Outbound Plane Chapter 4 – Songcraft

A/N To give proper credit, Stronger Than Me is by Kate York & Sarah Buxton, You're So Vain - Carley Simon and A Life That's Good - Sarah Siskind & Ashley Monroe. Many thanks to y'all for clicking through.

"You utter bastard!"

For the second time in as many days Deacon Claybourne watched his lyric sheet being thrown down onto Rayna's dining table. Without the luxury of a printer in his hotel room he'd written this fair copy out longhand. Actually he had composed the whole thing analogue in his note book, crossings outs, doodles, barley legible substitute words and all

Oh, here I go again
Walking the line killing time between my sins

It was called 'Stronger Than Me" and he was proud of it. Rayna continued to berate: "You've taken my story and turned it into bare entertainment. The only reason why this lyric has not gone directly in the garbage is because it is too darn good to throw."

"Oh, so do you like it?"

"You used me Deacon."

"Nope, I took the themes of what you told me and reimagined them. The lover is leaving, so the singer drinks, not the other way around. Three chords and the truth remember?"

"Yeah, it always was a stupid expression, especially when it comes to bite you in the ass."

"Well excuse me, I just didn't think you would be that vain Rayna." That peaked her, exactly as he hoped it would. If she was angry about a bad pun, then she would not examine quite how close to the wind his lyrics really sailed.

"Huh? Trying to test me out now are you? Well I've got news for you, AM radio managed to get over the Mason Dixie Line years ago. She picked up her guitar and strummed the rhythm.

"You walked in to the party, like you were walking on board a yacht…."

Deacon's voice overrode hers half way through the verse.

"And all the girls dreamed they'd be my partner…. And I'm so vain I prob'ly think this song is about me!"

They dissolved into giggles. Deacon held up his hand. "Nostay pissed Ray, it's kind of cute." He lent over the table and hit record on her old portable 4 track. "From the top please Miss Jaymes." They did it in one take, any more and it would not have worked half as well. Once the machine was turned off Rayna said, "Watty's sure going to love that."

"I may need to persuade Bucky to make that the lead track on the album."

"So these lyrics right?"

"Yeah"

"We'd better find a tune for them."

"Mmmm."

"In my head I hear steel." She picked up the dobro from where it had lain undisturbed since yesterday and sat on her couch. The first note bent in the air, causing Deacon to catch his breath. Whatever corny cliché he had been expecting was crushed by the beauty of Rayna's expert playing. The modern soft furnishings of the room seemed at odds, when set against what Deacon felt was a raw, old world sound; and the pain of his lyric's protagonist ricocheted into his gut. Rayna flowed through a run of simple notes, repeated them, then played the progression with a minor variation. After four cycles of this she called out, "I need rhythm."

Deacon moved towards an electric keyboard, that he did not recall being on display yesterday. "No!" she yelled, and stopped playing, "This is not a piano song. Can you reallynot play any guitar?"

Ten minutes later she gave an exasperated sigh "OK, so you weren't being modest about your musicianship, or total lack of."
"I told you Ray when I hit A major on the keyboard I get a recognised sound, when I do it on guitar I get 'merph.'"

"But A is practically the simplest chord in the book. Daphne got it at 10."

Deacon looked down at the guitar he was awkwardly holding. It was baby pink. "Then pull her out of math class and get her over here quick." He saw a flick jerk through her and wondered if he'd gone too far.

"Oh no, you don't get away with it that easy. Let's try again. Here, here and here. Push that pinkie up more." She found herself manipulating his left hand with her right, then pressing down hard so the string cut into his pad, "Now strum…. Yeah, that's got it, now keep doing that and don't move a freeking muscle on the guitar neck." She ran back to the dobro, played the intro and began to vamp a verse. Was it relief that caused electricity to buzz through her, or something else?"

"Change - E" she called out automatically

Something in Deacon's mind took him back to his early teens and Cy's bedroom. Muscle memory flared in his fingers, and after a bump he made the change. They were off and running.

By a quarter to late lunch Rayna had recorded a rhythm part and tracked her steel on top, Deacon adding slap percussion, beat out on his knees. Now they were ready for a vocal. Deacon hadn't cut demos in such a primitive set up in more than a decade. Cy had his own state of the art home studio, and over the years their writing partnership had morphed from face to face, to each often working individually on the others sketches; home, and hermetically sealed alone. Far more Elton and Bernie than the early years John and Paul. The days of knocking together a song across a string of identical Holiday Inn twin rooms were long passed. Cy embracing the full rock and roll lifestyle, Deacon always doing media work. Writing this way with Rayna was for him a liberation. She had been open to suggestions on how to develop her bridge, and in return had sharpened up a couple of lyric lines he had not been totally happy with. It was a true two-way collaboration.

