Page 145 of Just Wait

If Tennyson was here, it would be a full ensemble.

It’s rare for a band to have three guitarists, but I understand why they added Parish.

Andrew used to play the keyboard on the songs that needed it, and Tennyson doesn’t play piano. They either had to choose between cutting the songs that required a keyboardist or making a place for Parish. They made the right call. Having three guitarists allows for a layered sound that most bands can’t achieve, even if it can be chaotic at times.

The fans are going to love “When The Time Comes.”

Malcolm should be insanely proud of his creation.

It makes me want to work on the song I was trying to lay down last night.

I think I’m going to set it up where Malcolm comes in first. All playful and flirty, but in lyric form.

Kincaid will be the gruff voice of reason.

I clearly haven’t worked out all the mechanics yet, but I want to mimic the energy they have when they step out on stage and introduce themselves, bantering back and forth…

Just in song form.

There’s every possibility that it won’t work, but I’m going to try.

“I want more of that,” Kincaid says, pulling off his Telecaster and putting it on the stand.

“Me too,” Riser says, nodding. His curls fall over his forehead, and he shoves them back.

“That was all Malcolm,” I say, gesturing at him with both hands.

“Nah.” Mal throws a sweaty arm around my shoulders. “I can’t take credit for what it became.”

My face heats. “Without what you had, I never could have tweaked it. I wouldn’t have come up with anything like that, but I do want to give it a go at creating something just for you guys. I mean, if you’re up for it. You don’t have to take it, if you don’t like it.”

A horrible thought crosses my mind.

Malcolm and I both worked on “When The Time Comes,” so it only makes sense that he could negotiate to ensure it goes to Liminal. However, anything I write on my own, I have to offer to the label.

I blurt all of that out, shaking my head. “Maybe I signed that contract prematurely?”

“Nah, don’t stress,” Kincaid says. “Hawthorne knows what he’s doing. You could negotiate a clause that says who you want the song to go to. If they don’t agree, you can always walk and sell the song directly to us.”

“Right,” I whisper, feeling like an idiot. “Sorry, I’m still really new to how all this works.”

“Don’t stress, baby doll,” Malcolm says, kissing my temple. “We’ve got your back.”

Maybe I’m naive, but it really feels like they do.

The second show in Wilmington is killer.

Liminal’s greenroom is busy, but the energy is on point.

Tennyson cuts up lines, and everyone takes a turn before the guys except Riser head to the shower.

Wren lies across one of the chairs, appearing bored. At least she no longer looks like she’s about to hurl at any moment.

I take the opportunity to text my dad. I hate talking on the phone, but I have checked in with him a few times. He didn’t say much when I told him Theo and I broke up, which is why I opted to break the news via text.

I grimace when I realize what time it is, but I assume he’ll respond in the morning. Dropping my phone on my lap, I snuggle closer to Riser.

“Are you not showering tonight?”