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  “Sounds perfect, but I might be in town for a while.”

  “We’re only in town off and on for the next week or so, then we’re on tour. You should take him up on it,” Eric said.

  “All right. I will. Thanks.” Garrett couldn’t believe his luck. He loved how people in the industry stuck together. “You know, as far as you needing a backup singer, I bet Barry can drum someone up.”

  “You think? That would be awesome, ’cause until we get those tracks laid, we’re sitting in purgatory,” Brad said.

  Garrett noticed Riley at the fridge in the corner, adding bottled water and sodas. An idea struck. He fought back a grin. This was too damn easy.

  “In fact, there might be a solution sooner than you think. See that girl over there?” He tilted his head toward Riley. “She was a finalist on Chart Toppers a couple of years back. I’ve heard her sing. She’s amazing.”

  “No kidding. That’d solve the problem and save us a chunk on studio time. Think she’ll do it?” Brad asked.

  “Sing backup on your next hit album? She’d be a fool not to. Let me talk to her.” Garrett grabbed an olive off the table and popped it in his mouth.

  He came up behind Riley. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.” She turned and bumped right into him.

  “Whoa!” Riley fumbled the armload of bottled water, dropping three. “Geez, dude. You ever hear of personal space?” She kneeled down to pick up the bottles.

  Garrett took a step back and nudged a water bottle toward her with his foot. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  “No,” she said without looking up.

  “You haven’t even heard what I have to offer.”

  “I don’t care what you have to offer. The answer will always be no.”

  Garrett kneeled down next to her and caught a whiff of her perfume. Something slightly floral, but with a bit of spice.

  He spoke softly in her ear. “There’s this great advancement opportunity for you here at the studio.”

  Riley glanced up.

  “In Studio C with the Jade Monkeys.”

  She stood, all the bottles in her arms again. This time her expression showed excited interest instead of derision. “They need a new assistant engineer at the board?”

  “Well, no. Not right now, but they might later. What they need is someone who can sing some backup tracks.”

  She curled her lip in a snarl. “Is that right?”

  “You’d be perfect. I told them you’d do it, so you can’t say no.” He leaned casually against the table and crossed his arms, waiting. She’d be pissed at him, but she couldn’t say no with the band a mere ten feet away. She’d thank him later.

  “Oh really? And what’s in this for you?”

  “Nothing. Think of me as the problem solver. They need a kick-ass singer, and you have a kick-ass voice. You need help getting back in the game, and I’m here to provide it.”

  Riley set the bottles of water into a tub of ice on the table behind her. She glanced at the Jade Monkeys, who dished up their plates, then back at Garrett.

  “Why is it that whenever I spend more than two minutes near you, I feel the need to use hand sanitizer?”

  “Come on. You know you want to sing with them. Here, I’ll introduce you.” He took her by the arm before she could say no, and pulled her over to the guys. “Eric, Brad, I’d like you to meet—”

  But Riley interrupted. “Hi guys, it’s nice to see you again. I heard the final mix for your single ‘Monsters Under the Bed.’ It sounds like a hit to me.”

  “Thanks, we love what Barry did with it. It’ll be the lead single off the album,” Brad said.

  Garrett looked from Riley, to the guys, and back again. “Oh, you’ve met. Good. I talked to Riley and she’d be happy to—”

  “Thanks so much for the offer,” Riley said. “Seriously, I’m flattered, but I don’t sing anymore. Trust me, I’d ruin your album. But did you know that Garrett sings a great falsetto? In fact, I hear he’s looking for a new gig. His last band kicked him out.”

  Garrett pierced her with a glare. Brad and Eric grinned.

  “I’ve gotta run. But be sure to give Garrett a chance. He loves ballads. See ya!”

  She punched Garrett lightly on the arm and walked out, letting the door fly shut behind her.

  Eric burst out laughing.

  “You’ve definitely got her under control.” Brad chuckled. “Got any other ideas?”

  Garrett stared at the closed door. Maybe Riley won that one, but he’d get her next time. No way was this little flit of a girl going to best him.

