Free I'm Glad I Did by Cynthia Weil Page A

it all down.”
    And so we worked like that for the next hour. Lyrically and melodically, we took the song Luke and I had created and turned it into something better than I could have ever imagined. I learned as much from Dulcie Brown in that hour as I had from weeks of listening to the radio, eavesdropping outside the writers’ room and immersing myself in the records Bernie had lent me. I also realized how much a great singer brought to a song. I drank in her performance. I think I absorbed some of her soul. When we were finally done, I turned to her.
    â€œI have to ask you something,” I said. “But please feel free to say no if you’re not comfortable doing it. I’mrecording the demo on Friday night at nine o’clock. Will you sing the vocal?”
    Dulcie stood up. Even in her work clothes she was still so beautiful.
    â€œI would be honored,” she whispered. She leaned over. With her hands cradling my face, she kissed the top of my head. Then Sweet Dulcie Brown exited with her own head held high, looking as proud and fulfilled as if she were leaving the stage.
    THURSDAY DAWNED HOT AND humid, but I bounded out of the apartment, ready to take on the day. I made it into the office early so I’d have time to play over “I’m Glad I Did” at least a hundred times. At eleven o’clock, I called Luke and told him I wanted to stop by for a few minutes at lunch to play him a few changes I’d made to the lyrics.
    When I opened the door this time, his desk was much neater. Two sandwiches and two Cokes were set on paper-towel placemats.
    He stood up. “Hope you haven’t eaten. And that you like BLTs on whole wheat.”
    Of course I loved BLTs on whole wheat. If he’d gotten me peanut butter and pickle on pumpernickel, I would have loved that. The idea that he brought in lunch for me made my heart soar and my stomach rumble.
    â€œYes to both,” I answered. “I’d really like to get the work part out of the way, though. I’ll digest better if I know how you feel about the song now.”
    â€œLet’s hear it,” he replied as we both moved to the piano bench.
    I played and sang with every bit of soul I could muster. I was no Dulcie Brown, but I was better than I had been when I last sang it for Luke.
    When I was finished, he took a deep breath and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say,” he murmured. “It’s so much better now. It’s more real, more natural. Did you make these fixes?”
    â€œNo, Dulcie Brown did. When she sang it down, she made all these adjustments naturally.”
    â€œMaybe she should be our co-writer,” Luke suggested. “She took it to another level.”
    I nodded eagerly. “I felt the same way, but she insists that she doesn’t want a writing credit. She says she’s just showing us what we have. And she’s willing to sing on the demo.”
    â€œDamn, I wish I could be there.”
    â€œMe, too,” I said. “I’m scared I’ll screw it up somehow.”
    He rolled those green eyes. “If I thought that, I’d ask you to postpone it until I could be there. You know this song inside out. You’ll be fine. Now let’s eat, okay?”
    â€œI guess,” I mumbled, “but let me pay you for the sandwich.”
    â€œJJ, has anyone ever told you that you can be a pain?”
    â€œPretty much everyone,” I confessed.
    Only then did he smile for the first time since I’d walked in. I had to admit to myself, it was a big part of what I’d come for.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

    The next morning, I couldn’t wait to see the “Artists Looking for Songs” list. If there was anyone there who could sing “I’m Glad I Did,” I would finally be in the competition. And if someone recorded it, I would have accomplished my goal. I’d have proven Bernie right and Janny wrong. I’d be a real songwriter,