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5
Jade
The guy who walked me to the studio looks around nervously. “What do you mean you’ll make sure?” I ask again.
“Well—”
“Crap, that’s rude of me. I didn’t even get your name.”
He shifts around a bit, then ruffles his shaggy black hair. “Um, it’s Austin.”
“Austin …” What is it, only a first name like Cher?
Another chuckle, and he nods his head. “Uh … Hernandez. Austin Hernandez.”
I’m not sure if it’s me that’s making him nervous or something else. I can’t imagine what it could be, so I assume it’s me since it happens with everyone else. I’m just glad he’s not freaking out like others and drooling or gawking at me.
Stepping into the studio, there is a line of guitars against the wall. The microphone rests in the middle, and off to the left are the windowpanes where the mixing studio sits on the other side. Walking over to the guitars, I run my fingers over the tops of them.
I feel weird.
Yes, I’ve been wanting a place devoid of the band and everything that goes into making our music together, but I also feel like I’m kind of a traitor right now. Like I’m on the enemy’s team, using their equipment. Which is silly because this isn’t a record deal, no matter what Jimmy Richards will try to say later. I know he’s going to hound me while I’m using the place, but as long as I can avoid him long enough to get everything out of my system, I’ll deal with that when it comes.
What I want most is a place to record things with a clean slate. This place should work as well as any. And it is a top-of-the-line recording studio. Austin wasn’t exaggerating when he said it’s a VIP studio. I know some of the artists who’ve recorded at Rich Records. No matter how he gets deals done, Jimmy spares no expense when his artists record their music. He’ll bring in the best producers and the most in-demand artists to help his lineup. But I don’t want to be part of his lineup. I’m a King, that’ll never change. I just want to cleanse my musical system.
“You good?” Austin asks, and I turn to see him waiting in the doorway.
Realizing I’m still standing near the guitars, I must look like a weirdo, staring at the wall they sit in front of. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how come you’re recording here and not with your band? Are you …” He looks away, nervously chewing on his lip. “Are you guys breaking up or something?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I’ve just had some music in my system for a while and want a place that doesn’t remind me of them. I don’t want the Kings’ style to influence this stuff, even though it’s only for me. Sorry, I’m sure that sounds crazy.”
“No, not at all.”
“Plus, it’s gonna help out my boyfriend and his band. I figured why not. Though, after meeting with Richards, I’ve continued to have my doubts. I don’t know how you can have him as a boss.”
He lets out an awkward chuckle, looking away. “Boss. Right.”
“Sorry!” I cringe. “Man, I’m being super rude today. Maybe I’m completely wrong, and he’s not. Maybe I read the entire meeting with him wrong.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” he admits, walking closer. “Jimmy Richards can act … dubious.”
“Well, you’re working for his company, so I guess he has to offer some perks.”
He chuckles in a way that sounds sincere and annoyed at the same time. “Yeah, you could call it that.” Catching my unsure expression, he clears his throat. “So, um, do you have any engineers or producers coming in to help you record?”
Walking over to the microphone in the middle of the room, I take a seat on the high-standing chair in front of it. “Not today. I was just going to work by myself.”
“I can work the board for you if you want.”
I quirk an eyebrow. Who is this guy? “I thought … what do you do around here again?”
“I’m sort of like a catch-all. I’ve, uh, been around the music business for pretty much my entire life. A, um, family member got me this job here. I’ve worked the mixing boards and helped record some tracks for other artists. But I assist with pretty much anything in the building. Last week I helped a producer with laying down different samples for a track, and as you saw today, I was working at the front desk. So, uh, yeah. I can pretty much do everything.”
He lets out a slightly uncomfortable chuckle, which earns a giggle out of me. He’s cute. In addition to the dark, shaggy hair, he has dark brown eyes and is unshaven. It’s not a full beard, but definitely a little more than a five o’clock shadow. He’s wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt, over which is a baby blue plaid short-sleeved button-up. It looks like he works in an office building and took advantage of a casual Friday attire day. The most interesting part is his smile. There’s something behind it. I don’t know if he’s nervous now that he knows who I am, or he’s just awkward in general, but it’s a timid grin.
Deciding to take advantage, I nod to him. “Yeah, I’d love to try this guitar out a little bit.”