  10

  The next couple of days were a pain in the butt with Garrett’s constant pressure to convince her to sing.

  “That’s all right. You probably don’t have that great of a voice anymore anyway,” he’d said yesterday in a poor attempt at reverse psychology.

  “You got that right. I peaked at thirteen and it’s all gone down the drain since then.”

  But he couldn’t dampen her spirits. The Graphite Angels were in the building. A lot of big bands came through Sound Sync Studio, but to Riley, the Graphite Angels were the biggest. She loved their music, their lyrics, and their unique style. No one else on the planet had done as much for rock as they had.

  When she was little, her mom played their music constantly. Riley could sing every word to every song. The Graphite Angels had shaped the way she sang from a tender age as she mimicked the rough, throaty tone of Steven Hunter, the lead singer. She’d even performed their megahit “Eclipse” while on the reality show. It was one of the few memories of the show that she was proud of.

  And now, Steven Hunter and the rest of the band were here, and Barry made sure Riley was, too. She wouldn’t be at the console, but she would be in the room, a fly on the wall, witnessing the iconic band make their magic.

  Riley prepared the live room for vocals. The group had recorded the other tracks in the spring before she started working there, and before the band took a hiatus due to one of the members’ sudden rehab stint.

  Now they were back and she was setting up mics for Steven Hunter. Her stomach churned with excitement as she set up three different types of mics. She wasn’t sure what he preferred and she wanted him to be happy. She set up a Copperhead, a SM7B, and then the big boy Miktek CV4, and attached a pop filter on each one.

  She placed a stool nearby in case Steven wanted to sit. When everything was perfect, she took a spot in the back corner of the control room, out of the way. She had to keep her fangirl euphoria under wraps. Artists hated working with tech staff who couldn’t stay professional and objective. For that reason, she wasn’t sure she should even meet them. Riley didn’t trust herself not to squeal with excitement. She just wanted to watch from afar. Maybe breathe some of the same air in the building, and if luck was on her side, sneak a picture of them in action.

  Garrett and Ron entered. “Is everything ready?” Ron asked.

  “Yes, it’s all set,” she answered. Garrett looked eager to strike up a conversation, so she studied the paperwork on her clipboard. Why did he have to be here? She’d successfully avoided him the last couple of days.

  The door opened and Barry entered, along with Steven Hunter and the guys that made up the Graphite Angels. Another man who she didn’t recognize carried a video camera on his shoulder.

  One wouldn’t know that these aging tattooed rockers, still sporting long hair and a cocky swagger, were such massive talent. Riley felt dwarfed in their presence, while Garrett could stand proudly with them as an equal and didn’t need to be embarrassed.

  Barry started the introductions. “Steven, Jon, Teddy, Frank, I’d like you to meet your crew for today. You remember Ron from last spring. And we have a special guest who’s been working with us for the past couple of weeks, Garrett Jamieson.”

  Garrett nodded and smiled.

  Barry turned to Riley and winked, knowing how starstruck she must be. Her nerves tightened like the snare on a drum.

/>   Oh my God, he was going to introduce her. She pasted on a smile that she hoped looked casual and not like a fangirl.

  “And we also have Riley Parks assisting us . . .”

  Steven Hunter interrupted. “Did you say Garrett Jamieson? Well, I’ll be damned. Your brother is dating my daughter, Marti.”

  Riley’s smile fell as Steven failed to notice her when Garrett was in the same room. She looked away, as if not devastated that Garrett stole her one moment with the superstar.

  Steven stepped forward, shook Garrett’s hand, and pulled him into a bear hug. “Hell, boy, we’re practically family.”

  Garrett laughed. “Yes, sir. Just about.”

  Steven wore several chains and pendants, purple brocade pants, a white shirt unbuttoned to his waist, and a mustard-colored jacket with a long scarf. The man didn’t disappoint. “How is Adam? I heard he was off taking pictures in some foreign country.”

