Harmony Rediscovered: A Melody of Secrets and Second Chances (Camren)

Chapter 6: The Red Flags

A few red flags pop up during Lauren’s first week in LA.

The first red flag is the absence of an A&R person at the studio. She remains silent because she knows enough to realize she's not the one in charge here. Wiping her palms against her jeans, she attempts to erase the pulse of jealousy in her fingertips. Lauren wonders if she had stayed and played ball for another record, would she be able to do what Camila is doing now–is doing for her.

It’s a favor.

That makes something pulse in her fingertips, too. Lauren knows it’s only because Camila’s the person with the favor; the music industry is built on favors and lucky breaks.

Lauren hates that.

The second is the way Camila looks at her sometimes.

Camila’s relatively the same. She’s sharper, and she’s confident enough to mask any major doubts she might be having, her bumbling and rambling genuine but endearing, and she knows it. She wasn’t always aware, but some time between 15 and 19, a flip was switched, and Camila learned how to use her personality to her advantage. But her eyes are different, and when she looks at Lauren now, there’s a film over them, like she’s zoning out but not unfocused. Like she’s both here and not here at the same time. It’s disconcerting.

Lauren glances up from where she’s layering the notes for the bass and the guitar, and she finds Camila staring at her with that faraway look in her eyes. “What?” she asks, self-conscious.

“Nothing.” Camila blushes and looks down at the journal in her lap. “Sorry.”

She doesn’t sound very sorry.

The biggest flashing light directing Lauren to run in the opposite direction is how she can’t help the stupid laugh that bubbles out of her throat whenever Camila says anything resembling a joke. The way her body instinctively shifts, arm reaching out to steady Camila when she trips over an amp. Lauren likes the way Camila sings, eyes closed but hands still in her lap, a static energy, like she wants to move but has worked hard to unlearn the habit.

It’s easy to fall into old habits and old patterns.

She’s learned so much over the years, and she wants to believe she’s grown as a person. Still, she's watching the shape of Camila’s mouth when she sings, the wrinkle in her eyebrow when she focuses, and the way her tongue darts to wet the crease of her lips when she thinks Lauren can’t see her staring. It feels remarkably like knowing you’re about to make a colossal mistake–a mistake you’ve made many times before–and doing it anyway.

-

They find a melody they like before Lauren loosely strings together how she wants the song to sound.

She spends her nights listening to music Camila has recommended to her over the years, honing in on songs Camila associates with her parents and her roots. It’s an obvious choice, a retread of her earlier stuff when Latin music boomed on the radio, but Lauren still thinks it’s a good one. She fiddles with the notes, stacking the chords until it sounds right, the guitar setting off the keys just enough.

Camila has studio musicians coming in early next week to record, and Lauren feels the pressure pushing on her spine. She hardly sleeps, working and reworking the material she and Camila compile in the studio. A lot of the time, she ends up back at the original arrangement. But, she’s scared the musicians will do what’s on the page, and when she attempts to finalize the song, she might miss an obvious note change or uptick in tempo.

Lauren has always feared missing out on high school, parties, holidays, and mundane events like brunch, but the way it twists and manifests itself now is worse than she can ever remember it being.