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I pulled up at the 8123 studios the next day at around nine-thirty am. The sun was out and it made the tarmac parking lot feel warm under my sandals. It made me smile that the boys had chosen this space to do up and set up their musical home. It just made sense - I had so many memories of sitting in the bed of one of the guy’s trucks, nursing a beer between my fingers while the others fiddled around with guitars and melodies, the sun setting behind us and setting everything aglow. They would undoubtedly always be some of my favourite times, but now the boys could build more, grow and develop professionally in a space they identified with. If it made me feel all happy and mushy inside, I really couldn’t measure how much it meant to the rest of the band.

I stepped into the building, enjoying the cool blast from the air-con, and pushed my sunglasses to the top of my head. The dim lighting inside took a while to adjust to, so I paused in the doorway until Pat came tripping out from one of the rooms down the way.

“Brandy! Hey!” he called out.

I smiled. “Hey Pat! How you doing? I’m here to record some backing vocals apparently?”

Pat beamed at me and jabbed his thumb backwards behind him. “Oh yeah, sure, Garrett said! We’re all just in there now, follow me!”

He tucked his long hair behind his ear and spun around and I drifted a few steps behind him, not wanting to interrupt any important musical business. I liked to sing, but I wasn’t any good at the real work that went into music. I’d played around with learning the guitar when I was younger, but my small fingers annoyed me when I couldn’t easily make the proper shapes for the chords and I gave up after a while. I left the good stuff to everyone else.

Pat knocked on one of the doors and there was a muffled ‘come in!’ so he pushed me inside. Jared was lounging on the couch, his guitar on his knee, a notebook open next to him. John was tinkering with a pair of microphones set up in the corner, and Kennedy was sat in an armchair, his acoustic propped up against the side. They all looked up when I walked in and smiled, but John turned to grin at me the widest.

“Ahh, here she is – come to keep me company on the mic,” he drawled lazily. “Where’s your boy?”

I raised an eyebrow at him, until another glance round the room revealed the missing presence of Garrett. Ah, of course, ‘my’ boy. I frowned and pulled out my phone from my back pocket, but it lit up with no new messages.

“He’s not here?” I asked confusedly.

There was a deep sigh from Kennedy and Jared put down his guitar to look up at me from the couch.

“You mean he’s not with you?” There was some surprise in Jared’s voice and they were all looking at me expectantly, and I felt an uneasy feeling start to creep in to my stomach.

“No, he’s not with me,” I said. “Why would you think that?” There was silence as they all continued to just look at me, their brows furrowed, and I felt myself getting frustrated.

“Guys, is something wrong? Do you know something?” I pulled out my phone again, but there was nothing; no voicemail, no text, no notification – nothing. I turned to Jared, always the most level-headed of the group, and looked at him with wide eyes. “Jared?”

He shrugged, but kept my eye contact. “Garrett didn’t go home last night – we got a text from Rhiannon asking if he was with us this morning. We had to tell her no.” he said simply. “We figured he was with you.”

I shook my head. I left him on the curb, right outside his house – where could he have gone? Did our conversation really affect him that much?

“No – I mean, he was with me, we watched some tv and then I drove him home. To his house. I swear.”

John let out a low whistle. “Boy’s done a runner.”

“But where could he have gone?”

“He’ll turn up. We’ve got band stuff today, he’s not gonna miss it,” Kennedy answered, his gaze lingering on me. “Bet you he’ll show up.”

“Of course he’s gonna show up,” John scoffed. “He’ll completely fuck with our schedule if he doesn’t.”

“Are you not at all worried that he’s been out all night and we have no idea where he is?” I asked incredulously, my voice kicking up a few decibels.

Pat piped up from the corner. “He probably went to an all-night diner. There’s one in Scottsdale that he likes.”

I pushed a hand through my hair and sat down on the end of the couch. “I’m gonna ring him,” I announced. John rolled his eyes as if it was unnecessary and I shot him a challenging look.

It rung nearly to the end until Garrett picked it up, and I set it on loudspeaker so the boys could hear him too.

“Garrett?”

“Brands?”

I nearly sighed in relief hearing his voice. He sounded tired, his answer sluggish and slightly slurred.

