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"You sure I need that?"
"Just following orders."
"Ah." So, Declan hasn’t forgotten about me completely? He may not speak with me, but he’s left instructions for my safety. Is that good or bad? Either way, I’m simply happy I’m able to leave the house. I’d spent the last few weeks focused on writing and creating music—and Declan helped here, too. He had Rick show me to a studio he’d set up for me in the basement of his place. All of which is so confusing.
The man cares for me—he has to with everything he’s done—but he’s still avoiding me. I slide into the backseat. Rick shuts the door behind me, then takes the driver’s seat and eases the car forward.
* * *
"That was good!" Harry claps from his position behind the producer in the control room of the studio. I slip off the headphones and crack my neck. I’ve been recording, or trying to record, for the last six hours. We’ve stopped for breaks, and the producer has stopped often to steer the direction my voice was taking. Which isn’t something I’m used to.
Singing itself, is not the issue. I’ve been singing since I was five. It's following his directions as he tries to change the natural trajectory of the melody I’d planned. Oh, and he's not happy about the lyrics. He finds them too niche. Yep, niche versus mainstream is an argument I’m already becoming too familiar with.
"Was it really?" I scowl at him through the glass wall that separates the recording booth from the rest of the studio.
"Umm, uh, it's better than what you started with," he offers.
"I still don’t understand why you want me to change my lyrics and the arrangement I had in mind."
"Because it’s not—"
"Mainstream enough." Yeah, I got that. The hair on the nape of my neck rises. I glance around the recording booth. Nope, can’t see any cameras in here. So, why does it feel like I’m being watched? Must be my imagination. A chill runs up my spine, and I shudder. "I think I’ve had enough for today."
I place my headphones on the narrow counter then walk out of the live room.
"We’re not done yet," Harry cries.
"We are for now."
"But—"
I walk up to him and plant my palms on my hips. "I really am thankful you’re taking a chance on me. I am. But if I can’t record the song as I imagined it, then I’m not sure I want to do it, anyway."
"I have more than twenty years’ experience in this field. I've built some of the biggest names in this business from scratch. I—"
I hold up my hand. "You’re a genius when it comes to creating stars from singers. I understand. What I’m questioning is if that’s what I want to be."
He stares at me for a few seconds, then bursts out laughing. "Everyone wants to be a star."
"I’m not saying I don’t want it. But I don’t think I want it enough to get it by being something I’m not."
He searches my features, then takes a step back. "I’ve seen a lot of young girls come here with dreams in their eyes. I’ve seen most fail. Very, very few succeed. The ones that do are not always the ones that work the hardest, but it’s the ones that work the cleverest. The ones who know where to focus their efforts. The ones who know how to play to the lowest common denominator so they're accessible to as many people as possible."
I narrow my gaze. "You mean, the ones who are eager enough to give up their true selves and change, until they don’t know what they stand for anymore?"
He raises a shoulder. "I’ve heard all the arguments. Ultimately, it’s about what the audience wants—"
"Exactly, and how do you know what they do or don't want if you don’t even try to show something new to them?"
He blows out a gust of breath, and his jaws shake. With his short stature and pot belly, not to mention, the bald head, he looks like someone’s adorable uncle. Except for his eyes, which are bright and shrewd… The look of a man who’s seen a lot. He has the experience to know what works, I’ll grant him that. Only, I’m not sure if it works for me. I open my mouth to tell him, but he holds up his hand. "It’s only our first day working together. And perhaps, I pushed you too much—"
"It’s not the hours or the hard work that bothers me. It’s trying to become something I’m not. It doesn’t feel right."
"There are many a principle you’ll have to bend to get to the top," he warns.
"Not from where I am. I had to make enough compromises to become someone I wasn’t growing up. I didn’t leave that only to come here and conform to someone else’s idea of what I should sing or not."
His features soften. "I’m almost touched by the courage of your conviction and your ideals. It’s good to have them. Just know, they may cause you to miss out on a lot of big opportunities."
