Page 18 of Falls From Grace
Savannah looked at her for a long moment. There was something in her eyes that Brynn couldn’t read.
“I mean. You can? It’s out there forever. I don’t know why it makes me feel weird thinking about you listening to it,” she said softly. “Maybe because you’re the one person I’ve met in a while who doesn’t know me as the other half of that whole… thing.”
“Then I won’t,” Brynn said decisively. “Not if it makes you feel uncomfortable. Mostly, I just wanted to hear you sing,” she confessed. Savannah tucked her hair behind her ear. For someone who had fame, money, power and prestige, she looked very small all of a sudden.
“Noah and I are going to lay down a couple of demos this afternoon,” her voice was halting. “You could come listen, if you want to. If you don’t have other plans.”
Brynn stared at her. “Really? I mean…yes! I would love that. If you don’t mind.” God, they were both acting excruciatingly vulnerable today. She could see why Savannah might feel exposed by inviting her to listen in to new music, but for some reason Brynn felt like she was risking something too.
“I don’t mind.” A small smile crossed Savannah’s lips. “It would be nice to have another opinion. Now that I trust your taste in music a little more.”
A couple of hours later, Brynn sunk into a comfy couch in the band room. She hadn’t been down there before, but she liked the feel of it. It was dim, almost windowless, cozy with low golden lighting and instruments everywhere. She’d asked Noah where they’d be recording and he revealed that the space was wired as a recording studio, with a sealed sound booth and mixing deck off to one side.
When they were ready to record the real deal, they’d have a whole team involved: the band, sound guys, Chester, maybe they’d even head back to Nashville, he wasn’t sure. Today they were just laying down early demos they could send to the band for their input, and recording basically involved Noah running from one room to the other to flick mysterious switches.
Brynn tried to make herself invisible. She didn’t want to disrupt the process and was acutely aware of how lucky she was to be in the room at all. She had always loved watching Noah do his thing; every time he pulled a guitar over his head, her best friend looked transformed. He was supremely confident whether he was on a big stage or messing about with a riff. Savannah, on the other hand, seemed nervous. She fussed with the setup and spent an age making sure their instruments were tuned. Brynn wondered what it must feel like to be trying to prove yourself on such a high level. She could empathize.
Suddenly though, the fussing and discussions ceased and they both took their place at a microphone. Noah had a bass guitar and sat, while Savannah plugged her electric guitar into an amp and stood. They nodded at each other and Noah counted them in. Any nerves Savannah had seemed to disappear as she began to strum. Her long hair was loose and she looked damn good with a guitar.
Brynn was about ten feet away. She wished it was further because she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her face. Neither musician was looking in her direction, but she knew she was in their peripheral vision. Then Savannah opened her mouth and began to sing, and Brynn forgot everything else.
Her voice was unbelievably… well, sexy, was the first word that came to mind. It was sweet but powerful, with the occasional throaty edge. The sound seemed too big for her small body.The song started out slow, then it climbed. The structure wasn’t verse-chorus-verse but one haunting ascent. The guitar picked up pace, with the bass thrumming below it and Savannah’s words became frenetic, her raging voice breaking at the top. Brynn realized her own knees were quivering slightly at the power of the onslaught of sound. The crescendo was furious, but somehow beneath it, it made you want to move. As the last notes faded into silence, she realized her mouth was hanging open.
Suddenly, both sets of eyes were on her.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Noah. He was grinning, clearly high on the adrenaline of the killer song. Savannah was breathing the same way she did after a run, her chest heaving, and her eyes still reflected the emotion she’d been channeling. Brynn didn’t have the words. She instead made a show of slithering from the couch to the floor and laying there, flat on her back, her arms flung over her head. She heard laughter - Savannah’s, with Noah’s in the background - then the sound of a high five.
“Really?” Savannah’s voice had drifted much closer and Brynn looked up to see her standing over her with her hands on her hips. She looked pleased, though. Brynn didn’t move.
“Fuck,” she breathed. “That was… not country music.”
Savannah snorted and nudged her ribs with her boot. “Like you’d know.”
Brynn sat up for her own physical safety, and reached out a hand, letting Savannah pull her up. She ended up standing slightly too close to the other woman and made herself step back. She looked down into Savannah’s eyes. “I don’t know what you sounded like before, but that was… you… are incredible,” she said, her filter blown to shreds.
Savannah gazed up at her. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I owe you for that song.” Brynn shook her head, glad Noah had ducked back into the sound booth.
“Nope. That was all you.”
Savannah still hadn’t stepped away. She started to open her mouth to say something else, when the door opened and Noah returned. The moment broke as Savannah turned away and headed back to the mic, picking up an acoustic guitar this time.
The next song was more traditionally structured, but Brynn wasn’t sure she could describe the genre while it was stripped back the way it was. Noah sang backup on the chorus, adding to the richness of Savannah’s voice, and Brynn suddenly realized she had a lump in her throat. The lyrics were of loneliness, but the chorus offered the chance of warmth. You make me wonder, they sang, if I could have a home again one day.
Again, both sets of eyes were on her as the song ended.
“I love it,” she said softly. “I love it a lot.”
“Yes!” Noah pumped his fist. “It’s a good one!” He hustled off to the sound booth again. Savannah stayed where she was.
“You really like it?” she asked. “I’m glad,” she responded to Brynn’s slow, emphatic nod. “Me too.”
That evening they all ate dinner together, after Savannah had returned from settling Tucker for the night. Chester had reappeared, apparently after heading back to Nashville to smooth over a few things with the record label. He chatted about it blithely - that the executives weren’t thrilled with the amount of time the solo album was taking, their objection to the fact that Savannah was straying from her tried-and-true country roots - and Savannah looked more and more miserable the more he spoke.
“Hey, Chester,” Brynn broke in. “Where in Burlington would you recommend for buying winter gear? I’m pretty sure it’s not about to get any warmer up here.”
“Oh! Well, there are a few good options,” Chester started brightly. “Are you looking for fashion or for more of an outdoorsy look?”
Brynn felt Savannah’s eyes on her as she gamely led poor Chester to believe she would take his extremely comprehensive and informed shopping advice. Soon enough they moved on to Burlington’s other attractions, then the weather generally, including whether or not they’d be here to see some snow. The singer caught her eye and smiled at her, grateful.
