“R-really?” Not a fucking chance.
“Really, really!” I put the safety on the gun as a sign of good faith.
The fucking moron downed the drink like his life depended on it. Dumb ass.
Chapter seventeen
Seek and Ye Shall Find
Jestiny
Iwas listening to the engineer, Loïc and Simon debate about the right amount of reverb and autotune. I was in the sound booth, my hands on the music stand, staring at a blank piece of paper. The microphone and pop filter was six inches in front of my face, daring me to actually record something.
Once they started talking about different brands of microphones, I was done. More studio time wasted, not recording a damn thing.
Where had Chris gone? I needed him.
“If she doesn’t get an album out in the next six months, then we’re all in for it!” Simon finally said, throwing something across the room. It was probably a stack of books from the table.
That was rich, coming from Simon. After all, he was half the reason I was in this mess. He vetoed any decision that wasn’t his, or any idea that didn’t come from his dense head. All he cared about was getting things donehisway, under his terms, and had fought the team at every fucking turn. I wanted to fire him, I really did. But I didn’t have the power to.
They didn’t know the light was on. The one that indicated that I, the person in the sound booth, could hear them.
“If she pushes out something that is bad,” Loïc said, in an infuriating tone of condescension, “then it doesn’t matter. It will flop anyway.”
“What is your point?” Was Simon sweating? He looked like he was sweating.
“That it must be done on time, and well!” Loïc said, his arms flapping wildly.
We were all feeling the pressure. Everything threatened our jobs at this point.
Where had Jareth gone? Why weren’t they here right now when I needed them so badly? Loïc and Simon were going back and forth, back and forth, squawking and squabbling. I’m sure they regretted being assigned to me. They hitched their wagon to the wrong shooting star, and they had nothing to show for it.
“Can we just… try something else?” I asked into the microphone.
“Like what, Jes?” the sound engineer said. I couldn’t remember his name. Colby? Something like that.
“Can I get on the piano?”
“Yeah, sure.” He pressed some buttons, probably turning off the mic I was on, and turning on the one above the little Yamaha upright against the wall.
I sat at the piano bench, my hands between my thighs as I rocked back and forth, feeling the squeak of the lazy, worn-out wooden legs.
“Now what?” Simon asked, rolling his eyes. “What brilliance is supposed to happen now?”
“In case you don’t know,” I said, into the mic, “I can still hear you.”
The sound from their squabble cut off, and I was left in the deafening silence of the booth. The engineer placed a thumb and forefinger over the bridge of his nose, as Loïc and Simon argued back and forth. But at least I couldn’t hear them now.
I didn’t know if they were recording. I didn’t really care. I just needed to do something other than twiddling my thumbs while some old men squabbled about a career that wasn’t even theirs to begin with.
I played the bass chords that Chris had played the night before. His version of the song we had given new life to in the middle of the night.
My album wouldn’t have covers, but maybe this would make them change their mind? Maybe my team would stop bickering and help me get something on the album I could actually be proud of. Something that wouldn’t label me as some hack.
“There’s a saying old says that love is blind,” I sang, as my left hand tried to recreate Chris’s magic from before. “Still we’re often told, seek and ye shall find…”
After a few bars, I disappeared into the song, the melody, the longing. I let myself fall into the yearning for a handsome man with eyes the color of emeralds. I let myself get lost in wanting the man who called me a little Songbird.