think?”
The quiet edge to her voice made me instantly regret what I’d just said.
“No.” I sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that.” I caught her eye again. “And I’m sorry for what I said about your last two attempts failing.”
“Right.” Alex leant her arms on the balcony again and studied her hands.
“I’m very protective of my music,” I said.
“I get that,” Alex said, “I really do.” She frowned. “But I also know what can or can’t work.” She squinted to me through the sun. “Maybe that doesn’t come across so well,” she said, “maybe I don’t come across so well.”
“You can be a bit full on.” I laughed, wanting to add that she irritated the hell out of me most days too.
I heard her draw in a deep breath, then watched as she stepped away.
“I want to try it again,” she said, “my way.”
“Have you listened to anything I’ve just said?” I asked.
“Will you just try it?” she asked. “Just once? Please?”
I don’t know whether it was the way she said please, or the way she looked at me when she said it, but I found myself wavering.
“Please,” she repeated. “I really think it can work.”
I sighed.
Alex leant her head to one side. “And if it doesn’t, you can all call me the biggest jerk in the world.”
Not knowing whether I was doing the right thing or not, I nodded, surprised at the smile that my agreement brought to her lips.
Robyn was going to hate me.
Chapter Six
I could tell by the way Robyn was looking at me when Alex and I eventually returned to the room that she knew I’d caved in. I didn’t care. I was done. I was tired, both mentally and physically, and now all I wanted to do was get the rehearsal over as quickly as possible so I could go home to ring my parents while I still had the chance. Alex had been convincing in her claim that what she was doing would work, so I figured if she wanted to ad-lib her way through the song and show herself up in front of Ed, then I’d just let her get on with it. Let her have to explain herself to everyone why our rehearsal was going on way longer than it needed to.
As I passed Brooke, she gave me an enquiring lift of her head to ask me if everything was okay. I nodded my reply and slotted myself back behind my microphone. I accepted the bottle of water that was passed to me by Robyn and drank some back, liking the feeling of the ice-cold water coating my hot throat as it trickled down.
“We good?” Robyn asked, taking the bottle back from me and screwing the lid back on.
“All good.”
She threw the bottle over to Nate, who caught it one-handed and placed it on the floor next to him. I liked that he smiled at me when he caught my eye, a kind of it’ll-all-be-okay smile. At least, that’s how I read it. The sound guys were great, and even though I could tell they all liked Alex—after all, they had no reason to dislike her—I also knew they were always, without exception, fair and loyal to us. So I returned his smile, hoping he could read in it my frustration at being put in this situation that I neither felt happy nor comfortable with.
I watched Alex as she sauntered across the floor towards me and Robyn and remembered her words to me out on the balcony. She’d been right; I was afraid of change, even though I couldn’t admit that to her. But I also knew she’d been right when she’d said there was nothing anyone could do about it; things changed constantly in people’s lives, and it was up to us to either suck it up or let it overwhelm us.
I didn’t want to be overwhelmed.
Guess it was time to suck it up then.
*
The intro echoed round the room. The sound of our prerecorded guitars and drums coated the walls, signalling Brooke’s cue. As I saw her getting ready to sing, I knew it was time to try it Alex’s way now, rather than later. Before I bottled it. And at least that way, we could get it out of the way and move on.
I held up my hand.
“Problem?” Ed snapped the sound machine off.
“I think perhaps,” I said, not daring to catch Robyn’s eye, “we should try and sing it the way Alex just sang it before, after all.” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Just to see”—I cleared my throat—“how that works with our harmonies.”
I didn’t need to look at Robyn to see her face. But I did feel her arm on mine as she pulled me away from my mic and over to the side of the room.
“You serious?” she asked. “What was all that stuff before about then?”
“We talked,” I said, “out on the balcony.”
“No shit.”
“I said we’d try it her way.”
“And let her win?”
“It’s not about winning, Robyn.” I sighed and slid a look back over to Alex, who was staring at the floor. “It’s about adjusting. Being compliant for the good of the band.”
“But you said earlier…?”
“I know what I said,” I replied, “but…I don’t know. Maybe she’s right.”
; “And if she’s not?”
“Then she’ll make herself look stupid.” I shrugged.
I followed Robyn’s gaze over to Alex. Robyn was biting her nails and I knew she was thinking long and hard about stuff.
“Okay, whatever.” Eventually the chewing stopped and Robyn spoke. Without waiting for any answer from me she walked back to her mic, leaving me still standing by the wall.
I wasn’t sure if that’s the response I wanted from her; I also knew whatever I did, I couldn’t win. If I gave in to Alex, I made Robyn pissed. If I didn’t give in to Alex, I made her pissed. It was no-win for me either way.
I wiped my hands down my jeans, sweaty from the heat in the room, and followed Robyn back to the mics. I caught Alex’s eye as I slid in between her and Brooke and saw the ghost of a smile pass across her lips. I didn’t return it.
“So we’re going from the intro again,” Ed called out from the mixing desk. Nate slid a button on the desk, allowing music to fill the room, and again I waited for Brooke’s vocals before I came in on mine. This time when Alex sang her solo, I listened out for her changes, determined not to let them throw me, and felt pleased at how it sounded when Robyn came in with her vocals, then more pleased when Alex harmonized with her. She belted out her next set of vocals—again, not as I’d written them—and as I came in on my vocals, the softness of my voice in comparison gave the music a different edge to how it had been recorded just a few days before.
My heart hammered in beat with the music as I heard it. This was exactly how I’d imagined it would sound live, in comparison to its recorded version, and it worked. It so worked. As we sang on, I caught Robyn’s eye and could tell by the way she was looking at me that she felt the same way. Our harmonies gelled; the clarity of Alex’s voice, now she was singing her vocals an octave higher than she had at the studio, would sound immense live. She’d known it all along. She’d probably even known it at the recording, that the recorded version needed to sound different to the live one, because the live version needed to have enough power and rawness to get our audience up on their feet and dancing to it.
