Page 15 of One More Bad Boy

Since my father.

Brushing a hand over my mouth, I turned towards the elevator. “Then let's get to it.”

****

The recording studiowas the most expensive room in the whole building.

Amina was behind the thick glass like some majestic butterfly I'd captured. Was I going to set her free, or pin her up on display? I didn't know. I hoped her performance would help me decide.

“Is it necessary to sabotage her like this?” Violet asked. "That's what you're doing. You must know that."

Amina touched the mic, adjusting it to her height while fiddling with the headset. She lifted her eyes to mine; I smiled at her, talking to my VP as I did. "We have one month until the awards. You want to try and teach someone the ropes? If she can't handle a spontaneous show, she'll fall apart in a week out here. Let's figure that out now."

"I still say it's going too far." Violet waved briskly at the singer. "Is it just me, or does she seem really comfortable in there?"

I glanced at the red-head. "Do you know if she's ever recorded anything before, beyond those little videos?"

She shrugged. "I searched for her online, didn't get any hits."

That was good to hear. Launching a new face was always easier than someone who'd made a name for themselves by failing over and over again. Bending forward, I pushed a button on the dashboard in front of me. It opened a connection between us and Amina's headset. "You ready?"

Clasping the headset, she nodded vigorously. "You want me to sing anything in particular?"

My smile was more of a smirk. "Whatever your heart desires. Pick something, I'll put some background music on for you."

She bit the edge of her lip. "No. No music."

Violet and I shared a look. She mouthed, "Acoustic?" at me. I gave her a shrug similar to the one she'd offered me earlier.

"Okay then," I said. "You're all set, Amina." Closing the connection, I sat back in the chair... and waited.

The room had a reddish glow. Amina was a living ruby, a piece of treasure meant to be plucked and held close.Or she's made of plastic,I warned myself. Pretty things sometimes weren't worth a dime.

More than anything, I wanted this girl to prove she was as good as I hoped.

As good as I fuckingneededher to be.

In my lap, I'd unconsciously linked my fingers. It looked like I was praying. I saw Violet staring at me from the corner of my eye, but before I could ease up and appear calmer than I was, Amina began to sing.

I forgot I even had hands, after that.

"Whispers," she sighed into the mic. "Fools and ghosts and me in the middle."

All of the air left my lungs. Violet gasped, and if she hadn't been watching me before, she certainly was now.

Her lashes settled on her glossy cheeks as she continued to sing. “I’m scared, and the world won’t believe. But you will... you’ll know me in the crowd. Whisper my name. I will always hear your voice, even if the ghosts swallow me whole.”

The song crept into my body and pulled me from that room. It forced me to think of blue lakes, an expanse of twinkling night sky, and strong hands that held me steady. No music could have been more welcome. Nothing could have been so painful.

"Why?" Violet whispered next to me. "Why would she pick that song?"

My hands were claws; they fought me as I pulled them apart. In the red room, Amina finished the final verse. It was a kick to my ribs to hear her singing those familiar lyrics.

"Bach," my VP urged me. "Why—"

"Shh," I growled. "I don't know." How could I? Of all the songs to pick...

Why had Amina chosen the one my father wrote for me?

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