Friends Don't Fall in Love(48)
But that’s not what everyone is talking about. It’s the song he’s playing. His song. I’ve heard it a million times. Everyone has. Drake made it famous, but this is different. It’s as though Craig is playing it the way it was meant to be played—the way it was meant to sound. Drake’s version is polished and precise. Manufactured in an expensive studio with the best, highest-quality equipment available.
Craig is playing it in a tiny, dark space. The sound quality is more than fine, but it feels intimate. Uncut and raw, somehow. Like he’s playing it from his bedroom the morning after. Like I just left.
And then he surprises me—surprises us all—with an entire bridge never heard before.
So I’m here, my door unlocked
My bed unmade, my heart unblocked
I’m right here, begging you to come back
To reach across, to be my one
And only then, will I find peace
My soul can rest, I’ll breathe with ease
Until that day, here I’ll remain,
Craving her, I’m jonesin’
I press my fingers to my lips, my eyes filling with proud tears. “You brilliant man,” I whisper to the ceiling between us.
He’s done it. He’s found a way to claim his song.
20
CRAIG
ASK ME HOW I KNOW
Craigboseman ***Presented Without Comment***
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AnnieMathers Always loved this song, but that bridge? chef kiss JeffersonCoolidge About damn time.
Sparklegrrl I like this more than the original!
IversMusic Wait. I thought this was about Lorelai Jones Faltercation Colter always claimed it was …
Iversmusic Is Lorelai Jones the new Layla??????
Momof3weeee fans self
Eddvark85 Drake sang it better, but I’m digging the unplugged feel BakersDozenTheBand We knew you could write, but singing and playing? A man of many talents!
Musky.Maren I knew you had it in you, Huckleberry.
ShelbySpringfieldRiggs Get ’em, Tiger.
JaketheSnake I heard Boseman wrote all of Colter’s songs Faltercation Worst-kept Nashville secret
CameronRiggs Looks like someone needs a music video … I might know a guy.
CMT eyeballs
Arlo.in.the.fedora Glad to see our luncheon helped!
LorelaiJones Huck, could not be prouder of you, darlin’.
* * *
Arlo picks up my phone, powering it down and tossing it onto my desk with a thud. “If you aren’t gonna answer, and believe me, I understand why you aren’t, then let’s just conserve the battery, and by default your sound engineer’s sanity, hm?”
“Sorry,” I apologize distractedly. “It’s just Drake. Or his lawyers. Or Drake and his lawyers.”
“Or, you know, CMT calling our offices. Pretty eventful stuff. Incidentally, boss, I wasn’t aware we had a landline listed. Anyone who knows better just reaches out to you or me directly.”
I’m clicking around on my laptop, putting together a couple of demo tracks I lined up for Coolidge, aside from the duet, to play for him today. “We don’t have one listed. I haven’t bothered because then I would have to hire someone to answer said landline.”
“We should set up a voice mail at the very least.”
“Someone would have to check it and respond. You want to be that person?”
Arlo scoffs, adjusting his hat. “I’m a sound engineer.”
“And I can’t be answering it, because I’m the fucking CEO, so what we’re gonna do is let it ring, without a voice mail, and if they really need to get ahold of either of us, they’ll call our cells.”
“I’m sensing tension.”
I continue clicking around, unseeing. “I’m not tense, I’m tired and I’m busy and I’m preparing for our next client who is supposed to arrive any minute and I can’t concentrate with my phone ringing and vibrating every forty fucking seconds with notifications from Colter because he’s anxious about his precious Grammy nod. I just need a moment of fucking peace and quiet to hear myself think.”
“Riiight. Got you,” Arlo stage-whispers before turning for the door. When he reaches it, he glances over his shoulder with what I am positive he thinks is a jaunty smirk. “And so we’re clear, you don’t want to know when there’s a powerhouse brunette pacing outside our front doors?”
I raise a single eyebrow, but my gut tells me I already know the one he’s talking about, and therefore I’m rolling back in my chair to the lone window, peering through the slats in the wood blinds. “What is she doing outside?”
“No idea, but I’m betting she’s not here for me.”
I watch Lorelai pace a small circle in high-heeled boots before jumping to my feet and marching out of our offices and down the stairs and shoving through the heavy metal door.
“You’re not on the schedule, are you?”
Lorelai shrieks and jumps three inches in the air. “Jesus Christ, Huck, are you trying to kill me?”
I lean against the doorjamb and cross my ankles. “More like trying to figure out why you’re out here and not in there?”