Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
They had been in the studio for hours. The first song came out perfectly, but she was struggling to finish the next one.
“I got someone I want you to meet. She might say some stuff that catches you off guard," he said, leaning against the soundboard with his arms crossed. "Just go with it."
"That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be."
The door opened before she could respond.
Genesis came in carrying a Bluetooth speaker under one arm and a water bottle in the other, dressed in gray sweats, a cropped shirt, and low-top Converse. She was pretty in a no-effort kind of way, with big brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a flawless pixie cut.
"You must be Zena." She set the speaker on the table and extended her hand. Her grip was firm. "I'm Genesis. I choreograph for the label sometimes, but honestly, I'm just here because Danger said you were stuck and I'm nosy."
Zena laughed.
Genesis looked at Zena standing by the microphone, then looked through the glass at Danger.
"Yeah, no. We’re not doing this in here," Genesis said. She picked her speaker back up. She reached out and grabbed Zena’s wrist. "Come on. We're leaving."
Zena looked back at Danger through the glass.
Danger pushed off the soundboard. He stepped closer to the window, his eyes locking onto Genesis’s hand around Zena's wrist. He looked like he wanted to open the door and pull Zena back into the room.
He hit the talkback button. His voice was lower than usual. "Don't keep her long. I need her."
"She'll be back when she's ready," Genesis said.
She pulled Zena out into the hallway before Danger could answer.
Genesis led her down the hall to Studio C. It was a huge room currently under renovation. The mirrors on the walls were covered in brown paper. The floors were bare wood.
Genesis flicked on the light, dropped her bag, and set the speaker on a stack of drywall.
"So," Genesis said, turning around. "Tell me what this song feels like in your body."
Zena blinked. "What?"
"The song you're recording. Close your eyes and tell me where you feel it."
"I don't—" Zena stopped. Tried. "I don't feel it anywhere right now. That's the problem."
Genesis nodded slowly, as if that were exactly the right answer. "Okay. That's where we start."
She connected her phone to the speaker.
"I'm not going to play your song. I'm going to play something else. And I just need you to move. Don't think about it. Just let your body do whatever it wants to do."
"I'm not really a dancer."
"Good," Genesis said. "Neither am I. Most of the people I work with just pretend."
She hit play.
A bass came through the speaker. Zena recognized it distantly but could not place it.
Genesis started moving first, swaying her hips, her eyes half closed.
Zena stood still for about thirty seconds, feeling ridiculous in the empty space.
“Come on. Don’t overthink it.”
The music switched to a New Orleans bounce beat.
She started moving. Small at first. Just a few steps to loosen up. The music bounced in her chest, and for a few minutes, she stopped thinking about the booth, the microphone, the label, and everything. She moved through the feeling.
Zena bent over and started shaking her ass to the beat.
Genesis laughed.
Zena looked at her and laughed too. The awkwardness between them disappeared.
They were mid-movement when the door opened. Chaos leaned in the doorway, holding a folder. He stopped when he saw them, his eyes shifting immediately to Genesis.
He stayed in the doorway about two seconds longer than necessary, watching her move.
Genesis did not stop moving but her chin tilted slightly in his direction.
Chaos pulled his eyes away from her then cleared his throat. "Danger's looking for this. Thought he was down here."
"Main studio," Genesis said, her voice smooth. She didn't break her rhythm.
Chaos nodded once, let out a short breath, and pulled the door back shut.
“What was that about?” Zena said once the song stopped.
“Nothing…”
“You don’t have to lie to me. I can read between the lines.”
Genesis just smiled. Zena started dancing again.
Twenty minutes later, they walked back into the main studio.
Zena felt looser. Could feel the song waiting to come out of her, rather than sitting somewhere outside her.
Danger was sitting at the board, but the moment the door clicked, his head snapped up. He looked at Zena like he had been waiting for hours. His eyes tracked her across the room.
“You good?” He asked.
Zena nodded and went straight into the booth and put her headphones on.
The track started, and she opened her mouth and let it out.
When the take ended, the control room was quiet for a moment. Then Danger's voice came through the talkback.
"Ima’ run it back."
They listened to it together through the glass. Danger was leaning forward with his elbows on the board; his eyes fixed entirely on Zena.
Genesis stood behind him with her arms crossed, her head tilted, a small smile on her face.
When it ended, Genesis said simply, “I told you,” and grabbed her speaker off the table.
"How did you know that would work?" Zena asked, stepping out of the booth.
Genesis shrugged, pulling her bag over her shoulder. "Movement gets you out of your head and back into your body. You can't sing from your head."
