Bo & Ember (20 page)

Shaughn smiled. “Both. I was born in Athlone and lived there till I was in high school. My parents divorced and I moved with my mom to Chicago. I went back to Athlone every summer, though, and still go every chance I get. So my accent is usually muted, but, for Celtic Summer, it’s dialed way back to my middle school days.”

“Was that your choice or the labels?” I questioned.

“It was Yardley’s idea. She heard me talking when I was drunk one night and told me to keep talking like that.” Shaughn grinned mischievously, and suddenly I had the urge to drag her to a pub and hear every story that sat behind her dark green eyes.

Several minutes later, Yardley entered the studio, followed by what looked to be her parents, from pictures we’d seen on the Internet. They were the most fascinating pair of socialites I’d ever seen. Their crisp dark clothing was a nod to their Manhattan interests, but Mrs. Ginger Honeywell’s expertly pinned French twist and flawless pearls gave away her southern address.

Studio A at Grounded Sound was special in that it had the standard recording room and control room, but there was another room as a part of the floor plan that housed a viewing/listening area. A soundproof glass window allowed the musicians and the audience to see one another, but kept unnecessary noise out of the recording room. The listening room was equipped with one-way speakers, and looked like it could seat ten to fifteen people comfortably.

For the morning, Bo and I, and Celtic Summer, were to take turns recording, while the other group had the opportunity to sit in the listening room. It was important, Yardley reminded us, to get familiar with each other's styles. Since we’d be on tour together and giving interviews and talking with fans, it was imperative that we could be supportive of one another by talking up one another's strengths, and to be able to discuss similarities and differences in our sounds. Yardley had discussed that at least three groups would be on tour this coming summer, but neither Celtic Summer, nor Bo and I had any idea what her plans were there.

While Celtic Summer worked through their first song, Bo and I watched from the leather chairs of the listening room.

“It’s weird to be
watching
Regan, isn’t it?” I whispered, despite the knowledge of the soundproof glass.

Bo shot me a sardonic grin. “You forget, I’ve seen both of you on stage together before … back when you hated me.”

I gasped and slapped his shoulder. “I have never
hated
you!”

“Use your words,” Bo teased as he took the hand that slapped him and offered a soft kiss.

While Bo and I didn’t hold any resentment over our time apart, it was rarely something we discussed or even joked about. I was glad to see Bo slip into some sarcasm and wit. He was always so serious, and had been especially over the past few weeks.

“They are damn good, though,” Bo continued. “That guitar looks big enough to swallow Shaughn whole, but she
owns
it.”

I nodded in agreement. “And Chris is crazy good. Who knew you could bring a sultry sound into this kind of music?”

“Yardley did,” Bo replied. “She’s good. Real good. I think we’re luckier than we realize to have a contract here.”

“Guess that means you’ve got to be a lot nicer to Beckett, huh?” I teased as I elbowed him.

Bo feigned pain as he held his arm. “God, you’re abusive today.”

For the next hour, we had the pleasure of watching a seemingly perfectly melded Celtic Summer work through several songs. Even when they had to stop to work on something, it was a quick fix and they were back up and running. While it was definitely disappointing to not be playing with Regan anymore, it was good to see that he’d bonded so well with the others in his group.

As their session ended and Bo and I warmed up, I was getting a little nervous about the summer tour, and our little secret that was going to require a
big
change of plans. Still, Bo and I reminded ourselves a thousand times on the drive down to stick to our guns until the album was done. And, Yardley didn’t have a third band lined up for the tour yet, so the dates weren’t set in stone.

Bo and I warmed up with a song we’d written near the end of our tour with The Six. We’d titled it "Crimson Minute." It was a soulful ballad that carried enough energy to keep it from drowning. Regan had heard us rehearsing it, but never had the chance to hear the final product before we moved back to New Hampshire. When we finished the piece, Regan lurched toward the glass that separated us and knocked wildly, flashing the thumbs up and mouthing “hell yes!”

