In Plain Sight (WeHo Book 11)

by Sherryl Hancock

  “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly who I mean.”

  “Oh my…” Kieran was fanning herself now.

  Memphis laughed, shaking her head.

  As they drove, Kieran tuned in to the music on the stereo. When the song changed, she tried to identify it.

  “Now is this techno?” she asked.

  Memphis smiled, nodding. “Yeah, this is one of my favorites.”

  “Why?”

  Memphis glanced over at Kieran, considering her. She wondered if somehow Kieran knew she’d been the one feeding her music all that time on the road.

  “Well, because it has so many elements,” she said, settling into her element easily. “Techno can be really boring. It can be just like this, one monotonous beat over and over again—but that’s boring, and you aren’t going to fill a dance floor with it. And that’s the goal of any DJ.”

  “To fill the dance floor?”

  “Yes,” Memphis said, nodding.

  Kieran looked surprised. “Not fame and fortune?”

  “I don’t want to be famous. I’d rather be popular.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “If you’re famous, people watch you. If you’re popular, people like you.”

  Kieran looked over at Memphis, both surprised and intrigued by her answer. “So, what about this song do you like so much?” she asked, thinking she was far too fascinated by this woman.

  “Well…” Memphis said, hitting repeat on the song. “Okay, listen. You see how it starts out here, then it builds… and builds…” She put her hand out, palm down, and moved it up one level at a time in the air. “And then it changes… here… and then here… and then bam!” she said as the song switched to a driving beat.

  Memphis’ entire body moved with the song; she was more or less dancing in her seat. It was very easy for Kieran to see how completely engaged she was with the music. Oliver had told her that Memphis’ whole world was music; it was obvious how right he was about that. But his description couldn’t capture the way her face looked when she was listening. There was a kind of rapture there that Kieran found very appealing. She remembered saying that it seemed weird that Memphis walked around with headphones in her ears all the time, but now she thought she understood it. Memphis seemed so connected to music, right down to her core.

  “See?” Memphis said as the song ended. “It makes you want to dance, right?”

  Kieran smiled. “Yes, definitely.”

  The studio was a completely different experience. Kieran got to see Memphis at work, and there were a few other things that surprised her.

  They walked into Badlands Studios, and Kieran thought she’d just died and gone to heaven when she saw the offices and the various artists that represented the label. Memphis led her to an area where there were a few sound booths. Opening one door with a key, she gestured for Kieran to follow her.

  In the engineering side of the booth, Kieran could see all the mixing boards and various equipment. Memphis sat down and started fiddling with things.

  “Make yourself at home.” She winked. “This is the boring part.”

  Kieran watched as Memphis’ hands moved over the equipment in front of her. “So what are you doing there?” she asked at one point.

  “Right now? I’m just loading the tracks I want to work on with Cassie.” Memphis took a sip of her coffee and set it aside, far from the board. “BJ wants me to work on putting together some more compilations like the one I did for Remi.”

  “Oh, the one from the fight?”

  “You know about that?”

  “Of course. Oliver told me all about it, and I’ve since heard it—it’s a great song.”

  Memphis smiled. “Well, thanks.”

  A few minutes later, Kieran was sure she was going to faint when BJ Sparks himself walked into the sound booth. He didn’t see her sitting off to the side; he walked directly over to Memphis. She glanced up at him, and he put out his index finger, indicating that she needed to stand up. She did, and he took her in his arms, hugging her. Then he leaned back and put his hand to her chin, tilting her head from side to side.

  “It’s gone, Beege,” Memphis said, moving to extricate her chin from his thumb and forefinger. She sat back down.

  “It should never have been there,” BJ said. “I’m seriously thinking we should file a complaint.”

  “Why? They’ll just say it was my fault—I was resisting arrest or something.”

  BJ didn’t look pleased. “Fuckers,” he said angrily, then looked down at her. “And you’re okay… otherwise?”

  Memphis breathed an exasperated sigh. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, her tone beseeching him to drop the matter.

