Zed picks up the next lines and continues. As he reaches the next line her voice rings through the speakers, “Wait.”
We all stop to stare.
“What?” Zed snarls, annoyed at her interruption. “Not good enough for you?”
“No, it was great!” Her voice is breathy with exhilaration. When did music last make me feel that way? “But I think you need to mix up the beat. It’s too fast. You need to drag out the last words and drag out the notes, really make the listeners beg for it.”
I watch Ripper’s hands grip the drumsticks tighter as his mind strays, probably thinking about what he’d like to make her beg for. Something I want to save her from. I love Ripper like a brother, but he’s a playboy. He always has been. He treats women like toys. Usually, his ways don’t bother me, but it’s different with Ash. I won’t allow her to be another one of Ripper’s toys.
From her haunted eyes and the emotion in her viral video, I can tell she’s hurting and been through a lot, probably more than most. I can’t let him play with her and drop her. She doesn’t deserve that.
“Fine,” Zed says through gritted teeth. He adopts a growl when he speaks to her, which I’d never be able to pull off without a voice changer. His control and ability to disguise his voice is enviable. “We’ll go again.”
We pick up from the start of the verse. With her advice, it’s better than our last attempt, but a few seconds later, Ash makes a small noise.
Zed is gonna lose his shit. “You can’t be fucking serious!”
“It’s better,” Ash says. Her confidence increases as she gets more comfortable around us and intently focuses on the music. I like that about her, her respect for the art. She is pushing us to make the song better. “But can you do it again and—”
“Why don’t you sing it, if you think you can do better?” Zed interrupts, stepping away from the microphone. “Come on down and show me how it’s done!”
As a Lionheart, he is the charming showman, but his inner diva comes out as Zed. Something Ripper and I like to tease him about mercilessly—he likes it really.
“I-I-I…” Ash stammers, and I can sense her awkwardness.
I want to say something to reassure her, but I don’t get my words out before Ripper talks in his gravelly voice that makes women drop their panties. From Ash’s flushing cheeks, he must be having the same effect on her and my stomach twists like I’ve been stabbed again.
“Why not? I’d love to see you put Zed in his place,” Ripper purrs. “You want to be a singer, right?”
“Yes, I do.” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger—not in a flirty way, but as a means to calm her anxiety. I recognize it instantly. “But I can’t sing with you guys.”
“Come on, Ash,” Ripper encourages, coaxing a smile out of her. “We want you to sing and show us what you can do.”
She walks through to join us with slumped shoulders like she’s trying to melt into the wall. She shouldn’t. I want her to throw them back and stride with confidence, but I understand how it feels to want to hide from the world.
Zed is already setting up another microphone next to him.
“I’ll provide backing,” Zed mutters. Despite his outburst, he’s unable to stop himself from getting involved.
“From the top?” Ripper says when we’re ready.
She holds the microphone but turns to seek Ripper’s assurance. “Are you sure about this?”
Her deep brown eyes seek his approval, but I’m desperate for her to face me and see that I’m betting on her. I want her to succeed because I know she can.
“I asked you to come here to help,” Ripper replies gently, then clears his throat. His voice transitioned into his usual tone for a second, and Ash’s brows furrows. She noticed the shift. When he speaks again, his intonations are completely different, and I see whatever brief thought she had leave. “So, help us.”
Zed thrusts a lyric sheet into her hands. “Here.”
“Throw out the lyrics if you want to,” Ripper says, ignoring Zed’s glare. “I want to see what you can do, Ash. Make our song your own.”
“My own?” she murmurs under her breath, more to herself than us. She shifts from one foot to the other. Her fingers close around the microphone and she freezes, closing her eyes for a few seconds. Her eyes snap open and she nods in determination. “I’m ready. You start, and I’ll come in.”
We begin playing. Zed sings, and Ash harmonizes with him, her voice mixing into his. I’m struck with a pang of jealousy as her soft tone wraps around his gravelly hits like their voices are making love. Zed halts as the chorus begins to let Ash take the lead, and her demeanor changes entirely.
The lyric sheet falls from her hands and flutters to the floor as she commands the room. Her voice holds strong and doesn’t waver. Ripper’s crashing drums, my guitar and Zed’s echo crash together in an explosive ballad. She holds every note, keeping my original lyrics and breathing new life into them. Her vocals make me feel.
Her voice cracks open part of me that I’ve kept locked away and gives me the courage to open my mouth and join her. I sing. Damn, I sing like I haven’t for years. My words mix with hers and while she started off hesitant, it’s her turn to lift me up and create something incredible. Something that makes me never want to stop. As the chorus ends, I’m panting, and Zed comes in again.