Zac's family went back to Tulsa on Sunday. Jessica's talent impressed Bill and Joe, but she refused to do anything about it. Zac knew why; Jess had never been interested in doing anything musically. She left that to her brothers.
It was a few weeks later; Zac's life had evened out to almost normal, although he was still recognized here and there when he went out with Gwen. It didn't matter to her, because she enjoyed the attention as his girlfriend almost more than he enjoyed the attention of being recognized. Now that his hours were completely regular, he and Gwen got to go out more often.
Zac arrived at the studio one morning to find that he was the first one there. He'd expected that; the band called him the night before and said to meet a half-hour later, but he knew if he left a half-hour later he'd be stuck in traffic all morning long, so he decided he could just be early.
He looked around the empty studio room and sighed. He hadn't been alone in one of these in a while, not since recording with his brothers months ago. That seemed like a lifetime ago�he'd gotten to so used to his new home with Gwen that living with his parents and his brothers seemed like years before. Pushing that aside, he turned on the lights and set everything up. His eyes, however, continued to drift back to the recording area. That microphone was something he missed more than he let anybody know. He missed playing for people and endlessly recording, take after take, until he was dead tired and his voice was going hoarse. He loved it. If only Taylor hadn't been such a bastard, and if only Zac hadn't been so stubborn, he wouldn't be working on other people's music and would have time to concentrate on his own.
He'd been writing a lot lately. Gwen didn't really seem to notice that he was doing it, mostly because he did it when she wasn't around, but he had songs pouring out that he didn't know what to do with. He usually wrote with his brothers, but since he hadn't spoken to either of them in months, he had to make do without them.
His eyes drifted, once again, back to the recording area. Looking around, he found he was still alone. After setting a few things up, he opened the door to the recording area and stepped inside. Closing the door behind him, he quickly walked to the music stand. He took in a deep breath and belted out the first thing that came to his mind, and in that moment, he was completely lost. Closing his eyes, the last few months went away and he was back in Tulsa with his brothers, before the whole Taylor thing, before he even met Ginger, when things were good in the world. His music came back, and he allowed himself to continue on, full voice, lungs filled and concentration solely on his notes and his words. His voice was dripping with the soul he'd never had a chance to showcase on a record, but everyone knew he had living somewhere inside of him.
On the shift from chorus to verse, he missed a note. "Ooh, sour note." He opened his eyes and Joe was standing in the recording area, by the door, watching. Zac jumped back, letting out a loud "Ahh!" of surprise. Looking around, he saw Bill and just about everybody else was already there.
"Make some fucking noise when you enter a room!" Zac said, immediately embarrassed.
"Bill dropped an amp on the way in, the whole studio heard!" Joe said. "You must have completely missed it. You were really, really gone."
"Yeah, whatever," Zac muttered. He began to walk to the door, where Joe was still standing.
"That was awesome, man. Was that recording?"
"�Yeah," Zac said. "I turned it on. I don't know why I did, but I did."
"Good, that's something you could probably use later on," Joe said. Zac gave him a questioning look. "Well if you sing like that every time, you could go solo."
"Whatever, Joe," Zac said, brushing past him and out of the recording area. The other producers and, surprisingly, Peter were there.
"He's right, you know," one of the other produces agreed. "You could go solo with that." Everyone else nodded.
"I'm not going solo, okay?" Zac yelled, surprising everyone in the room. "I like my job and I'm happy working on other people's material. I just needed it out of my system, all right? It's never going to happen again. All right?"
"Whatever, Zac," Bill said.
"Lighten up, Zac, we were just complimenting you," one of the producers said.
"Geez, Zac."
"Shut up," Zac said, and turned to Peter. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard Bill drop the amp and I thought I'd see if everything was okay. I just stayed because I heard you." Zac shook his head.
"I knew I shouldn't have done that," Zac muttered. "All right, we have a lot of work ahead of us today, we might as well get started. Give me that tape so I can destroy it and we shall never speak of this again." Someone handed Zac his recorded tape, but instead of throwing it away, he discreetly put it in his pocket.
"How was work today, sweetie?" Gwen asked when Zac came home that night. Zac sighed. He'd had a rough day. All of the producers couldn't stop talking about him and he couldn't stand it. As much as the thought of a solo career, being able to perform live and record his own music again, sounded interesting, he couldn't do it. He told himself he wouldn't do it. He was a part of Hanson, and if he wasn't in that band, he wasn't in any band at all.
"Terrible," Zac said. "All the producers kept pissing me off all day."
"I thought you were the producer," Gwen said, confused.
"I'm the top producer," Zac said. "They're all under me."
