This could be very bad for me. It was okay working late, they all knew I had done that, but I had returned to the office after hours. I’d switched on all the lights, tied up the work, then opened the studio and ran myself a session. How was I going to explain that? But things are already moving forward. I have to keep up; any minute now, they’re going to find out about my midnight singing, and I need to be ready.
‘Does anyone know exactly what’s missing?’ Jeff says, glancing around the studio, puzzled.
Marco sighs. ‘Mainly stuff from Betsy’s office. That’s where all the finalised audition tapes were. All on one SD card. And there were a couple of Heritage guitars. None of the mixing equipment. There are other bits and pieces of recordings, but nothing’s organised. You’d have to listen to two weeks of duds to make any sense of it.’ He flicks a case on the desk. ‘Not logged, but…’
‘I can do all that,’ I offer. ‘I can listen and log. I can probably remember some of the comments.’
‘Well,’ Jeff says, ‘that’s a plus. I thought the girl with the tattoos yesterday was good. Liked her style. She was singing a Madonna song.’
Marco pushes a tape idly into the deck.
‘And I’m pretty sure there was a girl on Monday,’ Terry pipes up. ‘Hmm.’ He looks thoughtful. ‘Could have been Wednesday? Taylor Swift number.’
Both men shake their heads. From my stint of logging the auditions, I remember there were a lot of Taylor Swift numbers. That’s not going to help narrow things down.
It’s going to be difficult to piece together every person that auditioned. This is a nightmare. I feel myself flush guiltily. It’s all my fault. I was the last one in here. I must have left the door open. Luckily, no one has any idea about this. No one will know until they watch the CCTV footage. At the thought of them watching the footage, my body breaks out into a hot flush. My whole being flares as hot as an Olympic torch. It’s at this exact moment that Marco glances over at me. Attention is the last thing I need. I turn my back on him and pretend to be looking at a clipboard.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks, and it genuinely sounds as if he’s concerned.
‘Yes,’ I say with a brightness I am clearly not feeling. ‘It’s just… I should get on with this.’
‘Well,’ Fitz says, with an equal brightness, only hers seems genuine. Not surprising since Fitz didn’t bugger up two weeks’ worth of auditions, so I guess she can afford the jaunty tone. ‘Looks like you’ve all got your little old plans sorted, so…’ She snakes an arm around Marco’s waist.
Suddenly, my heart sinks and this time it’s not the proximity of this glorious goddess to a man I would so love to attach myself to. No, this time, the sinking heart has a much more tangible target; a familiar melody blasts through the speakers, a Donna Summer track, and a shiver runs down my spine. I know that song. I recorded a version of it just yesterday. The intro plays out slowly. It’s probably not my recording, I think. There’s no need to panic. I’d used someone else’s soundtrack. But horror of horror, my knees falter as my voice echoes out from the speakers, soft and clear, right on note, every decibel mine. I would love for the floor to just swallow me right then and there without a trace. But, since there’s no earthquake on the horizon, I lunge towards the sound deck, desperate to remove the thing.
‘I think that’s a…’ I feel the colour rising in my cheeks. My face is so hot it’s practically sizzling. My fingers reach out, inches from the stop button.
‘Hey.’ Marco grabs my hand. His eyes widen, and for one earth-stopping moment, his deep brown eyes gaze into mine.
Irritated, Fitz rocks forward onto the balls of her toes. ‘Marco?’ she whines.
‘Shh,’ he says sharply.
Hands out defensively, as if warding me off, he lets the track play on, staring at the speakers in something like wonder. I freeze in place, panic, and a curious sense of exhilaration wars inside me. Actually, I sound okay.
When the whole thing has played through, there’s absolute silence in the office. Silence until Marco raps one hand in a sharp trill across the reception counter. ‘Did you all hear that? Did you hear that amazing voice?’ His eyes are shining in ecstasy.
I swallow hard, struggling to keep my expression neutral. ‘I… it was lovely, yes,’ I say in my smallest voice ever, in case they recognise it from the track that’s just been blaring on all speakers through the studio. ‘Very talented.’
‘Wow,’ Jeff says.
Terry smiles. ‘That there, that’s our winner.’
‘Was that just…’ Betsy appears in her doorway. ‘Who was that?’
‘I liked it,’ Fitz says with a shrug. ‘Definitely, I’d say we go with that one. She was lovely.’
‘Lovely?’ Marco scoffs. ‘That was transcendent. Angelic. Perfection given form.’
Fitz rolls her eyes once again as if to say he’s always so over the top.
‘Well?’ Marco barks.
Everyone looks blank.
‘Come on, who is she? What day was she in? A voice like that, someone must remember.’
Everyone looks blank.
