Page 56 of Voice to Raise
I glared.
Reese laughed. “You know, I’ve been asking myself the same question. I’m wondering if it’s that guy from the television.”
I blew on my tea to cool it down. “What guy?”
“You remember that interview?” She waggled her eyebrows.
“He’s married and way too old.” The anchor was super adorable—if one was into silver foxes. Me? Blond guys with soft-green eyes—
Creed elbowed me. “You know she’s talking about that do-gooder. What was his name?” He snapped his fingers several times. “Oh, I remember. Spencer.” He drew the name out, emphasizing each syllable.
Heat raced to my cheeks. I prayed my dark skin would prevent my best friend from seeing how close to the mark he was.
Okay, bullseye. Dead center.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do you not?” Reese grinned. “Then what are the new lyrics in your notebook?”
“Hey!” I rolled my eyes. “Is there no such thing as privacy around here?”
My three bandmates burst out laughing.
“Uh, absolutely not.” Creed eyed Reese. “What kind of lyrics?”
I continued to glare.
She shrugged. “I was checking something out for our last song—the one Freddie’s not happy with.”
“Hey!” He glared.
“Just calling it as it is. We’ll get it sorted. We have time.” She sipped her energy drink. Then she pivoted her attention to me. “What lyrics? What melody? What are we working on now?”
“I just…” I scratched my chin. “Like…” I floundered.
Creed nudged my shin again.
“Yes, I’m sort of seeing that guy from the television. From the nonprofit. Yes, I’m writing an anthem for his organization that none of you are obliged to be part of. Yes, I’m trying to work out the lyrics, the melody, and the visuals in my head all at the same time.” Finally, after pushing all that out, I took a breath.
My best friend chuckled. “I knew you were dicking with someone.”
I rolled my eyes.
Freddie raised his hand. “Visuals?”
I nodded. “Like, cinematographically. The images. Whether we’re just doing a video or if, during our concert, we project something.”
“You mean like the holograph that Blade does?” He cocked his head, apparently intrigued.
Blade and Hellsbane made their first appearance at Rocktoberfest a few years ago and had broken onto the scene with a splash and their holograph of Blade singing.
“Well, I hadn’t been thinking of that. More of projections on a screen behind us. Like they’re from an old projector. I’d need to go culling archival footage—and gets lots of permissions—but I can see something like that, right? Against a screen?”
“Some venues might have a back wall we can use. Otherwise, we’d have to rent a screen.” Reese rubbed her fingers together, miming money. Like how much this was going to cost.
From the moment I quit the orchestra, I’d been very conscious of how much I spent. Maintaining a house this big took a lot of money—property taxes, repairs, electricity, gas, and other shit. Some of which I hadn’t had a clue about. My father’s lawyer had figured out most things for me and I could consult her when I needed to. For an astronomical fee. So I preferred to watch my bank balance carefully and not splurge. I might be twenty-seven with poor impulse control—sometimes—but I wasn’t ever going to risk losing this place. “We might be able to partner with a company. In the film industry? Give them a sponsorship or something? Use their logo in our promos?”
Freddie snickered. “You think some big film people are going to lend us equipment?”
