PROLOGUE
“LET GO OF ANYTHING THAT NO LONGER SERVES YOU.”
Orielle swayed to the smooth beat flowing from the speakers, allowing her body to catch every beat with ease, as if it were a nuanced muscle memory. She had a knack for picking up on every instrument used during the production of a song. Most of the time, it was a good thing. Other times, it was annoying because she became fixated on one particular sound.
There was something so spirit-freeing about hearing her voice and lyrics float over a masterful tune. A reminder that shereallyhad it. A gift that kept on giving. Head bobbing, with her eyes shut, she silently praised the track she and her producer friend, Cash, just laid down. It was one of those ones, and she knew the second she stepped into the booth.
The studio’s air, usually thick with weed smoke, was filled with the calming scent of lavender and lemons floating from the diffuser in the corner. It was her signature touch and a necessity when she had a session and needed to lock in. That, and a mug of peppermint tea, was usually all she needed.
“I can’t wait until y’all release this,” Krystal, Cash’s cousin, said.
Peeling her eyes open, Orielle smiled. “Me either.”
There were certain songs that she knew she couldn’t hold onto, and this was one of them. It was sensual but soft and guaranteed to be on repeat. Orielle listened until the song finished with plans to go over a few notes next week. She gathered her belongings while Cash busied himself in the booth.
She never stuck around too long once a session was done, and if she did, it was because she was enjoying the vibe. Today would be no different. Her day was booked, and she needed to stay on schedule. Grabbing her water bottle, she stuffed it inside her tote, slid her notebook inside, and disconnected her phone from the charger.
“You don’t want to stay for the next one?” Krystal asked.
Orielle shook her head. The longer she lingered, the more questions came. Between Krystal, Cash, and anyone else who stopped by, there were always questions. She didn’t consider herself the most secretive person in the world, but she also didn’t like everyone in her business. Especially if personal.
“No. I have yoga sessions this evening.”
Krystal nodded, as if remembering. “That is right. You’re a yoga instructor.”
“Mhm.” Orielle nodded.
Just as she slipped her phone into her pocket, Cash popped his head out of the booth.
“Yo, Ori. You out?”
She bobbed her head, tossing the straps of her tote on her shoulder. “Yeah.”
“Hold up.”
Cash paused the music and exited the booth. His tall, tatted frame, long black locs, and one-of-a-kind voice almost had Orielle crushing on him when they first met some years back.His medium brown complexion and charming smile didn’t help either. Cash kept it strictly professional with Orielle, and they’d been good friends ever since. He had a handful of hit records under his belt and way too much curiosity when it came to her. Orielle found it amusing.
“Why you always disappear like you a secret agent or something?” he asked, standing beside her at the couch.
Orielle smirked, tugging at the sleeve of her thin, cropped hoodie. “Why do you think singing is all I do?”
“I know it’s not, but it could be. You don’t want to just sing for a living?” He asked, confused and intrigued to know her answer.
She snorted and shook her head. “No. I do have a life outside of the studio.”
“So, you’re other job is better than this?”
“I wouldn’t say better, but I need it just like I need to sing.”
Cash tilted his head. “A’ight, Ori. I’ma let you slide, but you can’t keep coming in here blessing the mic and then vanish like Cinderella at midnight. Real talk, you should be doing this full-time. That hook and verse you laid today are about to go crazy.”
Orielle looked down, toying with her bracelet. Like Cash, so many other people who loved her voice had the same question. In her mind, turning singing into a full-time job would dilute its value and prevent her from enjoying it as much. In her heart, it’d always been her dream to focus solely on her singing career. The battle between the two was never-ending... a game of tug-of-war where Orielle always ended up in the middle.
“It’s just a hobby,” she finally said.
Cash frowned and waved her off. “A hobby? Yeah, a’ight. Tell somebody else that who hasn’t been working with you for the last few years. You sound better than half the chicks out here callin’ themselves singers.”
Orielle knew that to be true, but she didn’t knock anyone else’s talent or lack thereof. With an album, a few EPs, features, and a few singles under her belt, it wasn’t about sounding better. It was about believing she had what it took to truly succeed. Cash’s support and faith in her had never wavered; it only grew stronger over the years. Still, Orielle wasn’t in a state of acceptance.
