Best Of Everything by R.E. Blake, Russell Blake Read Free Book Online

of the world on my shoulders, I realize that whatever I’m grappling with, Derek must be experiencing times ten. I snag a can of diet soda out of the fridge and walk back to the sofa, deep in thought, and don’t budge until the alarm on my phone beeps to warn me that I have to be at rehearsal in half an hour.
     

Chapter 5
    When I arrive at the studio, the band’s already there, and so is Terry, sitting in a corner with her messenger bag, reading through a sheaf of documents and making notes with a felt-tip pen. I say hi to everyone and put my purse down on a stool. My wrist is still iffy, so I’m not going to be playing guitar on tour, which takes some of the load off me – standing in front of a mic is way easier for me than having to play a song and sing at the same time.
    “How’s our girl?” Terry asks when she looks up. “Did you accomplish everything you hoped to?”
    If she’s read the news about Derek, she could easily compete in the world poker championships, because her expression doesn’t offer even the smallest clue that she has. I give her a small smile. “Yeah. It was great.”
    She nods. “Good. I’ve got a lot to discuss with you after rehearsal. Maybe over dinner?”
    “Sure.”
    “Perfect. Go ahead and do your thing. I just wanted to pop in and see how everything’s sounding. We’re closing in on D-Day, and I’m already lining up local warm-up gigs.”
    I move to the mic stand and the guys tune up. Jay, the guitar player, gives me a sheepish grin and I grin back – he’s hella cool and really easygoing. If I wasn’t head over heels for Derek, he’d be the type I could see myself with. Nothing ruffles him, and he’s wildly talented but not at all arrogant. We’ve got good chemistry and that will have audiences rooting for us – a big part of the live thing.
    Thankfully, my band’s all pro, and they’ve been to this rodeo before and know what’s expected. Everyone gets along with each other, and you can tell they’re having fun, even if it’s just a paying gig supporting me and not playing in a band they formed on their own.
    We start with the standards. The first couple of songs are a little rough on my part – not the singing, but meshing with the harmonies. We try them again and they’re better, and by the time we finish up two hours later, we’ve run our forty-minute set twice and gone over the trouble songs several more times.
    We’re kidding around together as they put their instruments away, and the camaraderie is genuine. It feels like we’re soldiers going into battle soon, which is kind of how it is. Us against the world, wholly dependent upon each other, only as good as the weakest member’s worst faults.
    Terry leads me out of the studio like a mother hen, and we get into her Lexus and pull onto Sunset Boulevard.
    “What do you want to eat?” she asks.
    “Anything. I’m easy.”
    “You want fancy or family style? I’m buying, so this is your big chance.”
    “Low key works for me.”
    “Good. I hate snooty places.”
    We stop at Norm’s, an old-school diner. Everything smells reassuringly like grease and waffles and coffee, breakfast any hour of the day or night, and I immediately feel at home. I order pancakes and OJ. Terry gets a salad with chicken, dressing on the side, which is odd considering her ample frame. The waitress is tired and resigned to working her shift forever, with the practiced efficiency of the incarcerated. Our drinks arrive in seconds, and Terry sits back in the cushioned booth and stares across the table.
    “Sounded okay. Not great,” she says, passing judgment with the finality of a hanging judge.
    “We’ll get better in the next couple of weeks. Taking off four days was good for me, though. I feel like I’m recharged, you know?” I assure her, and it’s true. My voice has never been stronger.
    “Good. You’re going to need stamina. We’ve got more photo shoots, interviews, and a slew of appearances ahead of the