  “That’s right. He’s in Tanzania.”

  Garrett acted unfazed by the presence of rock royalty as he chatted it up with Steven. But Riley was ticked that he kept stepping into situations where he wasn’t welcome. At least not by her.

  “Marti called me when he left. She was a big sobbing baby, but she’ll get over it. Hey, I heard the band broke up. Something about Peter having throat problems.”

  Riley could see the light suddenly dim in Garrett’s eyes at Steven’s words. She’d heard rumors about his brother having vocal problems, but she didn’t know if they were true.

  “Not exactly the thing you want to happen when you’re at the top of your game,” Garrett said.

  “Damn straight. It’s a shame. Any chance you’ll be getting back together?”

  “It doesn’t look that way. Which is why I’m here. I’m hoping to hone my skills in another part of the industry.”

  “Smart boy. Well, if there’s anything you need, let me know.” Steven patted him on the shoulder.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “All riiiiight!” Steven half sang, half screamed in his iconic voice. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Everyone laughed. The other Graphite Angels settled onto the couches, the camera guy set the video camera on a tripod, and Steven removed his bright jacket.

  Riley couldn’t help the stab of envy from watching Garrett shake hands and talk with Steven while she’d been overlooked entirely. She probably would have said or done something embarrassing anyway. Sitting back in her corner to watch, she shook off the disappointment.

  Steven entered the live room, taking in the empty space. He looked above him at the acoustically friendly ceiling tiles and the portable sound walls she had placed around the three microphones to create an open booth. Soloists usually recorded in the small isolation booth, but Steven Hunter was claustrophobic, so he always recorded in the main live room.

  He approached the three mics and smiled at the bevy of choices. “Check, check, check,” he said into each one. In the control room, they adjusted the knobs and slide buttons.

  He sang an opening refrain from one of his songs, again trying each mic as the guys at the console recorded the samples.

  “Hey, what do you think?” Steven asked.

  Barry hit the talk-back button. “The SM7B sounds a bit hollow. Why don’t you step in and listen to the other two.”

  Steven reentered the control room. Ron instructed Garrett to play back the other two versions. He pulled them up right away. He no longer fumbled around at the control board. At least the guy was a quick learner and wasn’t going to embarrass Barry with shoddy work.

  The team discussed the sounds of each mic with the band, narrowing down the last two mics. Ron, as assistant engineer, fine-tuned the balance of the feed. Steven returned to the live room.

  “Can I get some water?” Steven asked.

  This was Riley’s job. Her pulse quickened as she hopped off her stool and fetched a bottle of water from the small fridge between rooms. She entered the live room, trying to act professional and low key.

  She set the bottle on a small table next to the mics and snuck a quick peek at Steven.

  “Thanks,” he said, glancing at her briefly before Barry piped through to give it another try.

  Riley’s heart soared. Steven Hunter had actually spoken to her! She slipped from the room.

  The sound check process took twenty minutes. When Riley first started at the studio, she’d been surprised at how much time it took to make sure each mic produced the desired sound, and the Graphite Angels were very specific in what they wanted.

  “We’re getting a hollow sound off the Copperhead mic,” Jon, the bass player, said.

  “Riley, would you adjust the pop filter closer to the mic?” Barry asked.

  “Sure.” She slipped back into the live room where Steven stood. “Excuse me. I’m going to adjust the filter a little.”

  Riley kept her eyes trained on her task, not wanting to openly stare at the megastar. He stepped back and took a swig of water. She sensed his eyes on her as her fingers fumbled with the adjustment knobs as if this were her first day on the job.

  “I swear they’re hiring kids younger and younger. You don’t look any older than my daughter, Marti, and she’s still in high school.”

  “I’m eighteen.” Riley offered up a smile.

  She glanced up and caught Garrett staring at her, then he quickly looked away. Could he possibly be jealous that she was talking with Steven? She fought to keep a smirk off her face.

  “You must know someone pretty high up to have gotten a gig here at your age.”

  “Just lucky,” she said.

