Rockstar Serenade: The Verse

Ch 19: This Isn't A Love Song, It's A Bitter Tale

TREVOR~

 

Paper and pen won’t do much to improve my skills as a musician, I thought to myself. But whenever I think that this is Chris’ directive I quickly snap the thought away. At times like this, especially when another competition dawns near, the best thing I could do is to put all my faith on an experienced, trusted musician.

These written words appear like scribbles of an elementary kid to me. My handwriting could get really messy when I feel tired. But that doesn’t affect the flow of thoughts and emotions though. The composition sounds fairly good if I imagine playing it in my head, and I’d probably be able to perfect it once I get started working on the actual notes.

Chris hovers over my shoulder, skims through my work and speaks. “How’s the writing, Trev?”

“A bit boring,” I reply honestly and impatiently. “But I got two verses and one working chorus.”

He takes the paper from me. As he reads it I mentally hide myself under the table, embarrassed that my very first song composition is being assessed by a famous man who has already played with his band at all over the fifty states. When I see him narrow his eyes at the paper I grow even more conscious. Dang, I should be working on the lead guitar, not on some song-writing.

“This isn’t a love song,” he says.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “It’s a bitter tale.”

“Sounds like it,” he replies, taking the seat beside me. Finally letting out a laugh, he asks, “Who’s the girl you’re referring to? ‘I’d bet you put yourself through hell. You did this for yourself. I can’t believe I wished you well’?”

I blink a few times before turning my head away. That song’s for Josephine, but I wouldn’t want to talk about her anymore.

“’Open up your eyes so you could see, that I’m not perfect. That’s what I’m trying to be, ‘cause I know you’re worth it.’”

“You’re starting to humiliate me, Chris. When you recite it rather than sing it just sounds so stupid.”

Instead he ignores me and continues to read on. “Just the thought of you, walking hand in hand, with somebody else. Reinventing things we do, but they’ll never match, to the love thrown down the well’? Man, Trevor! A brilliant song you’ve got here!”

“Ugh, stop it. Can we just proceed to the guitar already?!” I snarl.

After a moment of realizing that I raised my voice higher than I’m supposed to, I hope that Chris didn’t catch the exasperation in my tone. But I am too late to hope for anything. “Being impatient, are we? Trevor?”

I mumble an apology, but he has this habit of ignoring what I say if he chooses to. “Look, as much as you want to improve yourself, your band itself is top priority. The band’s cooperation and coordination with each other comes first before selfishness. You tell me you don’t even have your band yet! Your next priority would be the music that you’ll play because that’s a huge factor when the judges evaluate you, and that’s what we’re working on right now!”

This is the first time Chris raises his voice at me. I get stunned in my own fear, thinking to myself that these CJA folks are just as intimidating as their kind when it comes to serious stuff about music.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble again.

“God,” he sighs. “You know that I’m already giving you tips for the competition, right? And that this is illegal? And that Terra will cut my head off and mount it on a pitch fork when she finds out?”