Studio Sessions

FREYA

Despite my better judgment, and my brother’s warnings, I had decided to keep pretending to be Liam’s girlfriend.

I just didn’t imagine that our next public outing would happen so fast.

Within the hour, we were seated next to each other in the back of the limo, en route to his label’s recording studio.

When the car lurched to a stop, we were immediately bombarded by a flurry of bright flashes.

They were ready and waiting for Liam to make an appearance.

Lucinda had said they would have a field day when they saw that I was with him again.

I braced myself for the imminent onslaught of attention.

“You know,” I heard Liam murmur into my ear, “I think you should wear your hair down for the pictures. It’ll make it harder for them to capture your face.”

Suddenly, his hand moved around and pulled my hair free from the tie.

“I like it like that,” he said as I shook out my fiery mane.

I smiled. “Let’s go,” I said.

I was still reeling from his compliment as I tried to move toward the door, and my fastened seat belt threw me back into the leather.

“Sometimes, it helps to unbuckle first,” he said with a laugh, leaning over and releasing me.

I felt his breath dance across my exposed collarbone, and for a second I nearly forgot where we were.

I had an urge to grab him and pull him in closer to me.

But another bright flash from outside the car abruptly ended my fantasy.

Liam thrust open the door, grabbed my hand, and once again, we walked out into the sea of beastly lights.

As Liam moved us through the crowd, he was more jovial with the photographers than he was the night before.

“Tell us her name!” somebody shouted.

“Sorry, buddy,” Liam playfully replied, “I gotta protect my girl.”

~His girl.~

I didn’t ~hate~ the way that sounded.

When we stepped in the studio, the door closed behind us, muffling the noise from outside.

“Can they still see us?” I asked nervously.

Instead of a response, he just pulled me in and gently kissed my hair.

“I guess that’s a yes,” I mumbled, although I still wasn’t entirely sure…

But Liam pulled away from me suddenly when a man with sharp features and thinning hair appeared in the lobby, storming in our direction.

“There you are!” he shouted at Liam. “Where have you been?”

Before he let Liam answer his question, the man cut him off. “You know what? I don’t care. You’re an hour late and we have shit to do.”

It was only then that he seemed to notice my presence. “Who’s that?” he spat, as if my very existence somehow offended him.

“Freya,” Liam said. “She’s my—uh…” He let a long, painful pause linger in the air before finally saying, “My girlfriend.”

“~Her?~” the man scoffed before throwing his head back and breaking out into a full laugh.

I definitely didn’t get the joke.

“You’re shitting me, right?” the man chuckled, not yet fully recovered from his fit. “You gave up Jazelle for ~that~?”

He didn’t even look at me. He just flicked a dismissive hand in my direction.

“Excuse me, who do you think you are?” I demanded, feeling my temper rise, while Liam remained silent and motionless beside me.

“I’m Wyatt Newman, thank you for asking. And I am the manager to one of the biggest stars in the world,” he said, before raising an eyebrow to Liam. “I see you’ve gotten yourself a feisty one.”

“It’s publicity,” Liam said suddenly.

~Ouch.~

He wasn’t wrong, but his words still stung.

“Lucinda’s idea,” he added.

“You should find a new publicist if this is the best she’s coming up with these days,” Wyatt chided.

Liam looked at me apologetically, but did nothing more to protect me from Wyatt’s harsh words.

“But, whatever,” Wyatt said. “We don’t have time for all these niceties.”

~Niceties? Is this what he considers polite behavior?~

“The band is waiting in the tracking room,” Wyatt said. “Let’s go.”

With that, he took off in record speed down the hallway. Liam bolted after him and I followed.

When we arrived in the studio room, there was no band to be found.

On one side of a large window, there was a couch, several chairs, and a long table filled with an elaborate array of high-tech audio equipment.

On the other side, in the live room, were instruments and microphones.

“Shit,” Wyatt said. “They must have gone out for a smoke. I’ll grab them.”

And just like that, Liam and I were alone again.

“What is that guy’s problem?” I asked, unable to hide the distaste in my tone.

“He’s just stressed.” Liam shrugged. “He runs the whole business side of my life. He books my tours, my appearances, everything.”

“So…why do you feel the need to impress him if ~he~ works for ~you~?”

“What?” Liam sputtered. “I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

“It just seemed like you cared about his opinion a little ~too~ much.”

“Wyatt has been with me since the beginning,” Liam said, crossing his arms defensively. “He discovered me singing covers in a dingy bar in Brooklyn. I owe everything to him.”

“Fine,” I said, although I didn’t feel it.