  “Well, we’ll see if that fucker files charges. And if he does, I’m gonna get you the best lawyer in the country to take those bastards apart.”

  Memphis tilted her head down, looking embarrassed by his vehemence.

  BJ narrowed his eyes. “Now, has Billy said another word to you?”

  “She apologized, Beege.”

  “Right…” BJ shook his head ruefully. “Like that makes it all better.”

  Memphis grimaced. “Can we please just forget about it?”

  BJ looked like it was the last thing he wanted to do, but he could see he was making Memphis uncomfortable so he forced himself to let it go. He glanced to his right then and spotted the girl sitting there.

  “Oh, BJ, sorry. This is Kieran—she’s a friend.” Memphis smiled over at the girl.

  “Is this who I’m meeting with later this morning for a job?” BJ asked over his shoulder as he walked over to extend his hand to Kieran.

  Kieran stood up, looking completely awed. BJ Sparks was a legend in the music business, and to Kieran’s way of thinking one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. At six feet and three inches, his body in excellent shape even past the age of fifty, with dark auburn hair and blue-green eyes, he was stunning. In person he was spectacular; he oozed charisma out of every pore. His eyes sparkled as he introduced himself, as if she didn’t know who he was.

  “Hi, I’m BJ,” he said with a pirate’s grin.

  “Hi,” Kieran said, her voice barely audible. She cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry, I’ve just never met a rock star before.”

  BJ tilted his head, hearing her accent. “You’re from London?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  BJ looked happy about that. “So was I, a billion years ago,” he said, grinning again. “Well, we’ll talk in a bit.” He winked at her again.

  He turned back to Memphis. “You let me know if Cassie gives you too much crap. I’m behind this project, so if I need to get my artists in line, I’ll have that conversation. Okay?”

  “Yes, and she’ll be thrilled to work with me then,” Memphis muttered.

  “I heard that!” BJ said, his grin wide.

  “I meant ya to!” Memphis replied, grinning as well.

  BJ walked out of the sound booth.

  “Still alive over there?” Memphis asked when she saw that Kieran still looked like she was in a daze.

  “I, um… yes,” she said, smiling. “My God, he is a stunner, isn’t he?”

  Memphis winked. “Even to us lesbians.”

  “Why was he looking at your face?” Kieran asked tentatively.

  “’Cause I had a bruise on it last week after my fun little experiment with jail,” Memphis said offhandedly.

  “What happened?” Kieran said gently. She had heard what the news said about Memphis, but not that she’d been struck.

  “Suffice it to say that cops there don’t like gays any more than the Bible bangers do,” Memphis said, her lips twitching.

  “They struck you?”

  Memphis couldn’t help but laugh sarcastically at Kieran’s shock. “It happens to a lot of gays in stupid places like that.”

  “But… I mean, how did they know?”

  Memphis looked back at her for a long moment, then stood up and took off her hoodie, e
xposing the tattoo on her right arm. It spanned most of her upper arm; there was no missing it.

  “I’d left the arena, being pissed off at Billy, and didn’t take my jacket. I’m almost always wearing something sleeveless.” She shrugged.

  “Still…” Kieran said, her tone stubbornly offended. “You have the right to be who you are, and they’re supposed to uphold the law.”

  Memphis grinned. “And that’s the way it’s supposed to be, yes. It just isn’t always.”

  Kieran gave her a sad look. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said, so sincerely that Memphis couldn’t make light of it.

  She looked back at the girl, nodding. “And I really did appreciate your attempt to help. I just… I wasn’t ready to talk about it at that point.”

  Kieran nodded. “I understand.”

  Memphis looked back at her, thinking Kieran still had a lot to understand. Poor kid.

  An hour later, Cassie Roads arrived and apologized profusely to Memphis.

  “No worries,” Memphis said.

  “So, what are we doing?” Cassie asked, glancing at Kieran.

  Memphis smiled. “Cassie, this is my friend Kieran. Kier, this is Cassie Roads.”