“I’m at the studio. Where the fuck are you? The guys said you didn’t go home last night?” I didn’t mean to come across as angry, but he had me worried.

There was some muffled swearing from the other end of the line. “Sorry Brands, I didn’t mean to panic you. I’m fine, I swear.”

“Well you’re not at 8123, dude. Where have you been?”

There was the sound of an engine starting up in the background. “Out – wanted to go for a drive.”

“At one thirty in the morning? Garrett!”

“Brandy, relax, I was fine!”

I scoffed. “Garrett, Rhiannon texted the guys about you! She didn’t know where you were!”

The phone line fell into static when Garrett didn’t answer immediately. I was started to get frustrated with his persistent vagueness.

“Well?” I snapped. “Have you got anything to say for yourself?”

“No.”

I stared at my receiver, repelled by his blunt, moody sounding answer. It just didn’t sound like him, at all.

“Garrett, you’re worrying me!”

There was a short pause and then Garrett’s voice crackled down the line, sharp and biting. “Well you don’t need to worry – I’m not your responsibility Brandy!”

My mouth snapped shut. The boys shuffled around uncomfortably and I suddenly regretted putting Garrett on speakerphone. Not his responsibility? What was that supposed to mean? That I wasn’t allowed to be worried about him? I was his best friend, what bullshit.

Finally I replied. “Are you coming to the studio?” I asked coldly.

“I’m on my way! Jeez!”

“Well you’re late,” I snapped.

“By like five minutes. I’ll be there in two, tell the guys.”

“Tell them yourself, they’re all here waiting for you.”

The others realised that this was their cue to make themselves known and they muttered out some greetings, looking uncomfortable. John, however, yelled “Get your ass here Nickelsen. Sort out your lady problems later!”

I heard Garrett groan. “Brandy why is this phone call on speakerphone?”

“Because we were all concerned, Garrett,” I stressed. “Friends do that, you know?”

There was a pause. I didn’t think Garrett appreciated my sarcasm. “I’m nearly there,” he said shortly, and then promptly hung up. We all stared at the receiver for a second after the call ended, slightly astonished.

“Well that went well,” John deadpanned.

“Shut up John-oh.” I told him flatly.

Xxx

A minute later Garrett came barrelling into the studio, an empty cup of coffee in his hands, still in the same shirt he’d been wearing yesterday. He strode straight over to where his bass was stored and settled the guitar strap around his neck, all without saying a word or looking at any of us.

“Alright,” he said firmly, “I’m here, let’s start.”

Pat swung around on his desk chair away from the soundboard and looked Garrett up and down. “You alright man?”

“I’m fine Pat. Let’s go.” Garrett replied from under his fringe, focussing on the tuning of his bass.

Jared coughed trying to cover the awkwardness that had snuck into the room with him, and I looked to John and shrugged. He just rolled his eyes and motioned me over. They played me the demo first, and John indicated what vocals he’d like me to add and where, and we worked on our harmonies before putting anything down. The boys kept time while Pat kept everything ticking over by the computer.

They mostly wanted me to just add ‘ahhhs’ as a backdrop for John’s voice with some more harmonizing towards the end. For a couple of hours I forgot about Garrett being odd and cold and lost myself in the music. My voice contrasted so nicely with John’s rough crooning and our voices together melded really well, I thought. They lyrics I was being asked to sing were, to tell the truth, downright depressing, and although I was enjoying recording, it made me feel sad for John. Obviously this was some expression of how he was feeling, still cut up about his previous relationship, but my heart went out to Hannah as well, who can’t have taken these songs very well. It would be like all the effort she was making with John was for nothing.

For a while they made me sing alone, with Jared beside me to keep time, so they could isolate my vocals and then layer them up. Pat played me the effect afterwards, and I had to admit it sounded awesome. They added it to the track, behind some of John’s pre-recorded vocals and the effect was instantaneous – it added so much atmosphere. Every guy in the room had massive grins on their faces, including Garrett. It just proved there is always something about music that gets you caught up in the moment.

