Marcel shrugged. “It’s no big deal, H. It’s just the annual check-in. Make sure you’re gettin’ what you need. Make sure they’re gettin’ what they need. It’ll only take an hour.”
It was a big deal. “Can’t they make it earlier?”
He surrendered his palms. “I’m just the messenger, man.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I rubbed at the back of my neck, dug in until it started to smart. “A little notice wouldn’t have gone amiss. Nobody got any goddamn manners anymore?”
Marcel didn’t understand. I couldn’t expect him to. Tomorrow was supposed to be a day off. Now, in my mind at least, the entire day was booked. Knowing I had something scheduled for four PM that I wasn’t looking forward to, meant I wouldn’t be able to relax until it was over. That ‘no big deal’ meeting would haunt me for the rest of today. ‘Only an hour’ would interrupt my sleep tonight and it would leave me in a state of suspense throughout tomorrow.
Fuck anxiety, and fuck Sean Wyatt.
Thanks to Marcel’s announcement, I needed a few minutes before we got started. I went ahead into the booth as planned but, for a while, I just stood there, breathing in the silence. I needed to block it out for now, save the mental torment for when I’d finished work. I could do it. I’d had years of practice.
A little later, headphones on, I closed my eyes, let the building rhythm bleed into my ears. I pretended we were in the earlier stages of production, that my backing band were here, that the music in my ears was live and the drums tapping, bass strumming were vibrating under my feet as I counted myself in. My shoulders rolled and fingers clicked with the crescendo of beats to what was undoubtedly the ‘banger’ track of this album.
And then I let it rip…
Turn it up, lay it down, oh baby come around
Oh so hot, oh so sweet, I just love your sound
The lights go down I turn ‘em up oh let’s get into this
I need a taste of it, your cherry bliss
See you there, your brown hair, softest cherry lips
Need it now, feel around with my fingertips
It’s hot in here, cool me down with your summer rain
I wanna take it all, give me the pain
I took Marcel’s thumbs-up as my cue to stop, and the curl of his index finger to come out. I thought it needed another shot, suspected my belt sounded too forced, but perhaps not if he needed me outside already. “What’s up?” I jerked my head up as I leant against the doorjamb and tried to avoid eye-contact with the new person in the room.
“H, this is Amber Key,” Marcel announced. The woman waved. “She’s a new artist, recording in the studio next door. She wanted to come and say hi.”
I’d never been great at disguising my facial expressions, so I knew Marcel would understand how annoyed I was with him by the daggers in my eyes. He knew better, knew me better. I did hope, however, that the new Amber Key hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t her fault she made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like surprises, that was all. Needed predictability in my day, and that had been fucked up enough since I’d arrived.
She walked forward, tall and oozing confidence on heels that rivalled the length of her calves. “It’s really great to meet you.” Swishing the silken blonde hair that reached the middle of her back to one side, she leaned right in and kissed my cheek, letting her hand linger on my arm.
Instinct pulled me back a couple of steps. She was far too close. I’d never known why, but contact, especially with people I didn’t know well, irritated me, made anxiety bubble in my chest, prickled the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck. Now that she’d crossed that line, albeit unintentionally, all I could focus on was the need for her to leave. “You too,” I said. It wasn’t, but age and experience had taught me that’s what I was expected to say. Like I said, I’d become pretty decent at social interaction, though I preferred not to be blindsided, and given the choice I’d avoid it altogether.
“You should pop next door sometime,” Amber went on. “I’d really value your thoughts on my music.”
I became conscious of my fingernails scraping my palm. They did that sometimes, especially when I felt on edge. I shoved my hand into my pocket. “That’s what your producer’s for.” A hissing sound emerged from Marcel’s direction and, when I looked, I noticed him wincing. Obviously, I’d said something wrong, but I wasn’t sure what.
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed a little red. “Right, yeah, of course. Maybe we could go out sometime? Grab a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
I could tell straight away I’d said the wrong thing. She looked at me, brow curved, like I’d just pissed my pants right in front of her. “It’s nothing personal. I don’t want to go out with anyone.”