Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
George closes the door and the car starts moving, as if we’re just gliding on ice. It’s incredible. When we pull up before the towering Phoenix Records building—multiple stories high, its name glowing in giant letters—I can’t help staring. I had no idea Travis had done something like this with his life, and I can’t help but feel bad that we didn’t get to share it with each other sooner.
“Wow. I’ve never seen this place,” I breathe as George helps me out. “I can’t believe he did all of this.”
He nods. “It’s a beauty. Head inside, ask reception for Travis. He’s expecting you.”
Inside the lobby, glossy white tiles and pale walls stretch out beneath a wide wooden desk. A pretty young blonde receptionist looks up at me like I’m interrupting her nap. I’ve seen more energy come from a ninety-year-old woman than this girl. Gosh, Travis really needs to hire better, more enthusiastic staff.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Travis. I’m Violet.”
She sizes me up, scrunching up her nose. “Fine. Take a seat. I’ll call him.”
Fifteen endless minutes later she points to the elevator and dismisses me with a grunt. I press the top-floor button and steel myself. When the doors open, I'm hit with the unmistakable buzz of a record label in full swing. Assistants hurry past with coffee trays and stacks of promotional materials. Marketing teams huddle around mock-ups of album covers, pointing at font choices and color schemes.
Through a glass wall, I glimpse the heart of it all: a state-of-the-art recording studio where sound engineers hunch over mixing boards studded with blinking lights, adjusting levels while three young women in headphones stand clustered around microphones, rehearsing harmonies for what could be tomorrow's hit single.
“Hello, can I help you?” A kind voice at my elbow. I turn to see a friendly woman—she’s older, maybe in her forties, and has soft blond hair and kind blue eyes.
“I’m here for Travis...”
“Ah, you must be Violet.” She smiles. “Right this way.”
I don’t even have time to process before Travis himself appears, stepping out of a dark-wooden door. He’s wearing black jeans, and a white shirt that is unbuttoned at the top and rolled at his elbows. He looks professional, and yet also like a rockstar. How he manages both, I don’t know, but fuck he’s perfect.
“Hey,” I say, my voice far huskier than I would like.
Why does he have this effect on me.
“Lucy, thanks, I’ll take it from here.” His assistant lingers, eyes shining. I grin, my cheeks already warm.
“Mischief,” he murmurs, eyes raking over me. “How are you doing?”
“Much better now,” I admit.
He takes my hand. “Come on, I’ve got so much to show you.”
Warmth floods me, and I am so happy with the fact that he has chosen to bring me here and show me what matters most to him.
We slip into the control room. The three girls peer at us through the glass, engineers tweak sliders and knobs. I watch in awe. How incredibly overwhelming and amazing it must be to stand in there, knowing your whole world just might change by the time you’re done.
“It’s cool, right?” Travis asks.
“Yeah,” I breathe.
He calls out to the singers. They file out, leaving only Rose. Travis goes in and stands next to her. She’s beautiful, with long black hair and perfect white skin. She looks like a doll, with her sparkling blue eyes. It’s clear that she is nervous, she seems less into it than the other singers and scared to let herself come right out of her shell.
“You want to be a singer?” Travis asks her.
She nods, swallowing.
“Are you nervous?”
She exhales. “I feel like I get drowned out by the others and so I make my voice small, because they’re just so good...”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Yes.”
“You outshine them. I say that not to bring them down, they are incredible, but you, Rose, are the star. I know it, you just have to let yourself go. So, we’re going to sing together, and you’re going to pretend nobody else is here and show me what you’ve really got.”
She flushes as he cues the music. He starts singing, light and compelling, and my heart does backflips. Rose joins him, her voice pure. It takes her a moment to let go, but when she does, her voice brings the whole room to a complete pause. She is incredible. Together, they blend perfectly. When they finish, everyone is silent.
“Wow,” I whisper.
Then everyone erupts into applause. Rose flushes and hugs Travis, and when he comes back, he is grinning. “See that, that’s why I do it.”
“She is incredible,” I breathe. “Oh, wow.”
After half an hour of getting her singing with the other girls, Travis steals me away and leads me to his office. We walk in, and I look around at the sleek black desk dominating the center of the room. Platinum records line the walls between framed vintage concert posters.