Page 37 of Voice to Raise
“Which you seem to have done.” He folded the wrapper and dropped it into the recycling bin by his desk. He snagged a water and took a long pull.
“Yeah, I’ve done all that. For better or for worse. But I’ve got to get more exposure. Razor Made is just some Canadian Indie rock band. We need more credentials, and followers, to get a spot at Rocktoberfest.”Please understand how important this is to me.
“And you plan to use your association with my organization to get you thatexposure?” He used air quotes.
I frowned. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. Our organization has been here for a long time, but suddenly you appear. At the same time, you need to be seen more.” He frowned. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the two things are related.”
I wanted to argue.
He was wrong, but I couldn’t find the words to refute his assertion. “Wow. You really don’t think highly of me.” Not what I really wanted to say—but good enough. “I should be going.”
“Malik—”
“What?” I hadn’t moved from the couch, but I had a plan to leave. I’d wish Bonnie well, grab a few autographed CDs from my SUV, take them—along with the canvas bag—to the café. Then I’d leave this part of town and not return for a while.
Yeah, that was the plan.
Yet, still I sat. Waiting for him to make another pronouncement from on high.
“Life is rarely simple. You want clicks and likes to boost your profile and to get you on the road to a recording contract. Is that about the state of affairs?”
I scratched my chin. “You make it sound like I’m a mercenary—out for all I can get.”
“Are you not? You’re using us.”
“Hey, that’s not fair.”
“Something can benot fairand correct at the same time.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“How about I compose an anthem? You can decide if it’s something you can use. I can make it a full band rock’n’roll, or I can do an acoustic guitar piece. Hell, for you, I’d even play the violin.” My playing would be a little rusty after two years of disuse, but I was capable of anything. The instrument would sing in my hands again. I’d find my long-lost love of the violin. For Spencer, I’d do anything.
“That’s very generous.” He cleared his throat. “And a lot to ask of you.”
“Composing and then recording the song is what I do for a living.” I gave him a wicked smile. “You know I’m capable.”
“I know there are many things you can do. Turns out, I’m slowly discovering them.” A frown marred his brow—like he didn’t want to admit I had talents beyond getting in trouble.
“Give me a shot—you’ve got nothing to lose.”
He eyed me. “I have plenty to lose. That said, you have something very special that I value—enthusiasm. Even if you’re here for all the wrong reasons, you know you want to help. Hell, I don’t understand why you’re here. The real reason, I mean.” He let out a long breath. “Yes, go ahead and write an anthem for us. I can’t guarantee we’ll use it and I also can’t pay you.”
My knee-jerk reaction was to challenge him. Not on the pay part—because I knew I was doing this for free. No, I wanted to challenge him on why I was here. Or rather, why he thought I was here. Still, I grinned. “Give me a couple of days.”
“Take as long as you like.” He rose.
I hesitated. I really didn’t want to leave. We’d had fun. Or at least I had. Still, he’d stood and, generally, that meant the other person was supposed to stand as well. For once, I did as I was expected.
Well, that might’ve been a huge exaggeration. Just, in this moment, I didn’t want to let go. Much as I’d felt at my parents’ funeral. Of wanting just one second more. To be a better person. To be who they wanted me to be.Why are you seeking his approval? You know you won’t get it, and you damn well don’t need it.I sought the truth in the words my inner voice was providing me but, in that moment, I felt only regret. So I rose and held out my hand. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Yeah. Great.” He grasped my hand.
An arc of electricity passed between the two of us. I felt it.
Judging by the widening of his pupils, he felt it too.
