Chapter Seventeen – Angel
The car ride to the recording studio was awkward, or at least it was for me. I sat in the back with Bishop, while Deacon sat with wireless headphones on in the front seat with Priest. Priest was driving, though he kept glancing in the rearview mirror at me. Ramona was supposed to meet us there.
Why were we all going? So the whole band could hear how Priest and I sounded together. It would help us to narrow down the choices of what songs we would redo and all that.
Honestly, my mind was still on what happened earlier. The whole almost-kissing-Deacon thing and then Bishop seeing us… and then me stupidly proclaiming I had never kissed anyone before.
Yeah, I had the feeling I’d come to regret that slip-up.
The recording studio had its own garage beneath it, along with guards who kept out the riffraff and the paparazzi. The guard recognized Priest and let us in. Ramona was already waiting for us, her car parked in an empty row. Priest parked beside her.
“Good, you’re here,” Ramona said as we got out. Her wild hair was pulled back today, and she wore ripped jeans and a suit jacket over a dark gray blouse. She had her phone in her hand, as always. “Just got word the studio double-booked this afternoon, so we’ll have to be out by two.”
I checked my phone. That was in three hours.
Ramona led us into the building, and I tried not to stare as we walked inside. From the parking garage, you entered a hall, which then brought you to the lobby, where a thirty-something man was working behind a desk. The walls were decked out in album art and plaques. I tried to get a good look of one, but Ramona hurried us along after checking in with the receptionist.
We filed onto an elevator, and then we went upstairs. It must be the same place Ramona always booked, because she knew exactly where to go. Eventually we stopped before a closed door, and she held it open for us, ushering us inside.
The room was dark. A few chairs sat in the back, along with one near a soundboard or whatever it was called. That soundboard was in front of a big window of glass, where you could see inside the recording room. To get inside the recording room, you had to walk through another door. It was completely closed off, no windows, nothing.
“You two, in there, do your warm-up,” Ramona ordered. “I don’t want to waste any time.”
It was Priest’s turn to take the lead, and he made a big show about leading the way to the door to the recording room. He opened it for me and then bowed. “This way, my lady.”
I rolled my eyes at him as I walked by.
Priest had his own set of vocal warm-ups, while I did whatever warm-ups my high school choir teacher had taught us. Nothing too special, just some stuff to warm up your voice, get it going, help you a little with range. You didn’t want to jump right into it, otherwise you might make your voice box a little sore.
A few minutes passed, and then Ramona hit some button on the soundboard. Her voice came through speakers somewhere, “Did you get the list I sent you? Those are the songs I want to hear. If there’s any more you want to add, we can do those at the end.”
I looked at Priest, who pulled out his phone. List? I didn’t see anything about a list. My heart skipped a beat. With Ramona, Bishop, and Deacon in the other room, the last thing I wanted to look like was an idiot.
Priest looked at me, and something on my face must’ve told him I didn’t get any list, because he came over to me and handed me his phone. It was an email. Of course. I’d have to learn to check my email more often, I guess.
I scanned the title list, recognizing the songs. I’d listened to Black Sacrament’s entire catalog on repeat since arriving, basically training for this moment. Still, I had no sheet music, no notes, nothing in front of me. All I had was my own memory.
“How are we supposed to do this?” I asked. “These songs weren’t made to be duets.” I glanced between Ramona and Priest. In front of us stood two microphones, and on their poles hung two headphones.
Ramona must’ve heard me, because she said, “Just pretend you’re Pope and sing. Getting parts down will come later. I want to hear what you got.”
I stood there, motionless, kind of freaking out about this, wondering if it was a mistake—if the whole damned thing was a mistake—and I was so lost in my own thoughts that I neglected to realize Priest had picked up my pair of headphones.
His tall figure stood before me, and he gave me a lopsided smile. “You’re going to do just fine, Angel,” he told me, and then he put the headphones onto my head. He let his gaze linger on me for a few more seconds, and then he put on his own.
Let’s just say… it was a learning process. As the day wore on, I understood why Ramona had wanted more time in the studio. Singing in front of people who were watching you and listening—it wasn’t like choir class. It wasn’t like singing in my room. It wasn’t even like my dreams.
It was awkward. At least it felt awkward to me. I had to close my eyes just to make it feel less weird.
Priest must’ve sensed how awkward I felt, because when we were in the middle of singing one of Black Sacrament’s most popular songs, The Devil in You, something warm slipped around my hand and squeezed.
I opened my eyes to see Priest had inched closer, and that warm thing? It was his hand. He was holding my hand, wordlessly telling me I was doing fine. Comforting me without saying a single word. And the look he was giving me… it was like the rest of the room didn’t exist, like Ramona and Bishop and Deacon weren’t out there, watching and listening. It was just us.
Who knew focusing on Priest would help so much? Who knew that, just like that, I’d forget all about how annoyed I’d been with his comments earlier today? Priest could be infuriating, but right now the only thing he did was calm me, ground me, and keep me rooted in reality.
I could do this.
And so I sang my little heart out, not only wanting to do Cleo proud, but also the man who was my lifeline by holding onto my hand.
We didn’t get to do any songs Bishop wanted to hear. It took us longer to get through Ramona’s list than we anticipated. It was about one fifty when Ramona got a call, so she left to answer it. It was okay. I had to use the restroom anyway. Plus, my feet kind of hurt from standing in one spot for so long without moving, so I needed to get out of there.
