“Let’s try it. We can always take it out. Maybe let’s try it on the second verse.”
Raine hadn’t felt this excited about a song since…maybe ever. Maybe the first time she’d been in a recording studio and saw what they could do to her simple compositions to make them communicate the mixed emotions, the rage she’d been trying to let out. “Should we maybe…try shaping the tune?”
“Yeah. And…I don’t want this to be perfect. It shouldn’t be perfect.”
Raine tilted her head. “What do you mean exactly?”
“If we keep those imperfections in the song, it’ll hit even harder—like not editing out your inhales or times when your voice sounds thinner or weaker. That will make this song more raw. I want your fans to feel everything you’re giving them—so no filler, no editing out everything. When they listen to this song on the album, they need to feel like you’re standing right in front of them bleeding.”
They spent hours working on the music, working toward a shared vision and, as the time flew by, Raine felt the strangest thing.
For the first time ever, she felt like someone actually saw past her mask to view the real her…without wanting to change who she was or pretend she was someone else. And he sure as hell hadn’t looked away. It just added to that sensation of floating.
Throughout the process, she had to continue swiping away an occasional tear, and she imagined this must be what a good therapy session would feel like. Quentin, though, was a fellow musician, someone who understood and managed to coax out of her exactly what she’d needed to let go of.
Once they had the music down and had recorded it, she sang it again twice. And there was that feeling again…that sensation of having exorcised a demon that had taken up residence inside her.
She’d never felt this way before. Her breath actually felt lighter.
Quentin said, “That’s it. You nailed it.”
Raine’s stomach announced that it was empty—and, when she saw that the clock said it was three in the afternoon, she said, “It’s a little late for lunch, but can we eat now?”
“I think we can break for the day. Good work.”
Nodding, she picked up her water glass, frowning as she again realized it had been empty for a while. She’d filled it once and guzzled it before they recorded her vocals, but she hadn’t had much all day. As she waited for Quentin as he shut off a few switches, she looked around the studio again, now feeling like at least this room was a place where she could be herself and where her art had perhaps been elevated, even if just for a moment.
When Quentin stood and walked toward her at the door, she couldn’t figure out his expression. And if anyone had asked, she would have said he thought she was…dangerous, because now he could see who she really was underneath it all.
Chapter 9
As Quentin pulled lunch meat and cheese out of the refrigerator, he said, “I think we can almost call it a day—but let’s go back and listen to the track again and make sure there’s nothing else we want to do with it.”
Raine said, “That sounds great.”
“We’ll want to come back to it again in a week or so with fresh ears but, after today, I think we can let it rest for a while.” He would not pick apart Raine’s song as he did with his own work, but listening to all the tracks again later—just once to make sure each was solid—was a good idea. And, of course, they would want to listen to them all together to make sure each one fit.
After the rough start they’d had in the studio, he was shocked at the progress they’d made—and he knew getting one song in the can in a day was a fluke, but it certainly gave them traction they could build on.
Raine asked, “What can I help with?”
“I’ll get the condiments if you want to grab a couple of plates from that cabinet over there.” Together, they assembled two sandwiches and ate quickly, and he sensed she was as eager to return to the studio as he was. He’d had his doubts, but she was turning out to be a dream to work with. Although she’d started off the day trying to protect and hide herself—something he’d also felt the urge to do—she’d come through, letting it out and letting go…and making art in the process. He knew her fans would love her for that song, and she’d probably win over the masses. She’d be able to leave the scandal behind as people focused on her music.
It wasn’t long before Quentin and Raine were seated in the control booth again. After he changed a couple of settings, he played the song for them to both listen to.
As he did, something overcame him as he began to feel something…more for this young woman sitting beside him. What the hell was that—and why? It seemed fairly obvious, though, as he let her voice in the song wash over him. And it didn’t matter that he’d heard it before, nor did it matter that he’d helped craft and mold each part, hadn’t overly edited just as he’d promised. It was just that…the rawness of her voice, the intensity of her words hit him far harder than it should have.
He hadn’t expected to feel anything like it on a replay.
Her voice sounded haunted, yet strong—as if she were confessing to the world that she was a survivor, letting everyone witness what she’d lived through. It almost gave him chills.
And something else. Some other emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint yet.
And he wondered if she’d ever been this honest with anyone else. Although he knew much of her earlier work was achingly truthful, it had been told from the perspective of youth, filtered through the viewpoint of a girl who didn’t quite know how to handle her emotions, who acted out frequently, full of rage and anger—and that music four years ago had spoken to millions of fans.
This song, though—it was one from a woman who was finally ready to uncover deeper layers to get to the core of it all, and to share it with those who would accept it.
He respected her for that…and more.