  Cassie nodded to Kieran. “Hi.”

  “Hello,” Kieran said, sensing that Cassie wasn’t someone she should gush over, even though she thought the girl’s voice was absolutely amazing.

  Cassie Roads-Machiavelli was the tiny little powerhouse lead singer of the band Fast Lane. At an extremely slight four foot ten inches and weighing less than a hundred pounds, no one ever expected the powerful voice Cassie possessed. Between that and her beauty—her long black hair and light blue eyes—Cassie Roads was an amazing woman.

  A few minutes later, Cassie was on the other side of the booth at the microphone and Memphis was talking to her via her headset.

  “Okay, the first one I want to do is ‘Take Away,’” Memphis said.

  She’d told Cassie she wanted to rerecord some tracks to add some clarity and pitch to them. Cassie had been hesitant, but said she was willing to see what Memphis wanted.

  “So what do you plan to use with it?” Cassie asked, raising a jet black eyebrow.

  Memphis grinned. She knew she’d never just get Cassie’s cooperation without question, and she understood that. Artists were deeply intertwined with their work, and they never wanted to see it bastardized. By sampling it, Memphis was potentially doing just that.

  “I’m sorry, Memphis,” Cassie said. “I’m not trying to be a pain.”

  “I know, hon, don’t worry. Let me just queue up what I’m thinking about mixing it with.”

  A minute later a Fefe Dobson song, “Take Me Away,” filled the sound booth and Cassie’s headphones. It was easy to see that Cassie was listening and thinking about it in terms of her own song that Memphis wanted to use. Finally she nodded, smiling.

  “I like it,” she said.

  “Good,” Memphis said, returning the smile.

  “Okay, just tell me what you need.”

  “Just sing it. I’ll queue up the music—I need to hear it to know what I need.”

  Cassie nodded. Kieran watched as Memphis hit a series of buttons and turned knobs. As Cassie started to sing, Kieran could see Memphis’ mind racing; she moved her head to the music, then held up her hand.

  “Wait,” she said, smiling apologetically at Cassie’s frustrated look. “Sorry, can you raise it an octave on that last part?”

  “That’s not how it’s written,” Cassie said.

  “I know, but you gotta trust me, okay?”

  Cassie looked at her darkly through the glass.

  “Please?” Memphis added, smiling beatifically.

  Cassie sighed. “Okay, just give me a signal when you want it raised.”

  “You got it.”

  They ran through the song again. At one point, Memphis lifted her hand slowly, and Cassie responded by raising her pitch along with Memphis’ movement.

  “Oh my God, I think I love you…” Memphis breathed, smiling. “That was exactly it.”

  “It felt weird,” Cassie said.

  “I know, but trust me—it’ll work for what I want.”

  They worked on that song for a while, and then moved to another. Once again, Cassie wanted to know what Memphis was going to pair it with.

  “I’ve got two ideas, let me queue them up. Okay, first one…” She hit the button to play the track.

  A techno beat poured out of the speakers, and Cassie listened, but it was obvious a minute in that she didn’t like it.

  “Okay, I can see that one’s a no,” Memphis said grinning. “Let’s try this one.” She hit the button again. This time it was the song she and Kieran had been listening to in the car.

  Cassie started to nod. “Yeah, definitely that one. I like it.”

  “Okay, so sing for me, honey,” Memphis said, smiling.

  Kieran glanced over at Memphis, noting how often she used the words “hon” and “honey.” She wondered about that. It was a common endearment, she told herself.

  Cassie was singing again, this song a much softer one, almost all ballad with only a backing piano for most of it. At one point Memphis held up her hand again, stopping the playback, once again giving Cassie an apologetic smile. “Okay, on that verse, can you give it to me stronger?”

  Cassie looked perplexed. “Stronger?”

  “Yeah,” Memphis said, nodding.

  Cassie shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Stronger, heavier… more emotion.”

  Cassie simply looked back at her, her expression not changing.

