I have the feeling that the team is delaying things. Paul is running down the clock, using every possible stalling tactic he can so we run out of time to recordStolen Moments.
“Let’s take five. I wanna hear the playback.”
I jump off the stool, sliding my headphones off and hanging them over the mic stand before heading up to the control room. My mood darkens with every step I take up the wooden staircase where so many of my idols have climbed, where I see the engineers and Paul standing alongside my A&R guy Nathan Watkins, who’s flown over from LA.
“Can you run that last take back for me,” I say as soon as I open the door, skipping the formalities or even a greeting for Nathan, who arrived only half an hour ago.
The engineer, who wouldn’t look out of place playing with the Strokes with his gaunt frame and long dark hair scraped back into a ponytail, pulls up the Logic file, hitting the space bar to kickstart it.
“Turn it up a little.”
He slides the volume up on the sound desk as I move over and sit down in one of the free chairs. I lean back and close my eyes, allowing the sound to wash over me. Of all the tracks I’ve recorded,Compare To Youis one of my favorites. Other songs have been more commercially successful, but this one was the game changer for me. And it was the first song I wrote after Samuel died.
My eyes well up at the thought of him.
When the track finishes, I rub my eyes and then open them, turning my attention to Paul and Nathan, who seem to be joined at the hip. Nathan takes a drag of his vape and then picks at the label on the empty plastic bottle in his hand.
“Sounds perfect to me. What’s the issue?” My forehead crinkles as I study them.
Nathan moves his hand to his nose, fiddling with it like he’s done one too many bumps. Discomfort is written across his aging face. For a forty-year-old, he looks closer to fifty.
Paul remains silent, letting Nathan lead the conversation.
“The vocals were slightly behind the musicians in the second verse,” Nathan says, averting his gaze. He looks over to the couch where Lucy and Connie are seated, working away on their laptops.
“Pull that up for me, will you?” I ask the engineer. I get up from the chair and move closer to the sound desk.
The engineer skips to one minute twelve, hitting the play button. I lean in next to the speaker, listening intently. I try to pick up on the delay Nathan is referring to, but I don’t hear what he’s talking about.
“Doesn’t sound out of time to me.” I turn back to face Nathan, crossing my arms over my chest.
What do they take me for, a fool?
Nathan gets fidgety, takes another drag on his vape and looks down at his sneakers.
“Paul?”
Clearly Nathan doesn’t want to be made to walk the plank for whatever is going on here, and he’s obviously following Paul’s command, who, once again, always has to be in control.
“I know you’ve got a better take in you,” Paul says. “Once this is out there, it will live online forever. You don’t want anything out there that’s less than perfect, right?” His eyes narrow, while speaking to me in a patronizing tone that grates on me like nails down a chalkboard. Like he thinks I’m still fourteen and unable to see through his manipulation.
Nathan chucks the plastic bottle at the bin but misses. He walks over to the bottle, picks it up, steps back a few feet, shoots… and misses once again.
Ugh.
I tap my foot on the floor while I wait for Nathan to pick up the bottle and place it in the bin properly. I feel my anger get bigger with every tap of my foot.
“Where are we at with the side agreement?”
“We’re still waiting for the label lawyers in LA to get back to us,” Paul says, pulling his phone from his pocket as if checking for an update.
I look at my watch. It’s 11:15 a.m. over there. At times like these, I’m glad I leave my watches on LA time.
“What’s the hold up? It’s been hours since we agreed to this.” I’m unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“These things take a moment, Alex,” Paul says, volleying it straight back at me. His voice is elevated, causing both Connie and Lucy to look up from their screens and the engineers to look away.
His words hit me right in the chest.