I caught Garrett looking at me a couple of times when I was at the mic. His focus wasn’t on the placement of his fingers and the acoustic bass he was playing, but instead on the way I was singing. He wasn’t smiling or anything really, just looking at me. It made me self-conscious, so I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on the feeling of the melody flowing through me.

After what seemed ages and also no time at all, Jared put down his guitar and stretched out his cramping fingers. Pat hit the spacebar on the computer and swung around to grin at us all. “That’s a wrap!”

I cheered a little and laughed and the guys gave each other slaps on the backs and did manly fist-bumps, which always amused me.

“Alright! Who’s up for a drink then?” Jared proposed.

Kennedy nodded readily and Pat got up from his chair, grinning happily. Even Garrett chimed in with a “Hell yeah!” All three of them migrated towards the door and Pat, Gare and Ken exited, chatting about the EP. Jared stopped in the doorway to look back to where I was hesitating; fiddling with the rings I always wore on my fingers. I wasn’t sure if I should come with Garrett maybe angry with me still.

“You coming Brandy?” He looked past me to where John was fiddling with some electrical cords. “John-oh?”

I decided I didn’t care. I was hurt by the way Garrett was behaving, but I wouldn’t let it stop me from having a good time. “Yeah, let me just grab my phone, I’ll—” I started

John cut across me, much to my surprise, and my smile fell from my mouth. “Yeah, we’re right behind you. I just want to talk to Brandy for a bit.”

Jared looked surprised for a second, probably echoing my own expression, and then shrugged. “Meet you in the bar?”

“Yeah sure,” John replied vaguely before turning to face me. I eyed him warily.

“What’s up?”

“That was some sweet signing you did there, darlin’” he smiled at me. I blushed and tucked my hair behind my ears self-consciously. Like I said, I loved to sing, but I was never brave to make anything of it, like John did. That’s why I stuck to recording, and apparently needed to be drunk to actually perform anything. Pity that I chose to perform Shania Twain of all things.

‘Thanks,” I said genuinely. “It means a lot.”

“Did you like how it sounded on tape?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s a really cool effect. It fits the EP perfectly,” I told him. I was starting to wonder why John had kept me back for this, however. Did he just want to talk about the song some more?

He grinned at me. “This is definitely my favourite way to record – ain’t never going back to anything else, I tell you.” He paused, looking hesitant for a second. “Listen, there’s something I wanna ask you. I’ve written this song, and I’m not gonna lie, I’m really proud of it. I wanted to put it on the EP too and I was wondering if you’d give it a listen first.”

My first reaction was to be oddly touched that John wanted me to hear it. I mean, sure I’d just recorded with him, but I wasn’t heavily involved in their creative process or anything, and I wasn’t super close with John like I was with Garrett. I nodded anyway, but suddenly very wary of what he was about to show me. Why me? He picked up Jared’s guitar from the couch and started to pick out a really pretty guitar pattern, slightly falteringly. I imagined Jared playing it and knew it would be beautiful though. He started to sing softly over the top. As soon as he started on the lyrics I grew uncomfortable; the song was hauntingly pretty, but the messages behind his words made me want to get up and leave.

“Oh I woke up and I felt let down
You tied up your silver hair and left this town
You’re three hundred something miles away
I close my eyes and I all I see is your face

Hallucinating things are fine in my head
Illuminating the right side of my bed
And--
We kissed and we fought
I laughed and you screamed
Oh I’ve learned to loathe these goddamn visions
But I just can’t wait to fall back to sleep”

John had his eyes closed as he played and my heart constricted at the sight. That girl had fucked him up good and proper. Eventually his fingers stilled on the guitar neck and he looked at me expectantly. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Yeah, John. It would fit the EP perfectly,” I managed lamely.

He narrowed his eyes at me and sighed. “I can’t put it on there can I?”

“Not while you’re with Hannah you can’t. Like I understand you’re not actually cheating on her, John, but I think this almost constitutes as emotional infidelity.”

He smiled sadly at my phrasing, but nodded. “I couldn’t play it for the guys. They’d give me so much shit over it.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not gonna lie, I kind of want to give you shit for it too. I mean Hannah’s my friend, and you sure seem like you’re just leading her on when you come up with songs like that.”