  “Okay,” Memphis said, and wound the track back. “Something like this…”

  She hit the button, and to both Cassie’s and Kieran’s utter and complete shock, started to sing the words Cassie had just sung, with a most incredible voice that neither of them could have imagined. She emphasized certain words and certain syllables. Cassie and Kieran both stared, completely entranced. As if something clicked in her head, Memphis stopped singing and stopped the track.

  “Does that make more sense?” she asked, her tone normal.

  Cassie looked back at her for a long moment. “That makes me think I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ job if BJ ever hears you sing like that. Where the hell did that voice come from?”

  Memphis pressed her lips together in consternation. She’d forgotten herself for a moment, and she wasn’t happy about it.

  “Can we just—” she began.

  “Oh, hell no!” Cassie put her hands on her hips. “Where’d you learn to sing that way?”

  Memphis didn’t reply. She busied herself with knobs and levers. Cassie looked over at Kieran, who shook her head and shrugged. When it became obvious she wasn’t going to get an answer, Cassie said, “Okay, let’s try it again.”

  Memphis immediately hit the button to replay the track. Nothing else was said about the lapse, but it stuck in both Kieran’s and Cassie’s minds.

  Later, Kieran had a nerve-racking meeting with BJ, in which he hired her on the spot and told her to be there the following Monday at 9:00 a.m. She was thrilled. As they walked back to the parking lot, she looked over at Memphis.

  “Thank you so much for this, Memphis,” she said, smiling. “I think this is the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “It’s okay. I figure I owe you for trying to help last week.”

  “You don’t owe me anything for that. I wanted to try.”

  “Well, a lot of people wouldn’t have cared, and definitely wouldn’t have tried again, like you did when you called me.”

  Kieran looked at her over the top of the car. “I heard you that night,” she said, her expression pained. “I felt so awful…”

  Memphis looked at her. “You barely know me.”

  “You barely know me and you just got me a job, Memphis.”

  Memphis reached up to scratch her eyebrow. They got into the car, and Memphis plugged in her p
hone. As she pulled out of the garage, Kieran looked over at her.

  “Did I hear that you were going to be DJing at a club tomorrow night?” she asked.

  Memphis nodded. “At The Club, yes.”

  “Can I come?” Kieran asked.

  “Sure,” Memphis said as she pulled onto the freeway. “It’s a gay club though.”

  “I think we’ve established that I don’t have problems with gay people.”

  Memphis grinned. “Okay, but I’m warning you, you’re cute, so you’re likely to get hit on.”

  “You think I’m cute?”

  Memphis was shocked. “You don’t think you’re cute?”

  Kieran didn’t answer, just looked over at her. “Can I ask you a question?” she said after a moment.

  “Sure,” Memphis said, perplexed by the change in topic.

  “Did Oliver ever talk about me?”

  Memphis gave her a look she didn’t quite understand, but then she nodded. “Of course he did.”

  “Did he show you my picture?”

  Memphis smiled. “Yes, he did.”

  “Do you think I look like my picture?” Kieran asked, her stare pointedly blank.

  Memphis looked over at her sharply. “Of course you do,” she said, then her eyes narrowed. “Who said you don’t?”

  Kieran didn’t answer. Memphis glanced at her again. “Kier? Who said you don’t?” she repeated, her tone dropping an octave.

  “Some men have.” Kieran glanced over at Memphis. “Kier?”

  “Sorry, bad habit. I shorten people’s names all the time.” Memphis grinned.

  “It’s okay, I like it.”

  “So which men said you don’t look like your picture?”

  “You want names?” Kieran asked, smiling softly.

  “I want to know if Oliver is one of them.”

  Kieran didn’t answer at first. She looked hesitant.

  “He is, isn’t he?” Memphis’ expression had suddenly become somewhat lethal.

  Kieran shrugged. “He’s right. I’ve gained a lot of weight since that picture.”

  “I don’t believe you’ve gained a lot of weight.”

  “Well, I have.”

  “It doesn’t matter. What did he say to you?”

  Kieran shook her head. “That doesn’t matter.”