Broken Record

Chapter 8: Stevie

"Hey, Stevie," Cortland appeared in the elegant lobby, his belly straining slightly against his belt. "Welcome to Pacific Records for the next six months." His tone exuded wary excitement. He knew the producers and the artists were going to love working with this extremely gifted young woman but he also watched her like a wild animal, unsure of how she might react.

"So, are you like my boss?" Stevie stood from her chair, shrugging her leather backpack up her shoulder.

"I suppose..." Cortland's tone faded as he thought for a moment, "but we all report to Mr. West at the end of the day," Cortland laughed and the sound was almost jolly in nature. "Well, unless you're Jelena Kingston. She only answers to her momager." Cortland winked and Stevie tilted her head in distaste at the mention of the world's biggest popstar and her terrifying stage mother. The tabloids had not been kind to Jelena's personal life. Cortland started making his way back down the hall through which he came.

"I don't usually spend much time in the recording studios as you can imagine. Most of my days are filled with contracts and terms and meetings with artists management. That's how I like it. But, seeing as your unique working situation overlaps largely into my legal domain, I'll be a little more involved," Cortland looked at Stevie and his voice was friendly with an undertone of warning that he figured was probably unnecessary at this point. "We will sign some papers and then I'll take you to Aero's soundroom.

"Aero?" Stevie's voice lifted, a sparkling electricity dancing in her unusually pale green eyes.

"Yes. He was very impressed with you. Wants your help with a new single he's working on," Cortland opened a large metal door and indicated for Stevie to head in, her frame small enough to fit well under his arm. "I don't know what it is about that guy, but women are just obsessed with him. Who knew, neck tattoos..." Cortland was largely muttering to himself as he pulled some paperwork from a desk drawer and slid it toward Stevie. She wanted to explain that she wasn't at all interested in Aero in that way. She was simply a huge fan of his talent.

"Alright, MarLow, time to sign the rest of your life away. Literally." Stevie didn't miss the sense of satisfaction in Cortland's face at his words. He may be kind to her now, seeing as he was in control of her talent that could bring the company even more money than it's bloated bank accounts already had, but she didn't forget the coarse way he'd first addressed her back in the interrogation room. She could tell this man was honest and transparent, unlike Benton. But he was also a brute. A brute in a suit, she thought. The term brought a slight giggle to her lips, confusing Cortland as she signed the papers in the indicated spaces, scanning the terms to see them written out exactly as she'd discussed with Benton in his office last week. Stevie thought to herself as she signed, bye bye creative renegade-hood and hello corporate world. Let's hope this keeps me from prison or I would've sold my soul for nothing.

After signing, Cortland led her down another hallway that began to transform from elegant corporate office to an artist's zone. Stevie felt instantly more comfortable here, the black velvet walls and random mix of bold artwork mirroring the moody, chaotic energy within her. This was definitely more her speed. When Cortland stopped at a door and checked the recording light to see if they could enter, Steveie's heart thumped into overdrive. She knew she still hated the music industry, the corrupt way they were able to own the charts and determine what made a hit and what didn't. But they also had the best equipment. State of the art systems that put her creation-station to shame. Her fingers itched to have a chance to use them. All the dials and mixers like a kid in a candy shop. The light outside the studio door went from red to white and Cortland opened it to let them both in.

Aero was sitting at the control station, his hoodie covering his head, misshapen by the massive headphones he had on underneath. He didn't immediately turn when they came in and Cortland brusquely pointed to a sleek leather couch at the back wall, indicating for Stevie to go on and take a seat. Then he left as roughly as he'd come in and she was all alone with Aero.

"Hi," her voice was bright but timid. She was too excited to wait until he made the first move.

"Oh, shit," Aero turned and pulled off his headphones, a smile spreading on his handsome face, "Didn't see you come in, what's up Stevie?" He rolled his chair towards her, lifting his fist in greeting. With his hoodie slid down, she could see the dense pathwork of tattoos that crawled up his neck, and images of him on album covers and magazines flooded through her mind. Legal troubles aside, her work had landed her in a room with this legend. She felt her pride and confidence flood back.

"I heard you made a deal with the devil," Aero pulled a beer from a fridge next to the sound station. He somehow managed to get the top off by hitting the bottom of the bottle hard on his knee.

"The devil?"

"Benton West," Aero took a healthy pull of his beer and then waved Stevie over to come next to him instead of on the couch.

"Is that what people call him?" Benton's cold, handsome face flashed across her mind, and she saw the angry, fiery look in his eyes when she'd arrived late that morning. Still, something about him seemed too aloof and devoid of emotion to be the devil. He was a different kind of intimidating.

"Something like that," Aero pulled up a track on his computer screen, "play this back and tell me what you think." He handed Stevie a pair of massive leather headphones that probably cost more than her entire suite of musical equipment combined. She slid them over her much smaller head and listened. Then she listened again, and a few more times.

"The overall pace is too singular. Increase the bass tempo on the refrain and then drop it once the chorus kicks in. Sharply." Stevie's voice was certain. She was in her element, even if that element had been insanely upgraded to a sound studio at Pacific Records.

"Really?" Aero wasn't offended, just curious. He played around with some of the delicate controls, taking Stevie's advice as directed. Then he played the track back out loud, the room vibrating with its fullness. "Holy shit." Aero nodded appreciatively, guzzling the rest of his beer, "that's fucking good. What else do we need to change?"

Stevie felt on fire as she and Aero went to work on the track, her entire being focused on the music and making unexpected twists and turns throughout the song that somehow came together fluidly. Doing this for the next six months? As long as she pretended she wasn't working for the corporate enemy, she'd be enjoying the hell out of herself.

"Fuck, this may even go to a billion streams. One down, two to go right?" Aero raised his eyebrows at her, his shaved head making them appear even more prominent on his face.

Stevie smiled a mischievous grin, transforming her doll face into something even more ethereal, majestic. She looked between Aero and the control board. "Maybe even the devil himself will be impressed," she rolled her chair over to the minifridge and pulled out a Redbull. The world of Benton West seemed impossibly far away as she lost herself to the rest of afternoon, working side by side with Aero on the track.