Was he? Once he said it out loud, he couldn’t unsay it. What if she thought he was crazy and wanted to ditch him as a client?
No, that was dumb. She already knew he was nuts and had compensated by hiring him a sugar baby. She was going to match his freak.
“It’s probably easier if I show you,” he said finally. “Come on.”
River recorded enough demos at home to have a decent setup. It wasn’t fancy, but it got the job done. It always sounded better on a pair of high-quality headphones, so he handed a set to Amanda and slipped on his own ruby-red pair, leaving them around his neck for the time being. “So uh, I’ve been writing a little. A lot, actually. But it’s kind of all over the place.”
“How so?”
Well, see, I was eating ice cream with Jem, and he went on a rant about just letting people like things, and it awakened something in me, and now I refuse to be pigeonholed. So I’ve written a pop ballad, a pop-punk patter song, a country tune,a riff on classic rock, and my best approximation of R&B, and I think they are all actually good. But only a huge music nerd is going to enjoy the entire album, and I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t want to change them. I wrote them that way because I liked it. It was fun.
Remember fun?
River sighed. “Just listen.”
He played her the classic rock tribute first. Her brows went up a little, but she bopped along in obvious enjoyment, even gave a little “ooh” when it got to the guitar solo.
The second track was R&B. Amanda’s brows drew together as she listened, and she sank into the chair at the mixing station, nodding.
Her eyes almost popped out of her head when the patter song started. The quick, rhythmic lyrics had needed fifteen takes, and he still wasn’t satisfied, but it only had to be good enough for Amanda. He didn’t need perfection today.
She let it go to the end of the fourth track before she hit Pause and slipped the headphones down. “Your music has ADHD.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Exactly. But uh… do you like it?” When was the last time he’d been so nervous debuting something?
Fortunately Amanda didn’t let him suffer. “Honestly? I think it’s fucking great. Weird, but great.”
At last River could relax a little. He sat in the chair next to Amanda’s and picked at his red nail polish. “Okay but, like… can I keep doing it?”
Amanda gave him an amused smile. “You’re an established musician. You can do whatever you want. We just have to find the right way to package it.”
That definitely sounded like something that was more her wheelhouse than his. His trepidation must have shown, because she took pity.
“River. It’s going to be great. I’m going to make a couple calls. There’s a producer I think would really dig into the challenge of pulling this into a cohesive sound. You’ll like them, they’re spicy. And I have a few ideas about soft-launching a new sound for you. If this is what finally gets you writing again, gets you excited about music again? We’ll make it work.”
River hugged her. “Oh my God. Thank you. I thought I lost my touch for a minute there.”
“Uh, no. Not worried about that.” She shook her head. “Can you do me a favor and send me those files? I want to run some ideas by my colleagues.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“And just… sit on this for me, okay? Don’t go livestreaming it until I’ve had a chance to think about it.”
He flopped back in the chair, feigning bonelessness. “Amanda! How am I supposed to survive without validation from the internet?”
She gave him a slightly sharp smile. “Maybe you can call Jem and play for him instead.”
“Wow.” She really just chose violence. “That’s how it is?”
“You bought him a car,” Amanda pointed out. “It’s not like he doesn’t know you’ve got terminal down-bad disease.”
“I didn’tbuy it for him,” River corrected. “I gave him a car I already had! Totally different scenario.”
Amanda unpaused the audio. River had the volume on his headset turned up loud enough that he could perfectly hear himself singing about all the things he wanted to give Jem. He hadn’t even put a car on the list, which was super dumb;carwas so easy to rhyme.
Instead the song was full of romantic longing and whimsical things, likethe first cup of coffee in the potandthe last piece of cakeandthe side of the bed without the wet spot.
“Terminal. Down-bad. Disease.”
