Going Under
RAINE
"Let's run it again from the bridge." I mark another note in the margin of my chart. "Chase, try dropping to the third instead of staying on the fifth. Will, you've got the root."
Just another session. That's what I keep telling myself. I've done a thousand of these, built a career on being the voice that makes good tracks great. Professional. Reliable. Completely unfazed by working with my ex-husband and his best friend on their comeback album.
"Like old times," Chase grins through the control room window, his grey eyes sparkling. He looks better than he has in years – clear-eyed, steady. Amazing what love and sobriety can do. "Except you're on that side of the glass now."
"Some of us evolved." I adjust a fader, watching the meters dance. The pre-delay on Chase's vocal needs tweaking – just enough to let Will's harmony sit in its own space. "Speaking of evolution, try not to strain for that high harmony. It's not 1999 anymore."
Will's quiet laugh carries through the headphones. He's been watching me all morning with that steady drummer's focus, like he's trying to anticipate my next move.
"Ready?" Raphael asks from his spot behind the board. He's got that look he always gets when he knows he's capturing something special. "Take six."
The track starts, and I close my eyes, letting the familiar pieces fall into place. Chase's bass holding the foundation, Will's drums precise but fluid. Different from their early sound – more mature, more controlled. The kind of music that comes from knowing exactly who you are.
Their voices blend on the chorus just like they used to, Chase's raw edge and Will's steady tone. My part floats above, finding the spaces that need filling. Muscle memory. Like riding a bike, or falling in love, or?—
No. Professional thoughts only.
"That's the one." Raphael's voice breaks through my concentration. "Raine? Thoughts?"
"Chase's pitch was better." I open my eyes, focusing on the console. "But Will, you rushed the pickup into the final chorus."
"Timing critique?" Will raises an eyebrow, but his smile is warm. "Times really have changed."
"Learned from the best." I keep my tone light, not letting those dark blue eyes get to me like they used to. "Again, from the chorus?"
"Actually," Raphael glances at the clock, "let's take a break. Joe's doing a coffee run."
"The usual?" Joe pokes his head in, notepad ready.
"God, yes." Twenty years and he still remembers – double shot vanilla latte, extra hot. "Thanks, Joe."
"Black for me," Will adds. "And?—"
"Green tea, I know." Joe rolls his eyes. "Chase's new health kick is the talk of the studio."
"Hey, I'm trying here." Chase stretches. "Eliza's got me eating kale."
I busy myself with the console while they place orders, tweaking effects settings that don't need tweaking. Easier than watching Will in the iso booth, the same booth where he used to watch me record harmonies for their first album. Where he'd tap rhythms on his leg while I worked out vocal arrangements, his pride so obvious it made me sing better.
"Lucas mentioned you're helping with his home studio setup," Will says through the talkback.
Safe territory. Our son. Our shared pride. "Just some basic guidance. Though he's got good instincts."
"Gets that from you." Will adjusts his headphones over his shaggy blonde hair. "The technical ear."
"Pretty sure the obsession with equipment is all you." I think of Lucas's detailed questions about preamps and compression settings. "He called yesterday asking about vintage mic preamps versus modern ones."
"Did you tell him about that ancient preamp you used to swear by?" Will asks.
"The one you insisted on finding for the first album?" I can't help smiling at the memory. "Three different studios, and you wouldn't let us record my parts until?—"
"Got it!" Joe's back, balancing a drink carrier. "One green tea for the reformed rock star, black coffee for the timekeeper, and one unnecessarily complicated latte for the vocal queen."
"You're a saint." I take my cup, grateful for the interruption.
"Speaking of complicated," Raphael says, accepting his americano, "these harmony arrangements are something else, Raine. Different from what you usually do for other artists."
"Well, I know their voices." I take a careful sip. "Twenty-five years of context helps."
"Plus, she can't help showing off a little." Chase's eyes dance over his tea. "Now that she's the big shot producer."
"Says the man engaged to the label president."
"Touché." He grins. "Though some things don't change. Will still air-drums during vocal takes."
"I do not—" Will starts.
"You absolutely do," Raphael and I say together.
The studio fills with easy laughter, and for a moment it feels just like it used to. Before farewell tours and rehab stays and divorce papers. Before second marriages and empty houses and grown children planning their own lives.
"These harmonies remind me of that ballad on the second album," Raphael says, ever the professional. "The one about?—"
"Don't," Chase interrupts softly, and I could kiss him for it. Some songs we don't need to revisit.
I check the clock. "We should get back to it. I want to try a different approach on the bridge, maybe layer the harmonies instead of stacking them."
"Whatever you think." Will's voice is careful, neutral. "You're the expert."
"Hardly." I pull up the track again. "Just been doing this a while."
"Long enough to know what works." Chase settles his headphones back in place over his short, dark hair. "And what doesn't."
The double meaning hangs in the air, but he doesn't push it. Maybe sobriety really has made him more subtle.
"From the bridge then?" I ask, already reaching for the faders.
Professional. Reliable. Just another session.
If I repeat it enough times, maybe I'll believe it.