Partway through, she stops us again to tell us that the camera crew has a request. “Can you two look at each other while you sing?”
I look at Riff sideways. He looks at me with a flat, sarcastic smile.
Take three, I look over at him multiple times during the first verse, and the whole time during the chorus, which is awkward AF, and I’m technically looking at his earlobe but I doubt the cameras can tell.
Honestly I can’t look at him directly right now because our pure, clean vocals blending together in my headphones (without the background noise of a real audience and the echo of bad outdoor acoustics) is too much for me. I thought our harmony did something to me at Coastal Hearts, but here it’s at full potency. That was a too-much-wine buzz; this is like a shot of vodka.
His voice resonates, tingling all my senses, and suddenly I’m singing with a yearning I can’t control. I want to think I hear the same ache coming from him too—the same desperation—but I’m either imagining it, or he’s doing what he does so well: acting.
“‘Now we’re so close and before I can blink,’” our voices weave, “‘it’s a whole different kind of lip sync. I just act—I don’t think, your lips on mine like the missing link.’”
Kehlani grins from the control room while the camera crew makes adjustments.
How close are they zooming in? What emotions are they catching on my face?
I can’t bring myself to smile when Riff sings his solo verses, but he’s doing a great job of singing right at me with confidence. On “I feel your energy deep in my bones,” his voice gets gravelly in the best way.
We do the chorus again and I try to lean into it, try not to think about how I’m coming off.
I’ll have to pass it off as part of the show we’re putting on. Surely that’s all anyone who doesn’t know better will think it is. Right?
We run different parts several more times, take after take after take, until Kehlani is satisfied. By the end, my voice is raw. Working with another artist always takes longer, and I suspect everyone is dragging it out for the cameras, too.
The only benefit to this torture is that, at this point, the lyrics to my song have lost all meaning. Like when you say the sameword so many times, it melts into its individual sounds and could be gibberish for all you care. I rub my eyes and finish my bottle of water that I’ve been sipping on for two hours.
But while the words themselves have lost meaning, their energy lingers.
Riff rakes his hands through his dark blond hair and I catch myself watching for a beat too long, remembering what it felt like to do thattohim. He glances up and I immediately turn away.
I have to get out of here.
Right in This Moment, This Order’s Tall
RIFF
Ourlimopullsupto the Desert Rose Beach Club in Malibu—an exclusive venue that ironically is not on the beach. It’s beachy in theme, I guess, with multiple pools that no one is swimming in, lounge chairs, cabanas, and a huge open paved area in the middle for performances. Today there’s a stage with a DJ set up there, and several freestanding vertical banners celebrating the Glo Radio Spring Session. Everything is decked out in their neon orange and pink color scheme.
All landscaped areas display some type of palm tree or tropical plants. The music has all the relaxed, sunny vibes you’d expect, resonating even at a distance.
Harmony looks past me through my window (I’m on the side closest to the entrance) and scowls. This event is the next big step in our dating stunt, and neither of us is looking forward to it.
It’s been over a week since we recorded “Lip Sync.” Producers are fast-tracking the release, but it’ll still be a couple more weeks, so in the meantime, the label has us teasing our fans whenever possible.
For example: Our PR teams tipped off paparazzi that we were recording and made sure we got caught leaving the studio building together. A few days later, they drove us into the city and dropped us off on Fairfax by the Original Farmer’s Market wearing hats and sunglasses, instructing us to do a full promenade past the stalls, carts, and through The Grove before they picked us up again on Third Street (to sell the illusion of trying to be incognito while also being obvious enough to turn some heads and inspire spontaneous photos). They’ve also had us post cryptic snippets on social media, like “Just finished recording and I can’t get that *harmony* out of my head,” or “Never expected a RIFF-off like this, but I’m not mad about it” along with reaction videos to uploaded clips from our Coastal Hearts performance, except we don’t say anything in them; instead, Harmony (as instructed) smiles like she “has a secret” while I do my signature “Grind My Gears” wink. We also “leaked” behind-the-scenes footage of our recording session.
The public response has already been outrageous, even though we’re just getting started.
An attendant opens my door and I step out, turn to Harmony, and offer my hand. She takes it and lets me guide her onto the walkway. A perfect little choreography that we practiced in advance, which does the trick because camera shutters click around us right away.
Harmony’s hair is all beach-wavy—something that is supposed to look like it happened naturally but probably took an hour or more to achieve—and she wears a linen sundress in a color Stefanie referred to as “saffron.” I’m not sure what’s on her face, but it shimmers, making her bronze skin tone look even more bronze. The breeze blows her scent at me and she smells like something floral.
God help me.
My stylist has me in an untucked Ralph Lauren chambray button-down (top two buttons open and sleeves rolled to my elbows so I don’t look stuffy), beige chinos, and leather loafers. And of course I’ve got a black Stetson on my head, “for contrast.”
This is an invite-only industry event, so we don’t have to worry about anyone getting too crazy about our arrival, but the second we walk into the midst of it all, something does shift in the surrounding air.
A few attendees in casual-business attire (sitting in tented lounge areas holding cocktails) glance in our direction and whisper when we pose along the step-and-repeat. Several brand reps and VIP creators let their conversations wane when we pass. Plenty of people don’t notice us at all, but the ones that do are smart enough to understand the “be cool” etiquette you’re supposed to have around famous people at these things.