After we played two more songs, Yardley left the control room, where she’d been the whole morning, and entered the recording room. She had a professional, but satisfied smile on her face.

“Y’all make my job
so
easy,” she cooed as Celtic Summer entered the recording room and situated around us.

Bo smiled his friendly boardroom smile. “You’re the one that had the ear for us, Ms. Honeywell.”

“Please.” She blushed and smiled. Blushed. She did. “I insist that you call me Yardley. I know that we all have a professional relationship here, but I need to know you’re comfortable enough in these rooms to call me by my name.”

“Well, Yardley,” I entered, "thank you for this opportunity. The studio here is great. I’m looking forward to recording more.”

Yardley took a quick breath as if she’d just remembered what she’d intended to say all along. “Bo and Ember, you two only have two more songs left to record to complete the album.”

“Nice!” Regan exclaimed as he put his hands on our shoulders.

“What I’d like to do is break early for lunch, and give some listeners an opportunity to watch you record them live this afternoon. We won’t be releasing any of the sound bites or videos until closer to the album release date, which will be mid-April.” Yardley pulled out her phone and scrolled through the calendar.

“Why not until then?” I questioned.

Yardley smiled with drive in her eyes. “We want to keep you relevant, but don’t want to do the push until the album release and close to the tour date so the fans don’t tire of you before they’ve heard your body of work. It’ll go fast, I promise. You can head up to the second floor. There’s a conference room there with lunch waiting for all of you.” She winked and walked briskly from the room, leaving the door open behind her.

“When’s your album out?” I asked Regan as we all packed away our instruments.

He looked up to the ceiling for a moment. “A week or two after yours, I think.”

“How’s it sounding?”

Regan’s broad smile gave it away. “Awesome. We have some instrumental-only songs in there that are to
die
for. We have four more to record before it’s sent to production. We’ll be here until we finish, which should only take a couple of days."

Bo was chatting up Chris and Shaughn as we all made our way upstairs to the conference room. Regan and I continued catching up. I asked about Georgia, and his face lit up. While it was hard to be away, he said, they’d recognized their stints apart wouldn’t end any time soon and they’d better get used to it. Georgia was working on training and hiring a slew of people just for the summer so she would be able to take longer stints away from the bakery and meet up with him on tour.

“I miss her,” I said through a mouthful of vegan spring rolls. “It sucks that we won’t see each other until the summer, but with everything going on at the house and with the album, I don’t see an opportunity to get out there any time soon.”

“Oh, right, the house! Bo told me about some of the stuff you’re doing. It sounds great.” He paused and looked down at his hands for a moment before continuing. “Are you going to do all the bedrooms, too?”

I knew what he was
really
asking. Would
Rae’s
room be remodeled.

I nodded slightly. “We’re taking our time with those, though. Bo had our room done, and we need to do the master bath, then we’ll slowly work our way down the hallway. We’re not actively using the rooms right now, so it’s not as urgent as the rest of the house.”

As I spoke, my voice trailed off. Of course we’d need to use one of the bedrooms as a nursery. Bo and I hadn’t discussed how we wanted to handle that yet, though we’d have to with Tyler eventually.

“You okay?” Regan asked. “You got all weird and quiet for a second there.”

I plastered on my
everything’s fine
smile and waved my hand. “You’re the weird one. Just tired, I think.”

Regan shrugged and chewed his food while he talked with Bo.

During the rest of the meal, I had an opportunity to talk with Chris from Celtic Summer. He was a Minnesota native who looked nothing like the Midwest stereotypes. His upbringing, though, was exactly that. Two parents—who were happily married—a sister, and a dog. He was on the debate team in high school, and in the glee club. Things got saucy when he left for school as a political science major, and came home having dropped out and started his own band.

“How’d your parents take that?” I asked, almost nervously.

Chris moved his head from side to side. “They’ve … taken things better before.”

The whole table broke into laughter.

“Man,” I cut in, “my parents probably would have killed for me to drop out and sing.”

