Page 21 of Spark
RUBY
W hen I land on Kendrick’s bed following my flying leap through the air, something hard bonks my belly.
With a frown, I reach underneath me and discover the assailant is Kendrick’s lyrics notebook.
I’ve read it countless times, but not recently.
Not since our last songwriting session as a band, before the tour started.
Feeling excited to see what he’s added to it, I start flipping pages toward the back of the book.
“It’s an embarrassment of riches in here,” Kendrick says, peering into the minifridge.
“What are my options?” I ask, as I flip another page.
Kendrick isn’t normally a big contributor of lyrics in our band.
Kai, Savage, and I write those, while Kendrick and Titus contribute riffs and musical ideas.
But still, on occasion, Kendrick supplies some little snippet of a lyric or the seedling of an idea that knocks everyone’s socks off.
Or at least, inspires someone else to run with it.
As Kendrick is still listing my beverage options, I flip a new page and land on something that instantly makes me tune out his voice: a two-page set of lyrics, written in urgent, messy handwriting. I’ve never seen Kendrick write this many lyrics all at once, and I’m genuinely shocked.
My eyes drift to the top of the left-hand page—to the title. Kendrick’s handwriting is always hard to decipher for me. But here, it’s even harder than usual, which suggests these words must have poured out of his brain in a torrent his hand could barely keep up with.
“Skank.” That appears to be the title at the top of the page.
But then again, I’ve never heard Kendrick use that word in my life.
No, wait. “ Spank .” Yeah, I think that’s it.
Is spank a word Kendrick uses often? No, but I’ve definitely heard him calling masturbation “spanking the monkey,” so this song title makes a lot more sense.
I lower my eyes to the first line of Kendrick’s lyrics, eager to begin reading; but unfortunately, the rushed, jagged script is as hard to decipher as the title. Slowly, however, I’m able to make out the beginning line:
Lying awake, my body staging a coup
Can’t have?—
All of a sudden, before I can read another word, Kendrick yanks the journal away from me.
“Hey!” I shout, looking up at him. “Give it back. I just started reading something juicy.” When he shakes his head, I purr, “Come on. I just saw a two-pager called ‘Spank,’ you naughty boy, and I’m dying to know what that’s all about. ”
Kendrick blushes. “There’s some personal stuff in here.”
I cock my head. “In your lyrics journal?” That’s new.
“Is ‘Spank’ the personal thing you don’t want me seeing, you naughty, horny boy?
” When he says nothing, I snicker and ask, “Is it about spanking your monkey or spanking someone’s ass?
” When he doesn’t reply again, I reposition myself on the bed and sit up.
“Look, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, okay?
I’ve let you read some of my most honest and vulnerable lyrics. I won’t judge you. I promise.”
“It’s not that it’s honest or vulnerable. It’s just stupid. It was a creative writing exercise. A ‘what if.’ There’s nothing true or honest about it. Not a single thing.”
That only makes me want to read it, all the more. Especially because Kendrick always lets me and everyone else in the band read everything in his lyrics notebook, no matter what it is, and we all do the same for him. That’s our way. Our songwriting process. So, why is he acting so weird now?
“All the more reason to let me read it,” I insist. But when he doesn’t budge, I add, “I didn’t realize you’d started writing personal stuff, or I never would have opened it without your permission. I’m sorry.”
Kendrick sighs. “It was dumb of me to put something personal in here. I had insomnia one night, so I opened my notebook, and, all of a sudden, words just started pouring out of me, like I was in a trance.”
“Isn’t that the best? I love it when that happens.”
“It was a first for me. Super weird. Cool, though.”
“Put that down and come lie down with me. Let’s get you some good sleep.”
Kendrick motions to the fridge. “What about the cocktails?”
“The moment’s passed. Let’s crash.”
Kendrick looks at me suspiciously. “In your room, then.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“No.”
I laugh. He’s a smart man. Obviously, I want to respect Kendrick’s surprising request for privacy.
But also, everything about Kendrick’s body language is making me rabidly curious to read those damned words.
Spank. My god, that’s a sexy title. Is it filled with graphic, sexual confessions about how he likes to spank a woman’s ass while fucking her?
I’m dying to know. Especially after that kiss .
Just thinking about it is causing every nerve ending in my body to zip and zap, the same way it did when Kendrick deepened our kiss. Holy fuck, that was hot.
“Ruby?” Kendrick says, jolting me back to the present. He motions toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna pee, grab my pajamas and a toothbrush, and then we’ll go. Okay?”
Dang it. Sounds like I’m not going to get the chance to satisfy my curiosity tonight. “Okay, yeah. Whatever will make you feel most relaxed and comfortable for your sleep therapy, birthday boy, that’s what we’ll do.”