Heartbreaker(65)

“’Great’ is a f*cking pop song on top forty radio!” Jennings bellows, slamming his headphones down. “’Great’ is Madison Square Gardens on a Friday night.”

“And?” I ask, confused. “Isn’t that what we want?”

“No,” Jennings growls. “What we do here has to be better than that! This isn’t just a song you’re singing; this has to be a promise, a plea, a f*cking death bed confession. We need to hear you slit your wrists and bleed into that microphone, leave every last piece of your goddam soul out on the floor for everyone to see. You understand me? That’s real greatness, right there, the kind of greatness that lasts a f*cking lifetime, and you, son, are nowhere near close. So tell me again, what the f*ck does any of this even mean to you?”

“Everything!” I throw down my guitar, sick of him questioning my every move. I’ve been beating my head against a wall all week for him, when I should be six hundred miles away.

“Everything?” Jennings echoes.

I pause, Eva’s face flashing in my mind.

“That’s it.” Jennings sees my hesitation. “That’s what’s f*cking with you. You have to give everything to the song, every last breath. And right now, you’re holding back.”

“I’m trying to concentrate!” I explode. “I’ve been blocking it out to focus all week.”

“Whatever it is you’ve been keeping outside these doors, we need it in the studio. All of it.” Jennings insists. “So you better bring it right now, or else this will be nothing but a massive waste of all our time.”

He storms back out to the soundboard, leaving me to slam my hand against the wall in frustration. Fuck. All week, she’s the only thing I can think about, and the guilt and indecision over giving her space is sneaking back in, no matter how hard I try to shut it out.

So maybe Jennings is right. Maybe I need to stop fighting and leave it all on the table, right here in the studio.

“Ready?” The voice comes.

I nod, and pick up my guitar. Every minute I spend away from Eva better damn sure be worth something. I owe her that much, at least.

The music comes, and I start to play.



“Next round’s on you!”

After we finish up at the studio, I head to get beers with Eddie. We set up shop in the corner of a dive place on Division, where the draught is cold and there’s always a group of music row veterans hanging out, trading war stories and news from the scene.

“You should’ve heard this guy,” Eddie is raving. “Even Jennings gave us a break. Just nodded, and said, ‘next’, like he hadn’t just killed it. I’m telling you, that’s a number one right there.”

I shrug, uneasy with the praise. “We’ll see.” I take another gulp of beer. “I’m just glad we got to move on. I thought I’d be running those takes until I hit forty.”

“You got off easy,” one of the other guys laughs, a grizzled old bass player named Jordy. “He had that guy, what’s his name, Dex, in there for three days on a single song. Thought the two of them would come to blows.”

“Oh, they did.” Eddie grins. “Out back in the parking lot. Jennings said something about his wife, and Dex knocked him for six.”

“What happened?”

“They scuffled down in the dirt, then picked themselves up and went back to work.”

I get up, restless. “Another round?”

“Sure!”

I head to the bar. Any other time, I’d love soaking up these stories, just kicking back with guys who know what it’s like out there. But I’m restless, and I can’t relax. Not with Eva still out there, weighing if she wants a future with me or not.

I duck out the fire escape into the alleyway and pull out my phone. I don’t need to even dial the number I know by heart. It’s the only one I use anymore.

One ring. Two. I wonder if tonight will finally be the night she answers my call.

C’mon, Eva. Don’t shut me out.

Pick up. Pick up.

Hi, this is Eva, I can’t get to the phone right now.

I swallow back my curse as the beep kicks in.

“Hey baby,” I sigh, leaning back against the wall. “How’s it going? I miss you,” I say softly. “But you knew that already.” I pause, still hoping she’ll pick up, but there’s nothing but silence on the line. “So, today we had a break-though, I think,” I continue. “You know how Jennings has been riding me all week? Well, he finally gave me a break.”

I fill her in on everything that happened, same as every night when I call. I like to think of her listening, out there on her balcony maybe, or the back porch, her feet kicked up on the railings, wearing that silky robe that always drives me crazy.

How much longer will she take to see what’s staring me right in the face? We belong together; we have done from the start. But she’s so paralyzed by the mistakes she’d made, she won’t move on and take a chance on a new beginning.

What if she doesn’t love me enough to move on?

The doubts rise, full of darkness, but I push them back. No, it’s not true. When she’s in my arms, and our bodies are moving together, everything makes sense. But the minute the real world starts turning again, I can see all her questions and insecurities flare in those beautiful eyes. I know I broke her heart, but damnit, I’m trying to fix the mistakes I made. I want to wipe the past away and make her feel safe again, but I don’t know what else to do. I’ve told her I love her, promised to build a future, and still she won’t move on.