Page 19 of Falls From Grace
After eating, they all ended up having drinks around the fireplace. Chester sat on one of the big cushy armchairs, while Noah and Brynn shared a couch and Savannah lounged back on another, looking almost relaxed. She rested back into the cushions, her legs kicked up in front of her, her sweater clinging to her body, while the wine glass almost dangled from her elegant fingers. Her lip quirked as if she was enjoying a private joke, though her lashes were low and she gazed into the middle distance, zoning out from the conversation in the room. Brynn would have paid good money to know what was going on in her mind.
“Hm?” Brynn asked, distantly realizing that Noah had said her name a couple of times. He gave her a concerned look, and she realized she’d been drowsily gazing at Savannah’s reclined form until the rest of the world had slipped away. It was officially time to call it: Brynn had a serious crush.
Of course Savannah was beautiful; she was a goddamned megastar. On top of that, she was intensely charming, with those fathomless eyes and blinding smile that made you feel like you were the only thing that had ever mattered. Spending time hanging out with her and Tucker had only shown Brynn more sides of Savannah, leaving her incredibly aware of how compelling she was; god, all of it had felt intoxicating. But watching Savannah sing had turned out to have been a truly terrible idea. Brynn couldn’t shake the image of her body behind a guitar, the tilt of her throat, the blaze in her eyes, the ease of her beautiful voice. It was one-hundred percent a crush and it was exponentially worse than it had been the day before.
Clearly, there was no way in hell she could indulge this particular crush. The whole facade of their fake marriage and Noah’s huge career opportunity hinged on Brynn leaving this the hell alone. It pained her to realize, but considering how many weeks or even months they might have left, she knew it was definitely time to put some solid distance between herself and Savannah.
Chapter Eight
That week, the weather turned bleak for good. The beautiful bright fall days gave way to dark metallic skies and relentless rain. The wind blew in mournful howls around the house and the cold outside was merciless. Two days in a row Savannah had tried to go for her morning run only to be beaten back by lashing rain and ice, with wind gusts strong enough to stop her in her tracks. She felt restless and caged. There was a small gym on the second floor with a view of the storm and she ran hard on the treadmill, wishing for fresh air and escape, but it just wasn’t the same.
She was frustrated, and not just with the weather. After such a promising start, she and Noah had hit a brick wall with a resounding thud. A full week had gone by and they had nothing to show for it. They tossed around ideas, played each other scraps of melodies, tried to write lyrics, but nothing was working.
The band room was starting to feel oppressive, the dim warm space no longer a haven but a trap. They tried writing in the living room in front of the fire, but they both felt self-conscious whenever anyone else was around. Seeing Chester made her feel anxious; the staff apologized and scuttled through as though caught trespassing and Brynn disappeared immediately if she so much as poked her head in and saw them there. There were numerous other spaces they could - and did - try, but they both were coming to the realization it wasn’t going to be magically solved by finding the right room to work in.
Something just wasn’t clicking. By the end of the week Savannah called time.
“Let’s just give it a break for a few days.” She worked hard to keep her tone light. “It’s been a long week and maybe we just need to have some time away from it and come back.”
Noah nodded. He looked worried. “Yeah, totally,” he said, scratching his chin. “We’ll just chill for a little while and come back fresh.”
Savannah did not want to chill. She wanted the same wild, sharp inspiration to hit her as it had with Beware the Fury. She wanted a return of the deep sad sweetness of Make Me Wonder. She wanted the full and satisfying feeling of music suddenly pouring through her. She wanted to work, damnit. And if she couldn’t have that, she at the very least wanted to go for a freaking run. Being both cooped up and creatively blocked made her want to climb out of her damn skin.
“Motherfucker!” she cried, her annoyance spilling over as her shoelace came untied and she nearly tripped on the treadmill. She slammed her hand onto the emergency stop button and slid off the back of the machine, breathing hard.
“Woah! Sorry,” Brynn stood awkwardly, half in and half out of the room. She was wearing very short black running shorts and a loose red t-shirt, cropped so that when she raised her arm to scratch the back of her neck a sliver of tanned abdomen came into view. She was clearly here for a workout. “I’ll come back later.”
“No, Brynn, it’s fine-” Savannah called to the other woman, but she’d already turned and left.
“All good!” Brynn’s voice came down the corridor as she kept walking. Savannah sighed. For the last week she’d seen almost nothing of Noah’s wife. Despite the weather trapping them all indoors, their paths never seemed to cross. Only twice she’d seen her at dinner where she’d been polite but guarded, as if they’d never laughed together or passed a giggling child between them, the teasing spark in her eyes fully extinguished. Savannah knew it was stupid to mourn something that had barely existed, but she found that she did.
She wasn’t sure what had happened. Maybe Noah was pissed at her over the terrible writing week, so his wife was too? That seemed unlike what she knew of either of them, but then, what did she know? Maybe her writer’s block was making her completely miserable to be around, to the point everyone was dying to avoid her and Brynn was simply the only one with the luxury to do so. Or just maybe, Savannah’s life was too weird for her to relate to anyone anymore and she was just terrible at making friends. It felt like a tiny spark that had only just been lit was being extinguished. Her shoulders slumped.
She flicked off the lights in the gym and headed back up to her wing to shower. Afterwards, she called Coral.
“I miss you,” she told her friend after she’d finished explaining her terrible week. “Any chance you want to change your plans and come back to hang out with a washed-up has-been?”
“Oh honey,” Coral huffed. “I heard your new tracks. You’re killing it. Any artist would commit murder for even one song as good as that. You’re allowed a down week for crying out loud.”
“So that’s a no, then?” Savannah gazed out through the rain-lashed window to the gray lake. The water was so churned up by the wind that it looked like the sea.
“I would love to. The minute we get through the next sixteen dates we’re booked, I’ll be there. Nothing will hold me back,” she promised. “Even though, for reasons that escape me, you’re holed up in literally the whitest corner in the entire of America. That is how much I love you honey, that I will come and hang out with you in fucking Vermont.”
Coral was touring with one of her side projects. The biggest problem with Coral was that she was a powerhouse; she never ran out of energy for hitting the road and performing her ass off. She was a killer drummer and her smoky vocals had her always in demand. Savannah just hoped she could win her back when - if - this writing hiatus ever ended.
“Where are you tonight?” she asked.
“Richmond,” Coral sighed.
“Virginia? Text me when you get to your hotel room tonight?”
“Yes, mom.” Savannah could pretty much hear her eyeroll, but she knew there’d be a text later. When your best friend was a Black trans woman touring the Bible Belt, worry and safety check-ins became second nature.
“Mama! Mama!” Tucker’s pleading went from plaintive to shrill, and Coral quickly said her goodbyes, never one for indulging in kid time.
“What’s the matter, peanut?” Savannah scooped up her small boy and held him close. He wriggled, pushing against her chest until she let him go.
“Lellow Digger?” He passed her his book, yet again, his face earnest. With a sigh, she cuddled him back close and began to read his favorite - and her least favorite - book all over again. The recitation of the familiar words made her recall Brynn’s enthusiastic reading and her son’s excitement at another adult paying him much needed attention. The contrast between the sweetness of that moment and the extreme distance from Brynn this morning nagged at her. When Tucker went down for his nap, Savannah couldn’t stop herself. She marched to the other end of the house and banged on Noah and Brynn’s door.
