Chapter 30 #2
I respond with a beaming smile.
“By the way, my twin sister is a huge fan,” Jimmy says. “She knows your lyrics and moves by heart. She died when I told her I was probably going to touch your hand.”
I can’t help laughing.
“Jimmy, stop distracting the model.” Flint’s voice booms in the studio. “We’re going for deep, introspective and soulful. Not comical or laugh out loud.”
“I’m sorry, Flint,” Jimmy says. His dark brown eyes meet mine. “Not sorry.” He says that in a whisper. “I get to tell my twin I made the Keira Weatherly laugh. That’ll earn me a medal. At least, her undying respect and admiration.”
I bite the inside of my mouth not to laugh again.
Jimmy is funny.
Flint’s eyes lowering to my feet. “Who’s responsible for the heels?”
Worried he doesn’t like them, I do the same.
I think they’re kickass.
“I am.” A girl with black hair and bleached blonde bangs raises her hand.
“Pure genius. I fucking love them.”
Flint approves.
She responds with a relieved smile.
When the stylist with the edgy hair and the retro black glasses, told me the price of these babies, my jaw dropped. As gorgeous as they are, the Jimmy Choo heels covered in Swarovski crystals with a prominent cluster at the front are a bit rich for my blood.
Flint snaps his fingers. “Hair and makeup, I want a touch up.”
The two men responsible for my sophisticated transformation rush my way.
A little hair flopping here.
A little shine reducing powder there.
Another application of mascara on my lashes, followed by another coat of scarlet red lipstick on my lips.
I’m ready.
“Jimmy. Headphones.” Flint claps.
Jimmy comes running with a pair of colorful SCORE Yours with a colorful graffiti design.
He places them with care over my ears and adjusts them.
He gives me two thumbs up.
I nod.
I must admit, I’m a little giddy now.
I search the studio and find Rhys standing to the side, arms crossed over his wide chest. His eyes shine with something I can’t quite describe. Admiration?
I blush.
Flint claps. “Are we ready, people?”
With the headphones on, his voice isn’t as piercing.
A collective ‘yes and ready’ float around the room.
“I need to see, people.” Flint snaps his fingers.
Bright lights spark in front of me.
Blinded, I blink and shield my eyes with my hand.
“Christian.” Flint points to a guy wearing a purple shirt with a floral print. “Video?”
“We’re rolling,” Christian says.
“We’re good to go.” Flint approaches me. “Jimmy, I need you to remove the headphones for a minute.”
The photographer’s assistant does as he’s told, placing them around my neck.
“Let me set the stage,” Flint says. “You’re listening to that song.”
I frown my confusion as I lean forward. “Um… which song are we talking about?”
“Oh, I can’t tell you that because it’s your song.” He points at me. “Not my song.” He points to his chest. “Mine would be very different.”
Could he be more cryptic?
“It’s the song that touches your soul. But because you’re listening to it with your brand new SCORE Yours headphones, melodic nuances you’ve never heard before come pouring through and cut even deeper because the bass is badass.”
Was that English?
“I thought I was supposed to sit here, and you were going to take photos,” I say. “I’m not trying to be a smart ass. I’m unsure of what you expect of me.”
I look to Rhys for support.
He doesn’t intervene.
“I don’t want another pretty face,” Flint says. “I want your pretty face to tell a story.”
I tilt my head to the side.
“Let me explain what I mean.” I guess thoughts carry.
“I want feelings. I want emotions,” he says in a soft voice.
Since stepping into his studio, this is the first time he’s not shouting.
“When the photos hit the internet, I want people to be so enthralled, so moved, they’ll be compelled to drop everything to figure out how to get their hands on a pair of SCORE Yours.
This is the spice that was missing from their mundane lives.
I want these photos to create a frenzy. Pandemonium, even. ”
That’s a tall order.
“Okay.” I nod.
“Dig deep, Keira.”
“I can do that.”
“We’re dealing with a professional, people.” There he goes shouting again. “Let’s get this puppy on the road.” Flint swirls his fingers in a circle above his head. “Jimmy! Headphones!”
The tall black guy with the huge grin stretching his lips places the headphones over my ears, and winks.
I try hard not to giggle.
Flint goes to stand behind the camera and looks through the lens, then back up. He does that a few times. “And… emotions!”
For the next several long minutes, Flint snaps shots while I sit there trying to go through the catalogue of songs in my head to find the one that touches my soul.