Even for a rehearsal Deacon always preferred singing while standing up and was soon into the groove. There were parts of the song they both felt demanded subtle, ghosting harmony vocal so Rayna stood beside him, sharing the single microphone. Deacon was lost in the song, riding the waves of guitar and letting them pull him where they willed. Without realising, his left arm came out and wrapped around the body next to him, just as he would a band-mate on stage. Rayna reciprocated and their faces drew closer together for the final verse. When Deacon opened his eyes at the end of the guitar outro he literally jumped back from her proximity, as if stung by static.

"What the hell just happened?"
"Not sure," Rayna replied, "But it was good. Let's check the playback."

"And the… other?"

"I'll get back to you on that one, once I'm satisfied we have the song licked." They both knew they had it, but she needed breathing space to process. Deacon close up, in the flesh, was like a mirror universe edition of the public figure. There were creases and blemishes on his face, normally edited out by airbrush art and his hair was not so tidy in real life. But the ordinariness of this made him more real. No magazine cover or album artwork could ever convey the musk of his fragrance or the delicate, but purposeful fall of his grip.

She played the track back. "Sweet," said Deacon.

"As," she responded, then sang again, "I act like I don't know, where this road will go."

One more he harmonised with her, their dynamic was like nothing he had encountered professionally before. When The 'Kings used female backing singers on arena tours it was to fill out the sound; and the girls were employed as much for their looks as their singing abilities. Rayna was different, feisty, honest, homespun and flawed. She was three chords and the truth.

'The road' went directly to a kiss. Any fears Deacon had that she was doing this simply because of his status, or even worse felt pressured into responding were instantly dispelled. His fingers begun to explore the contours of her back and neck, brushing themselves through the soft folds of her distinctive hair. She lifted one leg, more of her bare thigh coming away from the hem of her dress as she rubbed it against his denim and felt the point in his crotch. The nervous tension that had been pumping through her for the last two days, fear of failure, star struck awe and yes, physical attraction, earthed. She was panting now, her stomach dropping and skin tingling.

"Shall we babe? I promise I'm good if you are." He had to ask to be sure. It was something Bucky had drilled into him years back, not least to protect his reputation and standing; and at this moment he hated the necessity of it.

Rayna pulled herself back from her personal edge. Deacon Claybourne had just asked her if she wanted to have sex with him, and her bedroom was a pigsty. She wasn't interested in the glory of laying a rock star, she wanted to entwine with the man who'd listen to her story, not judged her, or patronised her; but had taken her emotions and against all odds and common sense, but with a little bit of tweaking on her side; had built a piece of art that could stand on its own two feet from it. To answer his question she dropped to her knees and pulled at the stiff, pungent leather of his belt.

They never got as far as her bedroom and found themselves washed up on her living room floor, salty, spent, sore and embarrassed.

"Tell me that didn't just happen," breathed Rayna. "No, that came out all wrong, actually tell me it did."

"'Sallright, I know what you mean," Deacon reassured her, "at least I think I do."

Rayna sat up, "I'm starving. Spaghetti from a can fine for you? Y'all must know how hospitable us folks in the South are!"

"Spaghetti's good. I can work with that."

"I warn you there is a genuine danger I may burn the toast."

"Well that's just a risk I will just have to take."

With coffee drunk Rayna wanted to get the guitar out and crack on with work. Except that it was Deacon's head lying in her lap and not her acoustic. The doleful look from his upturned eyes caused her heart to melt and work feel less imperative. Then when he did eventually move it was to plant soft, wet, squishy noised kisses on her neck, which travelled the v-line of her dress to her breasts and rapidly hardening nipples. Work could go hang.

"Deacon, this really isn't helping," She said eventually.

"'S helping me. I'm a lost at sea man remember, you're purpose is to get me back to the shore. A ray of light from my personal Rayna lighthouse." For a moment it almost made sense to her. She pushed him off and reclaimed her guitar. Deacon slouched back across the couch, his legs dangling over the edge and closed his eyes. "I'm done singing today. But you play and I'll see if it sparks anything for me. Anything musical."

She ran through some numbers, and just when she thought he'd dropped off to sleep he abruptly sat up and asked if she'd write out the lyrics to the song she'd just played called 'Changing Ground.' "Not one I've heard before," he said airily, "who wrote it, Hank Nelson or Willie Cash?"

"No," she replied keeping her voice neutral, "I did."

"Bucky would definitely call that one a potential hit."

"So did Watty, but no one in this town wanted to give a pre-teen novelty act a second chance. It does go down well at The Bluebird writers' rounds though."

"I can't believe it. How come no one has asked to record it?"
"Dunno, scared to ask maybe?"

