I keep my mouth shut as I watch him reply.
The blond looks at me with a friendly smile. "I'm Sydney."
"I'm Franco. It's nice to meet you."
She finger spells something to Ridge.
"Franco?" Ridge says apprehensively, like he's trying it out to make sure he's saying it correctly.
Sydney smiles and nods.
"Sorry, names are hard to lip read sometimes. It's nice to meet you, Franco. I'm Ridge." His enunciation is surprisingly clear for someone who can't hear.
I shake my head and smile. "No worries. It's nice to meet you. You're incredible, dude. It was an honor to eavesdrop on your session."
Ridge nods and the smile that looks like it's probably a permanent fixture widens. "Thank you. We have a lot of work to do, but it's getting there."
"Are you a solo act, or are you part of a band?" I ask. It doesn't matter which, this guy just needs to make music regardless.
"I'm in a band with my brother, Sounds of Cedar, and I play a little on my own too."
"Awesome, I'll check you out. I wish you all the best." I extend my hand again and he shakes it. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but thanks for taking a few minutes out to talk."
"Thank you. Do you play guitar?" Ridge asks.
I shake my head. "Nope. Just admire those who can."
Ridge nods to accept the compliment.
"Take it easy, Ridge. Sydney."
"You, too," they say in unison.
"Later, MFDM. I'm gonna look for Gus's hoodie in the booths and then I'm out."
"Franco, do you have plans? Think you could hang out for a few hours and help me out? Jake's gone home, family emergency, his daughter fell off the swings at the park and they think she broke her arm." Jake owns the recording studio. And though MFDM can handle most everything on his own, especially when he's working with a full band and has extra sets of eyes, ears, and hands, working one on one with an artist is more difficult.
"Sure. I can stay." I love performing, but the technical side of making music has always interested me. MFDM encouraged Gus and I to get much more hands on with the album we just finished and we enjoyed it. I think MFDM did too. He's a quiet, serious guy, the opposite of Gus and I, but the contrast works. "You missed me, didn't you, you big softy?"
"I need help is all," he corrects with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"It's okay, stop, you're making me misty." I swipe at non-existent tears just to rile him up.
He shakes his head. "Go find Gus's hoodie and then come back in here and we'll run through Ridge's tracks we recorded this morning."
I find Gus's beloved hoodie balled up on the floor in one of the booths. I take a photo of it looking pathetic and unloved before I pick it up and text it to Gus along with, This is fucking disgraceful, to shame him.
He replies immediately, Word. Finder's fee is my undying appreciation—that shit's for life.
And it opens up banter. What if I'd rather have beer?
Gus: Beer is a half-assed replacement for my gratitude. My feelings are hurt. But ok.
My mission accomplished, I return to the booth.
It's different listening to music critically that isn't your own in the studio. Different perspective, when you remove personal attachment and investment. But equally intense process because I want to see this guy, Ridge, succeed and put out the best songs he can. I'm one of those people who wishes success for everyone, no matter what they do, because life isn't a competition. It doesn't require that one person lose because another one wins. We can all win.
Six hours later, I'm walking to my truck to head home and pull my phone from my pocket to check it. There's a text from Gemma. It reads simply, Goodbye, with a YouTube attachment. I hit play before I start the engine. The song is called "Goodbye Los Angeles" by Future Husbands. I've never heard of the band or the song and maybe that's one of the reasons it punches me in the face unexpectedly. The woman's voice is brilliant and the lyrics are eerily fitting...
Goodbye Los Angeles, I've had the time of my life
Farewell dear Sunset Strip, Goodbye to Hollywood lights
Hey La Cienega, Guess I'll be seeing ya, but not tonight
I've got to hop a plane, drag myself back to them, it's not alright
They say home is where the heart is
I'm leaving mine with you
Goodbye Los Angeles, seems like it happened so fast
One day we fell in love, I moved in but it couldn't last
The odds were against us, we tried but it turned to dust and slipped from our grasp
Would I do it all again if I knew that it would end? Please don't ask
They say home is where the heart is
I'm leaving mine with you
Goodbye Los Angeles, I've had the time of my life
Farewell my friends, you know I couldn't forget if I tried
Hollywood Boulevard, I'll miss you and all your stars they shine so bright
Now I've got to hop a plane, swear I'll be back again, it's gonna be alright
They say home is where the heart is
I'm leaving mine with you
I'm leaving mine with you
I probably listened to the song fifty times on the drive home to San Diego. And I smiled the entire time. Because Gemma has the power to make that happen.
Sunday, January 28th
(Franco)
Day one post-Gemma.
I didn't think it would be this...
Hard.
It's weird.
I can't stop thinking about her.
I'm not obsessing.
It's just that I'll see something or hear something and it reminds me of her. Or I think of something funny, and pick up my phone to text it to her. And then I remember that she's gone. And that the phone number is probably out of service because she won't need it anymore.
I'm a realistic dude, I knew our time together was temporary. But there aren't that many people you meet who are instantaneously woven into the fabric of your life like they were always meant to be there. Sex aside, which was mind-blowing, I genuinely miss her friendship. A ten-day bond that felt more like ten years strong.