Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
How is everyone in this industry missing what is right in front of them?
“I’ve made you mad. I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure the guy is talented. I just know what it’s like to be put through the wringer when it comes to auditioning for labels and managers. It doesn’t matter how much talent you have, if you don’t show them everything you’ve got, they won’t sign you. He’s not showing everything he has. At least, he wasn’t when I saw him.”
Cash goes back into the recording booth, and we finish out the rest of his songs, but the whole time I’m thinking about Lyric.
It doesn’t make sense to me why others can’t see what I can. It’s clear something is holding him back, but I don’t know what.
We finish the final song that needs to get done, and while I suspect the label will send Cash back my way to fix minor things or redo a song in a different key or what-the-fuck-ever they’ll find to complain about, I know this will be it for a while.
Cash comes out of the booth and gives me a big hug, but before pulling away, he says in my ear, “It’s obvious you have a thing for the guy. Go for it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
He slaps the back of my head. “Stop complicating it.”
I grumble something unintelligible and walk Cash out.
I can’t ask my nanny out, but I do want to get to the bottom of why he’s getting nowhere with his career.
He said he doesn’t want my help, but fuck it, I want to help him. I see potential in him everyone else is clearly blind to. I want to draw that potential out of him and make him the next biggest act to hit the charts.
I just have to figure out how.
Chapter Ten
Lyric
I know it’s immature of me, but when I hear Ryder and Cash finish up in the studio, I decide I really need to check on Kaylee. I mean, she’s been asleep for two hours, but who knows? She might be choking on air or something. Just because it’s never happened doesn’t mean it won’t. I am a very thorough nanny.
When I hear Ryder’s voice calling for me, I finally leave Kaylee’s room.
“Checking on her,” I whisper. “I thought I heard a noise.”
“Would that noise happen to be a certain rock star leaving the house?”
Busted.
I ignore him and try to make my move to go back downstairs, but he steps in front of me.
Apparently, Ryder finds my mortification amusing. “Come on, it’s the best story ever. How often will you get to tell people you threw up on someone famous? I can see it now. In a few years, you’re going to be on some talk show and they’ll ask about the time you threw up on Cash Kingsley. It’s a great anecdote.”
He might have a point.
“Maybe. In a few years. You know, after I’ve died from embarrassment and can talk about it again.”
Ryder’s still entertained it seems. His smile is wide on his unfairly gorgeous face. “I want to propose something to you.”
My stupid heart hopes he’s going to ask me out.
Which I know won’t happen, but the hope is there anyway.
Because I like to torture myself with thoughts of things that are impossible.
“I want to produce a demo for you.”
Definitely not asking me out, but definitely not what I was expecting either. “A-a demo?”
“Cash told me about your set. You told me about your last audition. I’m failing to see what everyone else is missing. I heard something in you when you were singing with Kaylee.”
“To be fair, you heard one song. A kids’ song at that … Wait, did Cash say my set was shit?”
Do I really want him to answer that?
Thankfully, he doesn’t. I don’t know if I could handle knowing I not only made a fool of myself in front of Cash by drinking too much but that he thinks my music sucks too.
“There’s more to you as an artist than they’re seeing. I’m convinced of it. I know you’re against me helping you for whatever reason, but please, let me do this? We can do your sound, your voice, your style … I just want to help you get to the bottom of why you’re not getting anywhere when you have talent even I’m jealous of.”
Ryder Kennedy is jealous of … me.
That can’t be right.
I also can’t accept this.
“This feels wrong,” I say. “It’d be like using my job as your nanny to get a career in music, and I don’t want to compromise myself in that way.” I can’t.
Right?
“That’s not what this is,” Ryder says.
I want to say yes to this. I really, really want to. So why does it feel like saying yes would be selling part of my soul?
“It’s just an EP,” Ryder says. “You don’t even have to use it if you don’t want.”