She paused at the door, and her expression softened. "People are always going to tell you what to feel, Zena. Don't let them. Call me next time you get stuck. I mean it. I have a small studio where I sometimes offer dance classes. You should come sometimes. Bring a friend.”
Zena’s chest warmed. "I will. Thank you… for that."
Genesis smiled and opened the door. "That was all you. I just turned on some music."
The door shut behind her.
Zena turned back toward the booth. Through the control room glass, Danger was watching her. The professional look was gone. He was just staring at her, his eyes focused on her face.
She pressed the intercom button. "You knew that would work."
"I had a feeling."
"How?"
He held her gaze through the glass.
"Genesis has a gift for finding the feeling inside people who have forgotten they have one," he said. His voice was quiet through the speaker.
Zena looked at him.
They both knew he was talking about more than just the music.
Zena sat on the leather couch with her notebook open across her knees, tapping the eraser end of her pencil against her thumb. The track played on a low loop through the monitors.
Danger was at the board, head bowed, fingers resting lightly on the faders. He hadn't adjusted a level in twenty minutes. He was just listening.
"The bridge needs more,” Zena said quietly.
Danger didn't turn around, but she saw his shoulders drop. "It’s fine."
"It's not working for me."
"You're overthinking." He spun the chair to face her. The blue light from the console caught the fullness of his beard and the shadow under his eyes. He looked at her notebook, then back up at her face. "You always do this when you're tired."
"Do what?"
"Find problems that aren't there."
Zena held his gaze. There was a time his intensity would have made her look away.
Danger leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Go home, Zena. We've been at this since noon."
"I want to finish it."
"It is finished. You're stalling." His voice softened to a murmur. “I can't keep sitting in this room with you. Go get some sleep."
The air shifted.
She didn’t answer; she just let the pencil drop onto the notebook.
She stood up.
His eyes tracked her as she stepped right in front of his chair. She leaned forward, invading his space. With every inch she moved, the boundary between CEO and artist dissolved into nothing.
Danger looked up at her, his full lips parting slightly as his gaze dropped to her mouth, then locked back onto her eyes.
He was breathing her air now.
"Danger—" she whispered.
The studio door clicked and swung open.
The spell broke. Zena hurried back to the couch while Danger straightened, his face returning to neutral.
Chyna walked in with a smirk on her face.
Zena recognized her from the boutique. Years hadn't changed her energy, only enhanced it. Her body was tea, and her hair and makeup were on point. Her eyes swept the room, skipping past the equipment and landing directly on the couch.
On Zena.
"I knew you'd be here," Chyna said. She wasn't talking to Danger. "Your car was in the lot. You haven't been answering your phone."
Danger didn't move from the chair. "I'm working."
"It's two in the morning, babe." Chyna crossed to the console and dropped her bag next to his laptop. She leaned down and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to his cheek, her eyes staying on Zena the entire time. "Yasmin said you should have finished up hours ago."
"I’m finished when I say it is," Danger said. His tone was flat, but Zena caught the tension pulling at the corner of his jaw.
Chyna straightened and turned toward the couch. She looked at Zena’s notebook, then at the empty space on the couch right next to her. "Oh. Hey, Zendaya right? Didn't even see you back there in the dark."
Zena stood and closed her notebook. "It’s Zena, and I was just leaving."
"Good." Chyna's smile was tight. "Some of us have somewhere to be. Come on, Danger. I cooked us dinner."
Zena tucked the notebook under her arm and walked toward the door.
To get out, she had to pass directly by the console.
The space between Danger's chair and the board was narrow.
She had to step close enough to smell his cologne, close enough for her sleeve to brush his shoulder.
She kept her eyes straight ahead and did not look at him.
She felt him looking at her anyway.
"See you tomorrow," Zena said, her hand hovering on the door.
He looked like he wanted her to stay, like he wished it were her he was leaving with, not Chyna.
Danger nodded. Chyna was already reaching for his jacket. His eyes stayed on Zena until the door clicked shut between them.
She stood in the hallway for exactly three seconds. She then walked to the elevator, pressed the button, and stared at her own reflection in the steel doors while she waited.
The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open, and she stepped inside. She wasn’t stupid. She had known he had somebody. It was the same girl from that boutique.
Zena stared at the floor numbers, ticking down in red light. After all this time, they still hadn't gotten married. There had to be a reason. A reason why a man like Danger stayed but never fully committed. A reason why Chyna felt the need to mark her territory.
Maybe Chyna knew what Zena was just starting to realize.
Danger was physically in that relationship, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
The elevator doors opened to the quiet hallway lobby. A security guard sat at the desk.
“Hey, Danger told me to walk you out.” The guard said, standing up.
Zena walked to her car with the guard following close behind.
She got in, locked the doors, and drove home.