Broken Record

Chapter 9: Benton

Benton didn't like the recording studios. It wasn't that he minded the dark, creative nature of the spaces. He was well aware of the benefits on productivity and the overall inherent vibe these studios created for the artists, producers, and managers under his employ. But his presence was always an alarming surprise in the studios. Everytime he entered one and made his way to the back wall, leaning as innocuously as he could considering who he was, a hushed silence fell over the space. Benton didn't like that kind of awareness. He liked the kind of awareness that put him at a distance. That had him seemingly floating from one boardroom to another. Black car, private plan, expensive hotel, boardroom, repeat. It was isolating, which was how he liked it. Here among his artists, the lifeblood of the label, it was like a feared leader getting caught in an intimate space among his followers. It was unpredictable and impolite. Two of Benton's biggest pet peeves because they were hard to control.

He walked down the long hallway, ignoring the stares and hushed whispers. It had been another long day, finally nearing 7:00 PM. But most of the artists were just arriving, preferring to work in the studios late into the night and sleep in until noon. For any average music fan, they'd balk at the level of celebrity skirting through the halls, having no idea who Benton was. But the hierarchy of fame was completely flipped inside the walls of Pacific Records. He kept his gaze cold and aloof, acknowledging others with only the faintest nod.

Benton entered the sound studio without saying a word. The vibrations from the music could be felt in the hallway and they filled the space of the dark, insulated room, glittering with electrical lights from the control table. Benton was surprised to find Stevie alone. He expected Aero to be present as well. She'd been at the label for two weeks and during that time he'd barely seen her. His schedule was demanding as hell and typically never led him to the studios. Unless he made a dedicated effort, as he had this evening.

Stevie's head was bowed over the controls, her blonde head moving rhythmically from side to side, humorously dwarfed by the massive headphones she was wearing. Benton made his way to the back wall, leaning casually between two noise cancelling panels, his pale blue dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and his perfectly quaffed hair a bit unruly, as a few thick light brown strands fell out of place after a long day.

Even sitting, Stevie seemed to radiate energy. Her body was coiled, wound tight and small but still powerful. She was completely engrossed in her task, becoming an extension of the production editing equipment itself. She removed her headphones but kept her gaze forward, blaring the music out through the speakers even louder, listening attentively. When the track ended she reached for the headphones again.

"It's too fast," Benton broke the silence of the room, his voice slicing sharply through the small space. Stevie swiveled around in her chair, her breath leaving in a short gasp and her eyes going wide. Benton's face didn't show anything. He stalked over slowly, keeping a healthy distance between himself and Stevie as he stared down at the myriad of dials and sliders. "I don't know which one of these you should adjust," Benton gestured causally, "but you need to slow it down. Give people a chance to get into the song before they lose themselves to it. Right now, it's running out ahead of them." Benton's words were solid. Not critical but assessing.

Stevie looked at him but quickly focused her attention back on the controls. She adjusted a few dials and played back the track again. It was slower, leaving more room for the build. She listened attentively, trying to not be phased by the supposed devil standing next to her. After the track had finished, neither of them moved.

"Better," Benton nodded, glancing briefly at Stevie before looking at his watch. His expression shifted, something like a resolution marking his features. "Let's see if it hits one billion." Stevie looked up at him, fully taking him in. There wasn't a trace of cynicism in his statement, no sign that he wanted her to fail. But she still knew she was being tested. That anything involving this strange and aloof man was some sort of test.

"Why settle at one billion? Let's go for two." Stevie's eyes flickered brightly and Benton stared a moment too long before turning to leave the studio.

"Confidence is one thing, MarLow, results is another." Benton shifted like was going to leave the studio, which he had planned to do since he was already late for his evening session, but he stood planted, Stevie's expression indicating that she had a sharp retort or remark on the tip of her tongue.

"What do you like about music?" Stevie's eyes glittered, her voice breathless. Her question caught Benton off guard and he glanced down for a moment before responding.

"I've never really liked music per se. I mean, I like music just as anyone else does," he looked over at Stevie, "but I guess it's really more the control, the game, that I've enjoyed. I'm not a musician myself. That's not my talent." Stevie nodded like she already knew his answer. Benton turned to leave.

"Wait!" Stevie swiveled her chair and Benton turned to face her with one hand on the studio door handle, his face impatient but curious.

"What?"

"Do you know that people call you the devil?" Benton stared at Stevie for what felt like forever before a smirk came over his face.

"Get back to work, Stevie." She heard the soft click of the studio door closing.