  But she knew it was Jason Edgette who’d helped her, contacting her every so often to see how she was. As soon as she graduated and he learned she couldn’t even afford community college, he contacted Barry.

  “No one is just lucky, kid. Must be that rockin’ red hair of yours,” he teased.

  Riley dipped her head to hide the blush that crossed her cheeks. She finished adjusting the filter. “There you go. That should sound better.”

  She hightailed it from the room and fought to act cool as she reentered the control room.

  Steven tested the new mic placement.

  “Much better. Let’s try the first verse,” Barry said.

  Garrett hit the PLAY button and the loud pulsing notes of her favorite Graphite Angels song pumped through the room. A grin spread across her face as Steven Hunter sang those familiar lyrics. His voice delivered the gritty tones that made him famous. Looking around the room, she noticed everyone on staff smiling, including Garrett.

  It wasn’t every day they got to hear a legend sing one of the most popular rock songs of all time.

  “That was great, Steven,” Barry said. “But I want to tighten up the sound a touch. Hang on.” He looked at Riley. “Adjust the pop filter a little closer.”

  “Got it.” She returned to the live room and loosened the filter, moving it closer to the mic for a sharper sound. This time her hands moved deftly.

  “Something about you seems really familiar,” Steven said, studying her. “You wouldn’t somehow be friends with my daughter, would you?”

  “No.” She smiled at the unlikeliness of her knowing his daughter. “I’ve never met her. There you go. See if that works better.” She stepped away.

  “I’ll think of it. I always do. So what do you want to do with your life? You want to make records?”

  She glanced into the control room where everyone listened in on their conversation. “Yes, I’d like to be a sound engineer.” She loved talking to Steven, but would have preferred it be private.

  “With a face like yours you should be onstage. Do you sing?”

  She avoided looking at the all-knowing faces of her coworkers. “No. Not since I was a kid.”

  “Ha! That’s a good one. You’re about a split second from puberty.”

  Her face warmed. “I’ll let you get back to work.” She ducked out before he could ask her more.

 
As she entered the control room, Garrett rolled his eyes. She ignored him and picked up her clipboard.

  “Check, check,” Steven said into the mic. Then he let out another of his signature wails, and the Sound Sync staff laughed, while the band members went unfazed.

  Garrett shot her an arrogant smirk and pressed the talk-back button. “Hey, Steven, I just realized where you recognize Riley from.”

  She almost bolted off her stool to duct tape his mouth.

  “Riley was a contestant on Chart Toppers a couple of years back.”

  11

  Steven studied Riley through the control room window. She tried to fade into the woodwork.

  “Well, hot damn, Garrett, you’re right!” Then Steven said to Riley, “You were that adorable little powerhouse that rocked Chart Toppers.”

  Everyone turned to stare at her.

  She smiled weakly.

  “See, I knew I recognized you. You were damn good, too.” Steven looked at Barry. “You should have seen her. I’m hangin’ in my living room, mellowing with a smoke in front of the tube, and this little firecracker trots on stage and blows the judges right off the panel.”

  Riley chewed the edge of her lip.

  “She must have been what, ten years old?”

  “Thirteen,” she said under her breath.

  “Hell, the vocals coming out of her were impossible for her age. I couldn’t believe it. I’m telling you. It was mind-blowing.”

  Despite Riley’s embarrassment at being called out, her heart soared from his compliments.

  “And then she sang her own rendition of ‘Eclipse’ that was freakin’ brilliant.”

  Riley remembered. That song launched her into the competition’s top ten. It was also the last time she sang anything she chose.

  “You should sing it for him,” Garrett said.

  Riley felt the blood drain from her face.

  “Hell yes, the band’s gotta hear this!” Steven waited in the live room like a kid with a new toy to show off.

  She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. She certainly couldn’t sing.

  Garrett leaned back in his chair and eyed her in amusement. Ron waited expectantly as if she were supposed to pop right up and break into song. The cameraman aimed his lens at her. She’d forgotten about him.