Chapter 9
As Quentin pulled lunch meat and cheese out of the refrigerator, he said, “I think we can almost call it a day—but let’s go back and listen to the track again and make sure there’s nothing else we want to do with it.”
Raine said, “That sounds great.”
“We’ll want to come back to it again in a week or so with fresh ears but, after today, I think we can let it rest for a while.
” He would not pick apart Raine’s song as he did with his own work, but listening to all the tracks again later—just once to make sure each was solid—was a good idea.
And, of course, they would want to listen to them all together to make sure each one fit.
After the rough start they’d had in the studio, he was shocked at the progress they’d made—and he knew getting one song in the can in a day was a fluke, but it certainly gave them traction they could build on.
Raine asked, “What can I help with?”
“I’ll get the condiments if you want to grab a couple of plates from that cabinet over there.
” Together, they assembled two sandwiches and ate quickly, and he sensed she was as eager to return to the studio as he was.
He’d had his doubts, but she was turning out to be a dream to work with.
Although she’d started off the day trying to protect and hide herself—something he’d also felt the urge to do—she’d come through, letting it out and letting go…
and making art in the process. He knew her fans would love her for that song, and she’d probably win over the masses.
She’d be able to leave the scandal behind as people focused on her music.
It wasn’t long before Quentin and Raine were seated in the control booth again. After he changed a couple of settings, he played the song for them to both listen to.
As he did, something overcame him as he began to feel something…
more for this young woman sitting beside him.
What the hell was that—and why? It seemed fairly obvious, though, as he let her voice in the song wash over him.
And it didn’t matter that he’d heard it before, nor did it matter that he’d helped craft and mold each part, hadn’t overly edited just as he’d promised.
It was just that…the rawness of her voice, the intensity of her words hit him far harder than it should have.
He hadn’t expected to feel anything like it on a replay.
Her voice sounded haunted, yet strong—as if she were confessing to the world that she was a survivor, letting everyone witness what she’d lived through. It almost gave him chills.
And something else. Some other emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint yet.
And he wondered if she’d ever been this honest with anyone else.
Although he knew much of her earlier work was achingly truthful, it had been told from the perspective of youth, filtered through the viewpoint of a girl who didn’t quite know how to handle her emotions, who acted out frequently, full of rage and anger—and that music four years ago had spoken to millions of fans.
This song, though—it was one from a woman who was finally ready to uncover deeper layers to get to the core of it all, and to share it with those who would accept it.
He respected her for that…and more.
The first verse of the song, followed by the chorus, stirred in him emotions he hadn’t expected.
I trusted you because you promised me the world…
And you saw the vulnerable girl that I was inside.
I was a grain of sand that you called a pearl,
And you found a way to control my heart and mind.
You promised me everything I ever desired,
But you wanted everything in return.
You ripped it away; you set it all on fire
And stood back just to watch it burn.
My soul, my heart, my bones, my art,
You’ve ripped it all away from me.
All that’s left is this empty shell,
A shadow where my heart used to be.
As verse two began, feeling even more emotional depth, thanks to the subtle piano beneath the guitar and bass, he realized what it was he was feeling.
But where the hell had that come from? He hardly knew this woman.
How couldn’t you see I was nothing more than a child?
When you stole from me, you made me think I was giving.
You were the devil masquerading as my savior beguiled
And I will never ever, ever be that little girl again.
My soul, my heart, my bones, my art,
You’ve ripped it all away from me.
All that’s left is this empty shell,
A shadow where my heart used to be.
As the song played, he turned his head slightly to look at Raine, and it was as if he were seeing her for the first time.
Those delicate, tattooed hands, feminine and yet capable of so much strength, with short, practical nails that allowed her to play the guitar.
Her mouth, those lips that had spoken her truths…
and the intensity he could feel rippling off her in waves.
When he risked a glance at his face, he saw something in his eyes.
In that moment, she felt it too—an unspoken need, an unexpected bond.
Or maybe she felt something else. He couldn’t trust himself to guess.
But desire was filling the pit of his belly…for her. Seeing who she really was had opened his eyes and his heart. And he knew it had to be a simple emotional response to the intensity of the day.
Regardless, he could hardly ignore it, the way it gnawed at the pit of his belly, this emotion he hadn’t experienced in years.