"Could I then? We'll have co-writes on this album for sure, but I think it would be good for your profile to have a fully original Rayna Jaymes song on the record too."

"Deacon, are you doing this outa pity? Cos I don't need that, not for all the good will dollars you think you will be throwing my way."

"It's not like that Ray, I think this is a strong song, really I do. Let me work it up and if you don't like my interpretation you can veto it."

She acquiesced, and then saw the time. "Fuck. I've got meeting tonight, and after this afternoon I'm a total mess. Sorry babe, but it's 'Lights Out' big boy."

"A meeting? Oh you mean…"

"Yes Deacon a meeting and if I skip one I never trust myself to stay on the tight-rope."

"I could stay here if you like? Cook us some supper for when you get back. I'll ring Bucky now, he's very, er understanding about his artists' needs."

She showered, finally sorted out her bedroom, a bit, and came back in jeans, red top and leather jacket to fend off the external October evening. It was dusk by the time she drove away. After he'd waved her off Deacon carefully put her guitar back on its stand, tuned on a side light and then , on impulse, the flicker of her flame effect fire, but without any heat radiating from it. He opened a window, for a country girl Rayna kept the place too stuffy for his taste, maybe she liked being cocooned in her own space. Rayna lived in an area that was in a quiet enough spot for Deacon to still hear the evening song of birds. He sat back, closed his eyes, and let his mind wander.

An oblong of yellow light was extinguished as the municipal door shut behind Rayna and her companion. As they walked out into the gathering night the two women were thrown into near monochrome by the sidewalk glare.

"Do you have to shoot back Sandra?" Rayna's friend stopped, dithered and looked at her watch. "I've got news." Rayna continued.

"Well why didn't you say honey? Lets go in here."

Sandra was one of the regulars at Rayna's AA group, and while what was said in the meeting hall, stayed in the meeting hall; the two had also forged a genuine friendship. There were after all enough other things in the world for two women of their age to talk about; like shoes, or films, or celebrity gossip or the train-wrecks of their love lives. They entered a brightly lit bar, busy enough for privacy, quiet enough for quick service. Rayna scouted for a table, Sandra went to order the necessary. It always gave Rayna a thrill to know she could walk into any bar she chose and leave sober now, like she was kicking her disease in the mouth, or somewhere more personal. If she was going to keep playing music in public she knew she had to deal with other people drinking around her; so she had found a way to detach. Every drink down another customer's throat was not one down hers.

"So, I've been seeing someone," she told the glass of orange, now in front of her, unwilling to make eye contact with her friend.

"That's fantastic, Who? When? Where? And why are you only telling me now?"

"It's only being going for two dates."

"I see."
"Like, since yesterday."
"I seeeeeee. This guy must be pretty special"

"Oh he is, He's… down form NY on business, and it's all been a bit of a rush."

"Obviously."

"Thing is, for the second date we went a bit further than I was expecting. Well a lot further, the whole way in fact."

Sandra nearly spat out her Virgin Mary, "Rayna Louise Jaymes you mean to tell me you…"

"Did the S word on a second date. Is that awful, will I be forever dammed?"

"When was this?"
"About six hours ago, and then again about four and a half. He's still at my place now."

"Then why the hell are you here girl?"

Rayan looked around the bright, in ya face bar, light years and another lifetime from the spit and sawdust she had left Vince standing outside. Not so long ago a place like this would have been her ruin, now she could take it in her stride, take it or leave it. She was less certain she could do the same with Deacon.

"Because it's got to stop before it gets serious. I'm having a mad fling right now, best fun I've had with a guy in years. But this man, he's got comments in New York, and pretty soon he will fly back and forget all about me. If I get burned, the whole house of cards could come tumbling down."

Sandra took her time before responding. "You know, for a moment there, ya almost convinced yourself with that."

He had investigated her cupboards and food supply all the way from A to B, and had chicken and nachos ready to go when she banged the door open, later than he expected. He wanted to bawl her for that, until he remembered he was the gust in her house. There was however a fresh sheet of writing paper on the dining table, that she at stopped to look over.

"Chord instructions – I'm impressed."
"Yeah, when they sounded wrong I used some of those funny black notes until it came good." He was smiling, grinning, a heartbeat away from letting his dryness drop. "I gotta tune for it too, up here," he pointed to his head, "hoping you can add a few fancy guitar twiddles to the arrangement."

"Sitting here tonight – by the fire light."

Rayna felt her pent up emotions ease, then wash in with a new tingle. "Well, Mr Claybourne , we might just make a country artist of you yet."

A/N 2 Sep '23. This is as far as I had planned. I won't mark the story as complete because I may come back to it. But there will not be any updates in the near future.