When I’m all alone at night
I can feel the beating of your heart
I should tell you
And I might
Before it tears me apart
All I ever think about
All I ever dream about
Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?
A.J. could feel the pounding bass, the staccato rhythm of the drumbeats and guitar chords as if it were his own heartbeat. Closing his eyes and denying his current project, he allowed himself to drown in Brian McKnight’s soulful voice. Typically, he would be the person playing the "Back at One" album; today, it was Brian’s turn.
Want you
Need you
Can’t live without you
A.J. returned to the task at hand – the melody that had haunted him for the past week. He stared at the clusters and lines of notes that graced the paper in front of him. It wasn’t a symphony by any means and it still needed some work. Yet, even he couldn’t deny that in its raw form, the music was beautiful. He could feel it and hear it in his soul as clearly as his brown eyes could see it on paper.
* ~ * ~ *
Later that night, he enlisted Howie and Kevin’s aid and the trio locked themselves in the hotel’s piano bar after hours. Together they refined the song – adding the chords that provided the harmony, making necessary key changes before the bridge.
Several hours passed as they worked. Colorful fingers of sunlight stretched across the brightening sky. Kevin – on piano – and Howie, who had borrowed one of Dennis Gallo’s acoustic guitars, were playing the song through while A.J. listened for any sections that might need further tinkering.
The last notes echoed off the walls and A.J., his eyes closed, smiled. It was perfect. He opened his eyes once more and glanced between the faces of his friends and collaborators. "Guys, I can’t thank you enough."
Howie grinned, relieved that A.J.’s smile was so relaxed and genuine. "Anything we can do to help."
Kevin stifled a yawn. "Just next time, let’s have our brainstorming sessions during normal office hours," he said good-naturedly.
"You’re getting old, Kev," A.J. teased.
"No arguments here. I’m too tired." He stretched then glanced back at the composition in front of him. "It’s a great start. Now I know there are words floating around in that head of yours. I don’t want to hear how you searched for three years to find the right lyrics for ‘A.J.’s Solo’."
"J’s a natural at that anyway. Remember ‘If You Knew What I Knew’? It was a shame we couldn’t put that one on the album," Howie conceded.
A.J. sighed. "Actually, I don’t have lyrics yet."
"Damn, you know what that means, Kev?"
The eldest smiled. "He’s going to be humming the song for the rest of the tour – or until he finds the words."
Several days later, A.J. climbed aboard the bus after a concert whistling what had become an all too familiar tune to the rest of the Boys. "Dammit, Bone. Knock it off."
"Hmm?"
Brian peeked from behind his bunk curtain. "I’m hearing that song in my sleep. Please stop my torture!"
A.J. chuckled. "Sorry, can’t help it."
"Yeah, yeah. I’ll just be one happy man when you find the lyrics for that damn thing. Even Kevin wasn’t this bad with ‘Back to Your Heart’."
"I’m trying, I’m trying," he said stretching out in his own bunk. Sleep came easier since the days he put the melody on paper. No more strange woman asking for "her song." Strangely though, he felt a void since Jane Doe’s disappearance. He chalked it up as yet another occurrence he couldn’t explain. Sometimes he though he was the newest resident of the Twilight Zone or the latest star of an Alfred Hitchcock film.
A.J. dismissed the thoughts, cocooning himself in a
blanket and drifting off almost immediately.
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