“I like her, I really do - she’s funny and so level-headed…” He tailed off and I shook my head at him, it was so obvious.

“If you don’t feel that way about her why are you still with her?” I asked him plainly. I tried to keep my voice soft but I realised my words were still going to hurt him – the cold hard truth. Somehow you always ended up being truthful when someone played for you like that. It was always so intimate; this person opening up and displaying themselves through their art, so beating around the bush afterwards seemed stupid.

John winced. “I’m a terrible person,” he said quietly.

“Not completely terrible. Be honest with her – that’s the right thing to do.”

He nodded slowly in agreement. “If I do that, will you sing with me on the track? I think it could do with some female vocals.”

I looked at him steadily and nodded. “Yeah sure. But you’ve got to swear, O’Callaghan, okay?”

He gestured over his chest solemnly. “Cross my heart. I’ll talk to her.”

“Good. Can we go to the bar now?”

“Hang on there’s something else.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“You and Garrett. What gives?”

I shrugged, trying to pretend I didn’t care. “Dunno, ask him. In fact, ask him where he was last night and why he’s getting angry about the fact that I was worried. It’s ridiculous.”

John frowned at me. “And that’s really it?”

“Pretty much.”

“So you two haven’t…you weren’t…last night…or in the past…” He broke off to look at me pointedly, and as soon as I realised what he meant, I flushed scarlet.

“No! No, of course we haven’t! No way. Garrett has a girlfriend. I’m, I’m...” I stuttered. John looked surprised.

“Well we all just figured he was round your place. He and Rhiannon had a massive falling out the other afternoon and he disappeared on us from the studio – said he felt sick – and the next thing we know he’s texting us to say he’s at your house at 11pm. I mean, he was in a state when he left the studio – I think Kennedy said something to him, too.”

I took all of this in and felt even more confused. “He was fine when he got to my house in the afternoon. I mean he talked about Rhiannon and what Ken said a little bit, and I know he’s a bit conflicted at the moment-“

“Conflicted is the right word,” John said lowly. I sensed a double meaning in his words and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

John suddenly went back to propping up Jared’s guitar and making sure all the equipment was turned off. “Nothing,” he muttered. I let it go, not finding enough energy to try and decode it immediately. John straightened up to look at me.

“So what was that at the party then? Your little number with Garrett?”

I buried my face in my hands. “Please don’t tell me you remember that!” I moaned through my fingers. I heard John chuckle.

“’Fraid so. And Brandy – you were pulling some killer moves on him. Unless I completely misread the situation there, which I’m pretty sure was impossible, there is definitely something going on between the two of you.”

“Noo,” I groaned. “That was just me being drunk as hell and really really stupid. There’s nothing going on.”

John crossed his arms and looked at me disbelievingly. “You know you can tell me right? Hell, I’m not gonna judge you, I’ve done some stupid things too. If you and Garrett and hooking up while he’s still with Rhiannon, I mean you’re both adults and I can’t say I approve, but you’ve gotta get Garrett to make a decision-“

“What?” I exclaimed, “No, Garrett and I are not together! Garrett is not cheating on Rhiannon with me!”

John actually took a step back from my outburst. “Ookayy,” he drew out. “So what was the party then?”

“Me! I like Garrett! I’m actually pretty sure I’m in love with Garrett! But I can’t tell him! Alright?!”

John looked absolutely flabbergasted and genuinely sorry for me. “Shit,” he said quietly. “Shit, I’m sorry, Brandy, I didn’t mean to push you. I just thought there was something —“

I cut him off with a sigh and scraped my hair into a ponytail, smoothing down my bangs. I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and turned my back on him.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s still with Rhiannon and he doesn’t like me so we’re wasting our breath talking about it.”

I heard John come up behind me and felt a hand on my shoulder. “Shouldn’t you talk to him about it? You never know what might happen.”

I’d heard that speech before, from Tayla, from my Mom too embarrassingly, but I still couldn’t gather that courage to actually do it.

“No,” I told him. “Now can we go?”

John swept his keys off the coffee table and pocketed them. “Sure, we’ll take my truck. Come on.”