With his arms protecting his chest like that, he seemed to also be putting an emotional barrier between us.

Before either of us could get another word in, the door to the control room opened again to reveal a striking man with long dark hair that tumbled to his shoulders in waves.

But that wasn’t what captured my attention most.

Rather, it was his bright hazel-green eyes.

They were beautiful.

But, for a reason I could not explain, also deeply unsettling.

“Well, if it isn’t Henderson’s new lady love,” he said in a silky voice.

The moment he addressed me, Liam’s composure completely changed. He dropped his stubborn posture and leaned in close to me.

“This is Jebadiah,” Liam said to me. “He’s the bassist in my band.”

“Call me Jeb,” the other man said with an unnerving smile.

I nodded, but then instantly froze when I felt Liam’s lips tugging gently on the lobe of my ear.

There were no cameras around to document it.

Rather, it seemed like Liam was putting on a show again. But this time it was like he was marking his territory.

I felt at once completely pissed off, but slightly turned on.

But I had to keep my cool, because a short girl with green punky hair appeared behind Jeb.

She was followed by another guy, short and stocky, with a buzzcut.

“Harriette’s the drummer,” Liam said.

“Call me Harri,” she said.

“And Raven’s our producer. He’ll be in this room with you.”

“I’m Freya,” I said to all of them.

Harri and Raven smiled. Jeb winked at me, maybe a little too flirtatiously.

“Let’s move, guys,” Wyatt said, weaseling his way through the door frame. “You need to rehearse.”

The band followed Liam into the recording booth, and the door closed behind them. Raven took his seat at the soundboard.

I watched through the window as Liam picked up his guitar, and his body morphed to fit it against him.

The extra tension that he always seemed to carry around with him slipped away.

And in his hands, the guitar appeared to be embedded with a life of its own.

I reached into my bag and pulled out my little sketchpad that I always carried with me. Then I migrated over to the couch and began drawing my view.

The room was chilly, and I pulled my knees up to my chest on the couch as I sketched Liam’s features.

It was easy to understand why he became famous.

He couldn’t walk into a room without being the center of attention. Liam was molded in the image of a Greek god and given the gifts of one too.

His voice was soothing, and I found myself getting lost in his tenor while my pencil kept moving along the paper.

Abruptly, my trance was ended at the sound of Jeb shouting crudely: “I GOTTA PISS.”

A moment later, he emerged into the control room and eyed me as he passed through into the hallway.

But I kept my gaze on Liam as his quick fingers tuned up the guitar, and he continued to strum it like it was begging to be touched.

~Jeez, Freya!~

~Get your mind out of the gutter!~

Jeb reappeared moments later, but before he reentered the booth, he stopped shortly in front of me.

“Hey,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Hey,” I replied.

I crossed my arms over my knees. I had goosebumps.

Was it because of the air conditioning blasting in the studio?

Or was it because of Jeb’s gaze?

I couldn’t be sure.

“You look cold,” he said. “Here.”

He started to peel off his jacket to reveal his muscular tattoo-covered arms.

“I’m fine, really,” I protested.

“Come on.” He smirked. “I want you to be better than fine.”

Before I could argue any more, he draped his heavy leather jacket on top of me.

I slipped it on as he rejoined the band.

The jacket smelled like stale cigarette smoke, but I had to admit that it did warm me up in the frigid studio.

Then the music started up again.

It was a sweet, simple song that didn’t sound too unlike a lullaby.

And sure enough, I drifted off to sleep.

***

I woke up disoriented. I had no idea how much time had passed, but suddenly Liam was standing over me, his face fuming with anger.

“What the fuck is ~that?~” he said, pointing at me.

I wiped some drool from the corner of my mouth and followed his accusatory finger.

“It’s a jacket,” I said when my eyes landed on his target.

“You weren’t wearing that when we got here,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s Jeb’s,” I replied casually, although the look in his eyes was anything but.

“Take it off,” he demanded.

I recoiled at the harshness of his words.

“Excuse me?” I shot back.

~So he still thinks he can boss me around like I’m his maid…~

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated.

I hadn’t seen him this mad since I painted on his white wall. He was clearly someone who ran hot and cold, not much in between. Still, that was no excuse to talk to me like a child.

I wanted to shout “no” and storm away from the controlling bastard, but then suddenly I spotted Jeb’s face on the other side of the pane of glass.

He was wearing a smug smile as he watched our interaction.

Had he created this whole situation on purpose to provoke Liam?

If so…he had obviously succeeded.

What was going on between the two of them?

And why was ~I~ in the middle of it?