With the little bit of space I’d had from my parents, and being in the company of people with different upbringings, I could appreciate the passion for life my parents held.

Really, all they wanted was for me to be happy, which is why they didn’t throw a fit when I’d insisted on attending college or moving halfway across the country. That they let me grow into my own person said more about them than it would have had they forced me one way or the other.

Yardley came into the room as we were finishing our lunches.

“Okay,” she smiled, “we’ve got ten listeners from a flash giveaway on our website from over the weekend. They’re ready in the listening room now. Bo and Ember, since you played last, do you want to go first, as you’re most warmed up?”

Bo and I shrugged as I answered, “Sure.”

“Great. Regan, Chris, and Shaughn, you three can get your instruments and head down to Studio B, where you can warm up some, or just relax.” Yardley turned on her heels as she got a phone call, and exited the room.

“Well, good luck.” Chris winked and smiled as he shook both my hand and Bo’s.

“Knock ‘em dead,” Regan encouraged as we all made our way for the stairs.

Bo and I were in the lead as we casually descended the steps. My pace, and voice, picked up as I reached the bottom third and saw Willow standing at the reception desk, talking with Brielle.

“Willow! What the hell!” I ran over to her and pulled her into the tightest hug I’d given her since we were in high school.

“What the hell me? What the hell you!” she squealed as she hugged me back.

While we never really settled into sisterly roles while I was on the road over the past year, seeing her in Grounded Sound made me want to make that a priority.

“I’ve missed you.” My eyes watered slightly as I pulled back and studied her.

She’d taken out her braids and trimmed her hair. It sat a few inches below her shoulders and was a soft bed of wild curls.

Willow pointed to her head. “Crazy hair, right? I needed a break from the braids.”

“No, I think it’s fabulous. Total boho-chic.” We laughed harder than people around us may have considered necessary for that remark.

In eight grade, Willow and I were wandering through a shopping center when the manager of a clothing store chased us down and complimented us for our “trendy” boho-chic look. We thanked him, not knowing what the hell he was talking about, since we were both wearing clothes we’d had for years.

We then looked around and realized that girls who looked like they were definitely cheerleaders and the most popular girls at their schools were dressed just like us. To us, it was just how we were. I appreciate that story more now than I did then, because it was the realization of how different I was from the rest of society that spearheaded my desire to move across the country and attend a normal high school.

“Did I miss your session? And, why are you teary? It’s just me.” Willow flicked her eyes up, then back to mine, instructing me to look to the ceiling as she quickly ran her pinky under my eyes. I felt like she knew. She looked at me like she knew, but I wasn’t about to spill it all over the studio.

“You didn’t miss it. We recorded some earlier, but we’re headed back in now. We have an audience. I’m just really happy to see you.” I shrugged and put my arm around her as we walked toward Studio A.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” I continued.

“Well, of course not. I wanted it to be a surprise. I’ve been learning some sound engineer stuff, and Yardley has let me practice a bit with Celtic Summer. They’re patient.” She arched her eyebrow and smiled. It was rare to see Willow admit she was struggling at something. That was certainly a trait we shared.

“Regan didn’t tell me either!” I whipped around and caught a glimpse of his face just as he turned for the stairs to Studio B. He smiled and winked as he disappeared.

“Brat,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Uh, hi?” Bo called from behind. I’d completely forgotten that he was there, as I’d gotten wrapped up in Willow.

We giggled like the little girls we’d always been to each other.

“Sorry, hon.” I cleared my throat.

“Willow,” he nodded with a sparkling smile, “good to see you.” They hugged briefly and I got goosebumps at how different things were from just over a year ago when I would have taken her out for looking at—let alone touching—Bo.

Bo and I entered the studio, and I noticed Beckett was in the control room again, which filled me with ease. Bo seemed relieved to have him back behind the controls as well as he nodded and waved to him through the glass. While each sound engineer technically had the same job, they each have a different ear and a specific relationship with each client. It was important for Grounded Sound that all of their engineers could work collaboratively on projects, maintaining the consistency of sound.