Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2)(28)

I hope Kai’s watching because she’s up next.

She looks back at me from inside the booth, headphones looped around her neck. By now I know Kai like the first Bach symphony I ever learned. Literally I could play it half asleep. I anticipate Kai like my next heartbeat, and I can tell she’s nervous, though I doubt anyone else can.

“Let’s take it from the top of verse two, Kai,” I say through the system so she can hear me in the booth.

She nods and the track starts. From the first note I know this won’t go well. As much as I love her . . . because I love her . . . I can’t tolerate less than the best I’ve heard from her. She can do better. I feel Luke and the other engineers watching me, seeing if I’m going to give her special treatment because she’s my girl, or used to be, in their minds. They’ve seen me press until I hear from that booth what I’m hearing in my head.

“Hey, Kai,” I cut in over her singing. “You’re flat.”

She blinks a few times, her mouth dropping open.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I—”

“Lift your eyebrows.” I keep my tone impersonal. “You’re just barely under the note, especially at the top of the verse. I need that first note clarion clear. Dead on.”

“Okay. I can do that.” She adjusts the headphones, closes her eyes and waits for the track to begin again.

It’s still not what I’m looking for. I wrote this ballad before I met Kai, so to my ears, the lyrics about love lack a certain intimacy. I wrote about an idea of love. Kai brought it to life for me. The lyrics hold power if delivered properly, though.

“Still flat,” I interrupt, my voice sharpening with the impatience I always feel when an artist isn’t getting it. “And I need more from you. Tonally and in the delivery. It’s emotionally flat right now. Again.”

Kai looks back at me, crimson flooding her cheeks. She bites her lip and nods.

“Sorry. I-I’ll do better. Can we take it again from the middle of the verse?”

“No, we need to take it from the top. None of it was right.”

“Got it.” She lowers her lashes, pulling the chopsticks from her hair so it falls past her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Rhys.”

“I don’t need an apology. I need you on top of that note.”

She nods, the fine bones of her jaw clenching.

“Amber.” I turn to find her standing in the door, eyes wide, probably over the way I’m talking to the woman I introduced as my girlfriend not too long ago. “Go make that throat coat tea concoction for Kai. Her voice sounds ragged.”

Gus clears his throat and Luke shifts in the seat next to me.

“It’s not that bad, Rhys,” Luke says.

“Yeah, man. We can fix some of that in post,” Monty says. “Give her a break.”

“A break?” My voice whips at them both. “You want the first track you release to be mediocre and flat, Luke? Because right now that’s all she’s giving us. And, Gus, if you could stop admiring her for two minutes, you’d realize she’s a professional and can take direction. Or at least she usually can. I have no idea why she can’t tonight.”

“Your finger’s still on the button,” Luke whispers.

“What?” I look into the booth and realize that Kai heard everything I said. Hurt gathers in her eyes, but she looks down before I see it fully formed.

Shiiiiiit.

“Gimme ten.” I stand. “Grab a coffee, a blunt, whatever it takes you to survive me tonight. I think Marlon’s getting high over in Birch. Go keep him company.”

All three guys get up and head out, and I step into the booth. Kai doesn’t look up from the small square Persian rug she’s standing on. She slides her hands into her back pockets, waiting.

“I’m sorry about that.” I lean against the door, crossing one ankle over the other. “I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t know I was listening, so I know you meant it.” She finally looks at me, her eyes still hurt, but inlaid with resolve. “Just tell me how to fix it.”

“Vocal rest, for one.” I walk over to her, and unlike that time all those months ago in Grady’s studio, I don’t ask permission to touch her. I lay my hand against the muscles of her stomach with the ease of possession because now she’s mine.

“You’re not thinking about your breathing, so your phrasing is off.” My index finger strokes across her belly ring. “The phrasing is a huge part of the delivery on this song, so it’s not convincing. I don’t believe it.”

“Okay.” Her eyes fix on my finger still stroking the smooth skin at her waist. “That’s not helping my breathing.”

I smile, slipping my hand down her arm and over hers in her back pocket. I step closer, bending my knees until I can press our foreheads together.

“I’m sorry for being a jerk.”

“You’re not. You weren’t.” She shakes her head against mine. “You’re right. If I want to be a professional, I have to perform like one.”

“Yeah, you do.” I pull back, leveling a sober look at her. “Your voice is ragged, Kai. I know what you sound like rested. You need vocal rest.”

I brush a thumb over the dark circles under her eyes I didn’t notice yesterday when makeup camouflaged them.