Page 44 of Falls From Grace
“Nothing about you has ever disappointed me,” Savannah said softly, and Brynn swallowed.
“I’ve-” she started and then stopped herself. She’d been about to tell Savannah she’d missed her. “How have you been?” she asked instead.
“Good,” Savannah said. “Busy,” she exhaled. Then she straightened. “Which reminds me, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”
Brynn followed her out to the living room. She didn’t remember the sun setting, but Savannah must have turned the lights on on her way through. Standing looking out toward the pool was a skinny white person with short lavender hair, mostly shaved on one side but flopping over the top in a bright swoop. They turned and Brynn saw fine features, a strong, angular jaw, olive skin and big golden-brown eyes fixed on her with a bright, interested gaze.
“This is Lane,” Savannah introduced them. “Lane, Brynn.” Brynn reached out to shake their hand. “Are you guys okay to share your pronouns?”
“Oh, sure,” Brynn said. “I’m she/her.”
“They/them.” Lane gave her a little backward ‘sup nod.
That was easy and seamless. Brynn couldn’t help but tuck into her brain this new knowledge of the clear comfort and ease Savannah had with queer etiquette. But then again, it was just human etiquette, after all, and she was always an immaculate hostess.
“Lane is our new nanny,” Savannah explained to her.
Brynn blanched.
“What? You’re firing me? But I love looking after Tucker.” She was shocked by the level of sadness she felt.
“You can still hang out with Tucker whenever you want,” Savannah reassured her with a smile. “And you’re not being fired. We’re just going to be so busy recording the next few days that I’m going to need childcare. And then after that, well… I don’t know how much more time we’re going to have left.” Brynn swallowed hard at that as Savannah looked away, her eyes unreadable. She turned back to Brynn and shrugged. “I want as much songwriting time with you as possible.”
“At least let me look after him while you record,” Brynn tried. “He doesn’t need to be left with a stranger - no offense.” She glanced at Lane, who shrugged. “Not if I’m here.”
“Brynn.” Savannah cocked her head, a trace of concern in her eyes. “You know you’re recording with us, don’t you?”
“Me?” Brynn was so shocked, she looked behind her as if a different Brynn might be standing there.
Savannah bit back a smile.
“We’re doing the longing song this week. It’s written as a duet. Who did you think was going to be singing it with me?”
“Someone professional?” Brynn’s voice cracked. Savannah stepped closer to her.
“I don’t want to sing it with anyone other than you,” she murmured, looking up into her eyes. Brynn swallowed. A long moment passed as they gazed at each other.
“Okay,” she croaked. She was far from sure, but she couldn’t say anything other than yes when Savannah was looking at her that way. “Are you sure they’re qualified, though?” she whispered, making one last attempt to wriggle out of it. “They look about twelve.” She glanced over at Lane.
Savannah laughed.
“I told you Brynn would want to vet you too,” she told Lane. “Can you reassure her, please?”
Lane grinned.
“I’ve been a nanny for three years and I’m studying to be a kindergarten teacher. Oh,” they looked up at Savannah’s gesture, “and my first job was as a kid’s swimming instructor so I’m CPR qualified.”
Brynn looked hard at them. “Okay, young grasshopper,” she said. “I guess I can hand on the baton.”
That night, the band arrived and everyone gathered for a big reunion, pre-recording dinner party. The atmosphere was raucous, the band reunited, their stories and fond ribbing all tumbling over each other. Savannah sparkled in the middle of it - the other band members all seemed to take great joy in teasing her - and she absorbed it all with happiness. She was also a great host, making sure Noah and Brynn were included, throwing to them both regularly, her eyes flicking up to Brynn’s enough times to induce a warm glow in her chest.
Conversation turned to the planned recording session. Everyone seemed beyond excited to record the new tracks. The way they talked it was as if they were about to embark on a new odyssey, one that included epic tours on the road, press junkets, parties and music music music, and all of it hinged on recording one hell of an album.
“I’m not remotely nervous anymore,” declared Savannah after her second glass of red wine. “I have my secret weapons, after all.” She nodded over at Noah and Brynn. “Everything we write turns to gold.” There was a raucous cheer at that. “And wait until you hear her sing.” She pointed at Brynn. “You’ve only heard a crappy demo. To be in the room with her: it’s going to blow your minds.”
“Oh, please, no-” Brynn did not want to be hyped, but she was drowned out as everyone raised their glasses and toasted to her noisily. She went scarlet. Savannah caught her eye and gave her a private, pretty smirk, and raised her glass one more time.
Brynn lay awake, staring at the ceiling for what felt like the entire night. In the morning, they were all chauffeured to Music Row and into a vast recording studio. It was a sign of the massive clout Savannah’s name held that space had been made for the sessions at such short notice. Some lesser known artist would have been turfed out to make way for them today, and that knowledge hung over Brynn as she traipsed in behind the band. This was the big leagues. The fact that she was here at all was bordering on an absurd joke.