It’s not like I don’t have a million songs stored in my head.
I do. After all, I’m a singer, but right now, with everything going on around me, the best I can come up with is a mashup. And not even a good one at that.
Being a model is so much pressure.
“I’m not feeling it,” Flint says looking up from the camera. He approaches me. “Did you find that song yet?”
Panic sets in.
My eyes move to Rhys.
Oh, no. I’m going to let him down.
Shit.
“It took me a minute, but I did.”
Think faster, Keira.
“Now we’re going somewhere,” Flint says. “You need to feel the song, so you’ll sing it instead of letting it play in your head.”
I pull the headphone away from one ear. “Wh—what? You want me to sing out loud?”
“You have a gorgeous voice—”
“My pop princess days are behind me.” I didn’t mean for my tone to be that sharp.
“Nobody’s asking you to sing a meaningless bubblegum song,” he says. “I asked for a song that moves your soul. Something your heart connects with. I want to read that connection on your face.”
Okay, maybe my nerves are affecting my hearing.
I steal another glance at Rhys.
He’s leaning against the wall with his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, one foot crossed over the other at the ankle.
He holds my gaze for a long beat and then nods.
“All right,” I say. “Fair warning. Since it’s a cappella, I might be off key.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Flint’s words surprise me.
“Is it okay if I start with my eyes closed?”
The audience is a little too intimate.
“You do whatever it takes,” Flint says.
“Okay. Thanks.”
I scrap the paltry mashup in my head and zero in on an emotional rollercoaster of a song I’ve not dared to sing in a very long time.
“I’m ready.” I respond with a firm nod.
“Take it away,” Flint says.
With the headphone back in place, I hum the opening.
When I belt out the first verse, I choke up.
God, that song gets me every time.
“That’s the song,” Flint says.
I try again.
I go at it almost tentative at first. The tremolo in my voice is audible, and I’m swept away by the emotions.
The lyrics to the poignant song I selected grip my guts.
It’s more like a desperate plea than a song, really.
Maybe that’s why the song has been imprinted in my soul since the first time I saw the video clip.
It’s the type of heart-wrenching song my former record company would’ve frowned upon and prevented us from performing because in their eyes, silly and vapid pop songs are an easy sell.
I have a good voice, but I’m no blue-eyed soul songstress, as they loved to remind me.
I open my eyes.
Flint snaps away as he moves in front of me in a half circle.
I catch a glimpse of my captive audience and smile. I place my hands over the headphones, bringing them closer to my ears, closing my eyes and returning to the safety of my imaginary bubble by shutting the world out.
I sing louder.
I go deeper.
I go raw.
I don’t hold back.
Tears heat my closed eyelids, but I won’t allow them to escape.
Not yet.
When I hit the bridge, I’m lost in ‘When We Were Young’.
I sing for Chelle.
I sing for Henley.
I sing for the girl in me who’s never been loved by her own mother.
I sing for the girl who’ll never know her father.
I sing for the girl who thinks she’s a failure.
I sing for the girl who thinks she has nothing to offer.
I sing for the girl who tries so hard to pretend everything washes over her.
Tears stream down my face and my voice breaks, but I don’t stop singing.
I can’t.
This is me—the real Keira—imperfections, fuckups, mistakes, fears, baggage, and all.
I have no desire to hide who I am.
I no longer have to.
When I reach the last note, I have no more tears to cry.
I sit there, absorbing all the thoughts I rarely allow to escape from their glass bottle—realities that would crush me if I allowed it.
I lower the headphones, feeling like I’m suffocated.
My eyes are still closed.
I need to catch my breath.
It’s dead silent around me.
Am I alone on the set?
Strong hands cup my cheeks.
My eyes fly open.
Rhys.
The man I’ve always loved.
I’ll never love anyone else like I love him. Never.
But I’m not brave enough to tell him.
He offers me a warm smile.
Myriad emotions veil his glacier-blue eyes.
“That was fucking amazing,” he says. Goosebumps blanket my arms. “Where have you been hiding that voice? And more importantly, why have you been hiding it?”
I answer with a one-shoulder shrug before bursting into tears.
“Oh, baby, you dug deep,” he says in a whisper.
I nod.
He captures my lips in an all-encompassing kiss.
“And… passion!”
As if Rhys and I take a cue from Flint, the kiss grows deeper, blazing every cell in my body.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Flint says.