Sing Your Pleasure. A.C. Arthur

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СКАЧАТЬ was a guitar player whom she hadn’t been introduced to yet but could see was already set up and touching the strings on his guitar in the soundproof isolation booth. She’d figured the music had already been digitally recorded by using a gobo panel to keep the sound from bleeding into the other microphones as she sang. But, of course, Akil knew what he was doing. She was sure he had as much control of each instrument channel at the mixing board as he planned to have of her and her voice.

      This is it, Charlene told herself, standing in the doorway of the studio. She must have spent the better part of four or five hours reading over the songs Akil had given her, practically memorizing the musical arrangements, the high notes, the lows, the climax of each song. And she was ready, she knew she was ready.

      With her bottled water in hand, she moved into the studio full of people, taking a deep breath before saying, “Good morning.”

      All eyes immediately turned to her and a small nip of fear touched her. Stamping it down, she smiled even brighter and walked right between the huddled group of men.

      “Good morning, sunshine,” Jason said in his always playful voice. Leaning forward, he kissed her on the cheek. “Somebody call the police. It has got to be a crime for someone to be as beautiful as you are this early in the morning.”

      Charlene chuckled. “One, eleven o’clock is not that early. And two, that was one weak-ass line.”

      Jason laughed right along with her. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re right. C’mon, let’s get started.”

      A tall guy with spiked raven-black hair and a touch of gold in front of his mouth reached out a bony arm toward her. He was dressed in jeans and a Pittsburgh Steelers jersey and she couldn’t help but smile. “If I’d known we were showing our teams I would have worn my Raiders shirt,” she said.

      His smile spread and she was thankful to see there was really only one gold tooth in his mouth and not a row full like some of the acts in the industry these days. Still, he looked young enough to be one of her students.

      “You got jokes,” he said. “You’re on the East Coast now. You can’t come in here with that West Coast nonsense.”

      “Whatever,” she said, letting him clasp her hand.

      “I’m Five,” he introduced himself.

      Charlene liked him instantly and knew they were going to work well together.

      “And I’m Seth. And that’s T-Rock on the bass. He’s going to be in the booth with you because his sound is crisper in there.”

      A shorter man with caramel-toned skin and green eyes stepped up to her then, pointing to the tall Caucasian guitarist she’d already noted in the isolation booth. She was about to take his offered hand when Akil interrupted.

      “If you’re all finished gaping over her like you’ve never seen a female before, we can get started.”

      His voice was like a blast of arctic air, chilling the room instantly and snapping her spine straight.

      “Let’s start with ‘Never Before Like This.’” He continued to bark orders and she watched as Five took his place, moving into the control room with Akil.

      Seth went to stand near the DAW, the digital audio workstation, which usually took the place of mixing consoles, recorders, synthesizers, samplers and sound-effects devices. She noted Akil still had a mixing console that he liked to control on his own. Seth was probably the backup he needed to complete the full sound. Meanwhile, Jason walked her over to the booth and attempted to help her with the headphones.

      “She knows how to do it, Jase,” Akil snapped. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to get done.”

      He was in his desired spot in the control room with what she could see was his game face on. He was all about business today. Whereas last night when she’d seen him in that very same position he’d looked, for just that short amount of time, human.

      “I’ve got it, Jason. Thanks.” Picking up the headphones, she moved to the stand, dropped her music down onto it and took her place in front of the mic.

      She liked this song a lot. Its tempo began slowly but then picked up with the verse. It was good old-fashioned R&B, just what she loved to sing. So if Mr. Superproducer was all about business this morning then she could be, too. She was going to sing this song and every other song he put in front of her like her very life depended on it. Because Akil Hutton was not going to beat her. Not here, not today.

      “Never like this before. No, never like this. I never loved like this. Never kissed like this. Never felt like this before.”

      This was the fifth time she’d sung this song, the fifth time he’d listened to her take the verse written on that song sheet apart only to put it back together in her own special way again.

      Her voice rocketed through the air, tore through the speakers and rubbed along the contours of his heart. It was strong, practiced, professional. She hit every note and then hit it again even better the next time around. His palms had begun to sweat, his pulse quickening with the music.

      They’d been at it for hours, stopped for about forty-five minutes for lunch, and went at it some more. She never faltered. He’d worked with a lot of artists in his time, had seen a lot of commercial acts. Females who could sing well enough in their church choir or in a talent contest and looked hotter than a house full of strippers. But they weren’t serious. He’d known it then, but he’d worked his magic, got enough recorded to make their CD one of the hottest out there. All the while knowing, deep down inside, they weren’t real singers. They didn’t have real talent. Sure, they were commercial and they were still selling lots of records, selling out concerts and making him and Playascape a boatload of money.

      But at the end of the day, at night when he lay down to sleep, he felt like a sellout.

      He wasn’t producing music anymore, he was making money. But now, listening to Charlene Quinn, he felt that old surge inside, that old feeling when he listened to such greats as Aretha and Ella, Gladys and Dionne. He felt like Charlene could be the one.

      “Let’s do it again and tape it this time. Get it right and you’re done for the night. We can remix after you’re gone.”

      He knew his tone was clipped, cold, distant. But that’s what it had to be. The way he needed it to stay. Or he’d lose more than just the chance to work with this new talent—he’d lose himself.

      Chapter Five

      “Okay, tell me what’s going on?” Jason asked Akil the moment they were alone in the sound booth. Seth and Five were working on remixing the track they’d just finished with Charlene in the live room and Serene had gone home for the day. Serene made some remark about getting Carlo here as soon as possible and Akil had made sure to correct her, just as he had last night.

      “No dieting. I want what she’s already got spruced up, build her image from there. Got it?”

      No, Serene didn’t get it and neither did he, that’s why Jason was questioning his partner and longtime friend now.

      “What? We’re making this CD. What do you think is going on?”

      “I think you’ve СКАЧАТЬ