"Under you, eh?" she asked, putting her arms around his neck. "Not the way I'm under you, I hope."
"Since they're all men, yeah, I hope so too," Zac said, smiling. "I missed you today. All day all I kept doing was looking at the clock and counting down the minutes until I could see you again. Then traffic was a usual frosty bitch and I was so tempted to just leave the car there and walk home."
"You really missed me that much?" she asked. He nodded. It made her smile and she kissed him.
"I have something for you," he said, in between her kisses.
"Really?" she asked. "A present?"
"Well, sort of," he said. "Actually, no, not really." He pulled the tape out of his pocket and walked over to the entertainment system. "When I got there, nobody else was there so I turned on the recorder and did a little singing. I haven't gotten to hear it, but I figured you might like it. You're always telling me I should sing around you more often."
"You should! I love your voice. That's why I was so pissed off when you said you'd quit the band. I was afraid you'd never sing again!"
"I'm not," he said. "Not professionally, at least. This was just something I needed to get out of my system."
"Okay." She sat down and he put the tape in.
"I don't know how long it is; I just kind of started singing and at the end I missed a note and that's when I found out everybody was there and�"
"Shut up, you're starting," Gwen said. "Sit." He sat down next to her and draped his arm around her shoulders. He didn't have the headphones on when he sang so he couldn't hear himself as he sang, and he was surprised by what came out of the speakers. He understood now what the producers were talking about; he'd never heard himself sound so great. That was because he'd never been so completely lost, with nothing to lose or gain; he was just singing because he wanted to. He wasn't singing for an album, or to impress someone else (although Gwen was almost crying she loved it so much).
He timed it on his watch and he sang for about ten minutes, and he didn't even realize he'd sang two songs, connecting them in the middle. If he wanted to, and he definitely didn't want to, he could take this tape to any record executive in town and have himself a deal. If the tape ever got out, he'd have record executives calling and asking to have him sign a deal; he knew it. However, he refused to believe it.
"Baby, you've got the best voice I've ever heard," Gwen told him.
"No I don't," he said. The tape had ended with Zac yelling "Make some fucking noise when you enter a room!" Zac got up and took the tape out of the tape deck and threw it in the trash as he left the room.
"Whoa, whoa baby, what the hell are you doing?" Gwen asked. She got up off the couch and took the tape out of the trash.
"Leave it in there," Zac said. "If that thing gets out people are going to be hounding me left and right about it. It's bad enough Peter heard it."
"But, Zac, it's good!"
"Exactly," he said. "It is good. I don't want to do anything with it! If people hear that, they'll want me to do something with it. I'm happy with what I'm doing. I don't need to record anything for anybody."
"What about me?" Gwen asked.
"You can hear me sing anytime," he said. "You don't need anything recorded."
"It seems like it, you never sing for me!"
"Whatever, Gwen," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm hungry."
"I didn't make anything, so either make something for yourself or order a pizza," she said. "I was out all day."
"Where were you?"
"Shopping for a dress for the Grammy's."
"Did you find one?"
"Sort of," she said. "I went to all these different shops and I didn't find anything I liked, then just for kicks I went into a Roberto Cavalli shop to browse around�I wasn't going to buy anything�when I ran into the manager and we got to talking. I mentioned that I was looking for a dress for the Grammy's and that I was going with you. She took one long look at me and told me she was going to set up an appointment with me for a fitting and that they had just designed the 'perfect' dress for someone like me."
"Really? That's cool," he said.
"Have you thought about what you're wearing yet?"
"It's three months away, Gwen," he said.
"Still! You have to find something to wear! Or should I say, you have to find out who you're going to wear." Zac rolled his eyes. "No, I'm serious! It's very important who you decide to wear. You're going to be a big deal this year and you're going to be interviewed by everybody, so they're going to continually ask you who you're wearing, and if you look good, then that's lots of free publicity for the designer."
"Gwen, nobody's going to really care who I'm wearing," Zac said. "It's just a tux. There's not going to be a big fuss over my clothes. People will care about who you wear, but not me."
"You're hopeless, Zac. I haven't spent my entire life in fashion just for you to not care what you're wearing to an awards show. You do realize how many people are going to be watching," she said.
"I don't care, Gwen."
"Ugh! Well, I'm going to look hot, so do what you want and stay the hell away from me," she said, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. She walked out of the room, still talking. "I can't believe it; the biggest night in music and he doesn't care. You'd think he'd care, but no, he's a bastard and�"
"Who are you talking to?"
"Myself!"
"Ugh," Zac said, "I seriously need Lindsay out here."