protest.
“I have to go.”
His eyes closed. “Stay.”
It made her smile, but she got up, her mood light as she went out into the foyer. She patted the cougar statue on the head before getting on the elevator.
***
The studio work was fun. There was a group of musicians on one side of a sound-proofed room, and they played the song into individual microphones, while on the other side of the glass technicians in headsets worked the board.
She ran through a traditional version of “Silent Night” eight times, drank a ton of water, and then met Ella back in the hallway. Ella was talking in her own headset and typing into a tablet at the same time. She cut off the conversation when she saw Baylee. “The guys in the booth said you were great.”
“I was okay.”
“It’ll blend great with the other musicians.” She lowered her voice. “The producer wants two of everything … and with that guy not showing up, it wasn’t good. I could arrange a whole orchestra, but not first thing in the morning with no notice. You musicians sleep in.”
“Night gigs,” Baylee said, like a rock star.
“They want to know if you want to stay for the video.” Ella flipped her tablet around. “Unlike the royalties for the song, which are a whopping one percent for you, this would be a flat fee of $2000, plus any subsidiary rights. It’s a good deal.”
Baylee had no interest in being in a video until that moment. “I absolutely want to do it.” They headed down the corridor into a larger part of the building with Ella talking into the headset.
“Thanks, Baylee, I really owe you.”
***
Baylee owed Ella. It was noon and she’d earned a month’s pay. She was playing a frozen statue of a flutist. She wore white statue-like makeup on her arms and face. Her legs were covered in white tights and she wore a white dress, a cross between a white Grecian toga and a mini dress. It was short, but not too short. All the other musicians were women, and they were all dressed the same. Except the band, who she’d just found out was Rain Spin, which was freaking awesome. They were dressed in rock band guy-black.
The director motioned for them to start.
As the lead strolled through the set that was made to look ice covered and frozen, he sang a Capella. As he passed, the musicians unfroze and played their instruments.
This part didn’t matter if she missed a note, because she just had to play so it would look real on film. The music itself would come from the recording studio.
A wheeled camera tracked the lead’s steps, and stationary cameras caught images of the musicians.
They’d already run through the scene twice without makeup, and twice with half makeup. This was the last go through. They’d edit it together backwards, frozen to thawed, as if the lead’s singing turned them to life.
She played through to the last verse, “…savior is born.”
“That’s a wrap,” the director said.
Baylee dropped her arms and shrugged out her shoulders, smiling with the rest of the crew. She was eager to wash off the heavy white makeup, and she wanted lunch as she’d skipped breakfast.
The other musicians were half packing up their instruments, half hitting on the guys in the band, and why not, the band was cute and some of the musicians looked like models and rock stars married models. It was one of those life rules.
“Hey,” Logan said in his deep voice. He was grinning at her. “Want to grab lunch?”
“Yes.” She gave him a quick hug. “I’m starved.”
***
They’d gone to lunch, lingered talking, took a drive around town, and by the time they got back, it was time to get ready for Logan’s club thing. She hadn’t been in her room long before a tap sounded on the door. Baylee tightened the sash on her lizard robe and answered. Logan stood on the other side, holding several small shopping bags in one hand and a dress bag over one shoulder. “Delivery.”
And here we go . Baylee shoved her just washed and dried
“I have to go.”
His eyes closed. “Stay.”
It made her smile, but she got up, her mood light as she went out into the foyer. She patted the cougar statue on the head before getting on the elevator.
***
The studio work was fun. There was a group of musicians on one side of a sound-proofed room, and they played the song into individual microphones, while on the other side of the glass technicians in headsets worked the board.
She ran through a traditional version of “Silent Night” eight times, drank a ton of water, and then met Ella back in the hallway. Ella was talking in her own headset and typing into a tablet at the same time. She cut off the conversation when she saw Baylee. “The guys in the booth said you were great.”
“I was okay.”
“It’ll blend great with the other musicians.” She lowered her voice. “The producer wants two of everything … and with that guy not showing up, it wasn’t good. I could arrange a whole orchestra, but not first thing in the morning with no notice. You musicians sleep in.”
“Night gigs,” Baylee said, like a rock star.
“They want to know if you want to stay for the video.” Ella flipped her tablet around. “Unlike the royalties for the song, which are a whopping one percent for you, this would be a flat fee of $2000, plus any subsidiary rights. It’s a good deal.”
Baylee had no interest in being in a video until that moment. “I absolutely want to do it.” They headed down the corridor into a larger part of the building with Ella talking into the headset.
“Thanks, Baylee, I really owe you.”
***
Baylee owed Ella. It was noon and she’d earned a month’s pay. She was playing a frozen statue of a flutist. She wore white statue-like makeup on her arms and face. Her legs were covered in white tights and she wore a white dress, a cross between a white Grecian toga and a mini dress. It was short, but not too short. All the other musicians were women, and they were all dressed the same. Except the band, who she’d just found out was Rain Spin, which was freaking awesome. They were dressed in rock band guy-black.
The director motioned for them to start.
As the lead strolled through the set that was made to look ice covered and frozen, he sang a Capella. As he passed, the musicians unfroze and played their instruments.
This part didn’t matter if she missed a note, because she just had to play so it would look real on film. The music itself would come from the recording studio.
A wheeled camera tracked the lead’s steps, and stationary cameras caught images of the musicians.
They’d already run through the scene twice without makeup, and twice with half makeup. This was the last go through. They’d edit it together backwards, frozen to thawed, as if the lead’s singing turned them to life.
She played through to the last verse, “…savior is born.”
“That’s a wrap,” the director said.
Baylee dropped her arms and shrugged out her shoulders, smiling with the rest of the crew. She was eager to wash off the heavy white makeup, and she wanted lunch as she’d skipped breakfast.
The other musicians were half packing up their instruments, half hitting on the guys in the band, and why not, the band was cute and some of the musicians looked like models and rock stars married models. It was one of those life rules.
“Hey,” Logan said in his deep voice. He was grinning at her. “Want to grab lunch?”
“Yes.” She gave him a quick hug. “I’m starved.”
***
They’d gone to lunch, lingered talking, took a drive around town, and by the time they got back, it was time to get ready for Logan’s club thing. She hadn’t been in her room long before a tap sounded on the door. Baylee tightened the sash on her lizard robe and answered. Logan stood on the other side, holding several small shopping bags in one hand and a dress bag over one shoulder. “Delivery.”
And here we go . Baylee shoved her just washed and dried
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