“Huh?” His shoulders dropped so much he looked like a sad cartoon character. “You… you think?”
“Listen to you, dude. You’re made for soul, for gospel. For R&B. That was fucking beautiful.”
“Oh.”
“I gotta get you on the wurli. Stripped-back drums. For now, though, do that again.”
“I-I didn’t write this song. You won’t believe it, I just found it sitting in here. I dunno whose it is. I didn’t mean to steal it.”
“Ghost of Aretha Franklin, probably. She clearly left her voice with you, anyway. Do the fucking song again, dude.”
He played the song again. I recognized some of the melodic riffs… that was right. I’d written some of them down with the songs. Dammit. I’d forgotten about that. How much material did I have in here?
Plenty, turned out. Stephen Shale did the song again, and I cried my heart out the whole way, and then he offered to show mesome of the other stuff he found in here,and I died a little on the inside, but I told himsure, let’s see what the ghosts left,and I went through where it did kinda look like ghosts, because unsurprisingly, my handwriting was fucking awful when I was in that state.
But apparently my songwriting was solid. I got him on the Wurlitzer too, with a stripped-back vintage drum track, and I leaned against the wall listening dumbfounded as he belted offthis one in his real voice too, and I was so fucking pissed off at this scrawny little dork for hiding this thing for months. A wistful, nostalgic track about dreams that died along the way, and better dreams that came up in their place. God, Helena was all over every one of these songs.
“I gotta get Amber,” I said once he finished the song. “I think she needs to hear this. And I need her help on that stupid strings plugin I can never use right. This needs a violin.”
“Oh, I’ve never had a violin track before.”
“Trust me, dude, I know.”
At least I wasn’t losing my mind. Amber was as dumbstruck as I was, sitting in the booth with me as Stephen Shale did his thing, and she looked incredulously at me.
“Did he have lessons or something?”
“Apparently he’s always been able to do this and was holding out.”
“Shit. I guess you’re a talent agent for a reason, pulling something like this out of that kid.”
Well, I wasn’t anymore. In fact, I’d never been. But when she put it like that, I guess I kinda sounded like one.
It was all too soon that the next booking came in, and Stephen Shale hiked his bag up on his shoulders, his chest puffed out.
“Well, I gotta help my momma with her work,” he said. “But this was good. Thanks, Amber. Thanks, Miss Branch. See you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. Yeah. I was never seeing him again. But I didn’t have the heart to tell him that just like this. Instead, I went with something else he’d needed to hear. “Hey, Stephen,” I said, and he stopped at the door.
“Yeah?”
“Good work today. Proud of you, kid.”
He puffed up even more, practically glowing. “Gee, thanks.”
Amber elbowed me. “Think you got a hit on your hands with that one after all.”
Maybe I could just… route him along to someone who could make use of that voice of his, and then I could leave this city having left my mark.
“Yeah,” I said, my chest tearing painfully down the middle. “Maybe.”
Chapter 21
Helena
“What do you mean, you missed the mixer?” Linyue said, her Shanghai accent popping in full color over the phone. I trudged through the streets like they were a punishment, the feelings forming a heavy stone in the base of my stomach.
“I wasn’t feeling it.”