But he knew it was the last fucking thing he needed to be thinking or feeling.
This young woman had a lot of skeletons buried in the back of her closet, and she’d just started exhuming them.
She’d trusted him to treat her with respect and he would.
But the emotions swirling in his chest, causing an ache deep in his gut, warred with his head, and he couldn’t quite understand why.
So he focused on the song as much as possible instead of her warm body sitting next to his. In the song, her voice grew slightly in intensity as she sang the bridge right before the soft, short guitar solo:
And I thought I liked it, thought I loved it,
Thought I wanted it, thought I deserved it,
Thought I needed it, thought I owned it,
Thought it was what I’d bought and paid for…
But that was just what you wanted me to believe,
Because it made me your willing vessel.
The guitar solo was nothing more than the notes played throughout the song but, this time, they could be heard on their own with just a few notes added in, just two lines of music to break it up.
The reason why it worked was because, when it slowly led back to the chorus one more time, the listener could feel the approaching crescendo with the last time she sang the line “You used me: my body, my soul, my everything.”
Then, soft and quiet, almost weak—and oh, so poignant—came the last two lines with no accompaniment:
And I don’t know who I am anymore…
But did I ever know that little girl anyway?
When the song ended, Quentin took several seconds before drawing in a cleansing breath and forcing his eyes open.
And he reminded himself: this was business, nothing more.
So he nodded, clearing his throat and focusing on keeping his voice steady.
“I think we leave it the way it is. It’s perfectly imperfect. ”
Raine’s smile was one he hadn’t seen before—at least not since she’d arrived.
And the way it reached her eyes made her seem almost like an angel.
She seemed to agree, so he turned his eyes back to the computer, determined to back up this copy so they could exit this charged space as soon as possible.
But that was when she rested her head on his shoulder and placed that thin hand on his forearm. “Thank you so much. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”
Oh, no. Touching him that way was the worst possible thing she could do, especially considering the turmoil roiling inside him.
“No,” he said, moving his chair back so her head was no longer on his shoulder, all while trying not to recoil as if she were on fire.
Gently, he took her hand and placed it on the counter.
“We need to keep this strictly professional.” He couldn’t help that his voice sounded far colder than he’d meant it to.
That message had been meant for him, not her.
But the look in Raine’s eyes almost killed him.
And he could read her like a book. She couldn’t understand what maybe felt like a sudden shift or possibly even rejection—but he wasn’t about to correct her.
For both their sakes, he had to keep his own shit reined in.
This—and this woman—was a line he could not cross.
For her. For both of them.
For just a moment, he considered telling her the truth, that it was him, not her—but that wouldn’t be a good idea. Talking about it would make it worse and possibly awkward. It didn’t matter what she thought, just so long as she kept that hard boundary between them.
“Uh…did I do something wrong?”
No, not at all. It’s what my insides are fucking doing.
“We just need to keep this professional. You’re here to work and nothing else.”
“Oh. Um…okay.” Pursing her lips, she stood. “Uh…then I guess we’re done now?” After he gave her a short nod, she asked, “Do you need me to do anything else today?”
Goddamn. He was a fucking asshole. Her heart was wide open and he’d just cut it. Well, at least it fit his reputation: once an asshole, always an asshole. And that was for the best. If she thought he was just another jerk, maybe she’d keep her distance.
And they could get this album in the can and go their respective ways.
“No. I think we’ve done enough work for the day.”
With another nod and her lips shut tight, she backed away before turning and leaving the control room before exiting the studio. And it was as if she’d taken the air with her.
After she left, he let his shoulders drop, letting the confusion flood his body. Fuck. That had been far too close…way too goddamned intense.
And where the hell had it come from? He’d done so well over the last several years maintaining his shit and keeping a steady, even keel.
No matter what his insides felt, he knew he couldn’t go there.
If you loved someone, you could lose them—and so it was better to not even go there in the first place.
But more than that, the truth he was hiding from…someone like Raine, he could ruin her completely, just like everything else he’d done in his miserable life.
No fucking way.
But his heart was refusing to take the message.
So Quentin knew there was only one way through that—and that was to relentlessly focus on work. So he pulled up his old second solo album, the one that would never see the light of day, and picked at it like he always did.
But this time he stayed up until far past midnight.