I had to turn down another long hall to find a restroom. A unisex room with only one toilet, but it worked. After doing my business, I washed my hands. I didn’t mean to glance up at my reflection, but I did, and what I saw was a girl whose face was flushed but whose appearance was otherwise happy.
Singing with Priest had been weird at first, but then it got better. His hand-holding probably helped, but at the end there, I could easily imagine us both on stage, rocking out and having fun.
Because that’s what performing was about, right? Having fun?
Maybe that was naive of me.
I splashed some water onto my face to cool off. Singing with Priest was… I wanted to say it was awkward, but it was only awkward in that we had an audience. Actually, singing with him was nicer than I’d thought. Granted, I hadn’t heard what we sounded like together as an audience member, but from the inside, I think we did a good job, considering we’d never sang with each other before.
I could see why girls went crazy for lead singers, especially when they looked like Priest. Slap a creepy mask on him, a bit of paint, and dress him in all black? He was every girl’s devil, the one they dreamed about at night, hunting them through the dark woods, giving chase and then taking everything he wanted from you once he caught you. He was definitely good enough to take Pope’s place in center stage.
Once I was cooled off, I dried my face and my hands and left the restroom. I might’ve made a wrong turn here and there, but after a few minutes, I found my way back to the recording room. The door was ajar by an inch or so, and I was seconds from pushing inside when I heard voices that stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Come on.” That was Bishop’s voice. “You were holding onto her damn near the entire time. And the way you were looking at her while you were singing—even Ramona picked up on the vibes between you two.”
“Vibes?” Priest’s voice, along with a throaty chuckle. “Believe me, there are no vibes. None at all.”
“Really? See, I find that hard to believe—” There was that jealous tone again. Maybe it wasn’t in my head. Maybe Bishop really was jealous…
Whatever triumphant feeling that swelled in me as I realized that died the moment Priest said, “I could have any girl I want. What makes you think I want her ? She’s not really my type. Bro, she’s never even been kissed. That’s fucking weird—”
My hand fell away from the door. It shouldn’t hurt me to hear him say any of that, but it did. It did, and I had to fight the stinging in my eyes. I refused to tear up over some mean, spiteful words. It wasn’t like I had a crush on any of them, so I didn’t care what they thought about me or what they said behind my back.
At the same time, I also didn’t want to go back into that room. I’d go down the parking garage and wait by the car, tell them I wasn’t feeling well if they asked.
Yeah, that’s what I’d do.
I turned away from the door and started down the hall, but the moment I did, I saw Deacon coming back, carrying a bag of something he must’ve gotten from a vending machine or lunch room somewhere.
I thought I was passable, but I guess my face must’ve shown just how hurt I was, because the second we locked eyes, Deacon’s feet stopped, and he stared at me like I’d grown a second head, or a third eye.
Swallowing, I broke our staring contest by angling my head down as I hurried around him. Deacon slipped off his headphones and called after me, “You okay?” But I didn’t stop and I didn’t answer him. I kept going.
I needed fresh air. I needed to get away from them. God, this sucked. Right when I think I can do this, that I could be a team with these guys… it’s like we took one step forward and two steps back.
Once I found the elevator, I let out a long, slow breath as I tried to calm myself down.
I shouldn’t be hurt. I shouldn’t give a crap about what those guys say. But I was hurt, and I did care. Maybe wanting us to be friends was a childish, naive hope.
Within five minutes, I was in the parking garage beneath the studio, leaning on Priest’s sleek black car. I texted Ramona and told her I’d overheated in that room and needed some air, so I’d gone outside. She’d tell the guys, so I wouldn’t have to, and when they came out here, we could all move on. Hopefully Deacon wouldn’t tell them I’d been eavesdropping.
Then again, there was no way Deacon could know what I’d heard. Unless the guys told him what they were talking about…
Ugh. I guess I’d have to wait for them to come out and see if they said anything. If they didn’t say anything, then it was all good. They wouldn’t know what I’d overheard, and I wouldn’t start to think we were actually friends.
Ramona texted back within minutes, and she said, That’s fine. We’re done anyway. Good work today. I’ll send over the songs once they’re fixed up to get an idea of what we want to do with them.
I blinked. Well, maybe I spoke for myself, but I couldn’t wait to hear the songs with our voices spliced together.
Please note my use of sarcasm, because that statement had some heavy sarcasm added onto it. After hearing Priest and Bishop talking, the last thing I wanted to listen to was Priest’s and my voices.
Five minutes later, the guys approached. Priest wore his signature smirk, though I tried not to stare at him too hard. Wouldn’t want him to think I was falling head over heels for him with my dusty, ugly, virgin self.
Deacon watched me but didn’t say a word. Bishop, on the other hand, furrowed his brows and asked, “Are you not feeling okay?”
It was as we got into the car that I lied, “I just got a little hot in there and had to come out to cool myself down. I’m good now.” I buckled my seatbelt and met Bishop’s eyes, and then I gave him a smile even though it was fake.
In the front seat, Deacon tossed me a glance, along with a look that said he knew I was lying.
“What a workout,” Priest mused. “I’m feeling like pizza. Anyone else feeling like pizza? We did skip lunch, and you know I get hangry when I skip lunch.”
Hangry. I didn’t know if that was the word I’d use to describe him.