"Win or lose here, if she keeps singing, she'll do fine" Ford said. "I checked out a few recordings of her high school band. They sound interesting. A bit too reminiscent of Waves and Wanderlust for my taste, but their songs show promise."
Ryann Ford was hands down the biggest, music producers in Illyria. He had an ear for talent that had put many young singers on the map. He might have to compete Ford if he wanted the Vanilla Velvet kids in his studio.
"I heard them," Carter said. "She's repressed as fuck even with them. But she does a better job than you with Dark Dream," Carter added turning to look at him.
Lauren looked lost, and he kept his poker face, pretending he didn't know what Carter meant either.
"She really loves that song," Ford said. "It's the only one in which she puts that much heat."
"If she can do the stupid vampire song like that, she can make an audience burn. She's not getting out of rehearsal until she gives me what I want."
"That sounded awfully creepy," Lauren said.
Carter grinned at her. "Because you have a dirty mind."
He had to step in. "She's, what, only eighteen, right?" he said when he could trust his voice to sound neutral. "Don't be too... yourself."
"She turned nineteen last month," Carter said. "Not that it matters. You had your chance, Andy. She's one of mine now."
Yes, as Diane still reminded him when they talked, he had missed his chance to have Vy on his team.
One of Carter's. He often wondered if Vy guessed that his vampire song was inspired by Tim Carter's effect on women. It would be bitterly ironic if Vy became one of Carter's creations.
He wished he could protect her. If Carter wanted to get through to her, he would break through any barriers the girl might have constructed. Andrew knew that people usually put up barriers for good reason.
"Tim, she's just a kid, and you aren't, it's all I'm saying. She looks up to you."
"Good. She should. Because if she can't break out of whatever illusion of normality she has, she's no good to me."
"You might come out with a black eye if you push her too hard," Ford said.
"It would be worth it," Carter said.
"If you haven't gotten through to her in two months, I don't think you'll do it."
"I was easy on her before," Carter said. "But now I'm pissed off. I bet I'll make her melt the microphone tomorrow."
Ford seemed genuinely amused. Maybe he hadn't seen Carter get this worked up before.
"Bet on what?" Ford asked.
Carter took off his watch, and set it down on the table. "I bought this when the first Waves album went platinum. I will give it to you if I don't break her tomorrow."
Ford took a pen from an inside pocket of his jacket and scribbled something on a napkin which he folded and pushed across the table. Carter raised an eyebrow inquiringly after reading it, then folded it again and nodded to Ford.
"And how do I know if you did it?" Ford asked. "Do I get to sit in on the rehearsal?"
"Of course not," Carter said. "She would close up completely if you did."
"So, I should take your word for it?"
"Guys, you can't do this," Lauren said. "Like Andy said, she's just a kid."
"I'm not going to hurt her," Carter assured her. "I don't even need to touch her. Just talk."
Touch her. The feel of her hand in his.
Carter addressed Ford again. "I'll tell you at lunch. If you don't believe me, you don't have to pay up."
He snuck a peek at Vy. She was surrounded by her friends, but she seemed to move through trickle. Her cheek bones were more visible than a few weeks ago. Her usual bright smile was gone. Working with Carter was changing her. And he was planning to go further.
He didn't worry about physical from Carter, or even sexual harassment. Carter slept around indiscriminately when he wasn't in a relationship. Fortunately, for the past few weeks he'd been dating that actress he worked with, Isabella something.
Even so, he feared Carter's ability to psychologically manipulate anyone. Especially women. He could slither into their minds and make them crave things they never had before. He knew of more broken hearts and twisted souls by Carter than the media ever found out about.
Vy turned her head and their gazes locked for a moment. They were far enough from each other to tell himself that he imagined the explosion in the swirling green of her eyes.
Carter's words and the look in Vy's eyes kept him up half the night. He tried to make himself believe she was in no danger. Whatever Carter had in store for her, it was going to make her a better singer. Bastard though he was, Carter had the talent required to forge her into a star.
The secret passage next to Music Room 1 tempted him. If it was still there, the acoustics would allow him to hear inside the music room.
He didn't need to spy on Carter to win, but he needed to be able to step in if he went too far.
Vy was strong and opinionated, but she was also young and grateful. Each time he heard her sing, he sensed Carter's influence growing. Carter wasn't going to keep from using her admiration and her trust against her. He was going to force his way into her mind and twist her soul.
Chapter 10
Andrew
The first scheduled practice started at 9. He was always early and his people got used to that. Andrew was in Music Room 4 at 8. He wasn't surprised that Marvin showed up a few minutes later. They went through the song a few times, but Andrew couldn't focus on the rehearsal. The closer it got to 9 o'clock, the more he worried about Vy and Carter. At half past nine he realized that he hadn't noticed a single thing about Marvin's song.
"Let's take a break."
"Ok," Marvin said.
The boy didn't sound upset, or even surprised. The high level of empathy and his profound sensibility didn't work only for music. Marvin had probably picked up on his inattention.
"We'll resume after lunch," he said.
#
Once he was in the passageway, no one would see him, but he had to get there somehow. When he had first seen the House, before the season started, he had checked his memory, and found that the passageway was still there.
Out of curiosity, he'd circled the mansion and tried to guess where would the entrance be. A thick hedge surrounded the walls and it had grown thick over the past ten years, but he thought he remembered its position relative to the windows. It was still morning, and people would see him if he tried to get in.
The only option was to go into the west wing as if he went to Music Room 1, and simply walk past the door, into the hidden passageway.
He checked his watch. A quarter to ten. She had been alone with Carter for three quarters of an hour. He had to get there. Carter's hysterical attitude about keeping his practices uninterrupted made it safe to assume that no one would be milling around outside his music room.
He strode across the common hallway and reached the antechamber seen only by the cameras surveying the area. No one would make anything of him crossing into the western wing as long as he walked like he had business there.
In a few steps, he ducked behind the last curtain, into the dark passageway and walked all the way to the secret door that led outside. That was the spot from where he could hear best into the music room.
Vy was singing.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the cold brick wall that separated him from them. She was singing "Slow like honey", very much like Fiona Apple's original rendition. He could bet that Carter wasn't happy with that. She was halfway through the song when Carter stopped her.
"Enough," Carter said. "You got it down. You know the song. Good work. Now sing it like you feel this."
"But I don't 'feel this'," she said, and he heard the air quotes. "I can sing every damn note, I can do every inflexion, but I can't make up something I don't feel. Something I never felt in my life."
"Oh, poor rich girl who always gets what she wants. You never had to work at making a man fall to his knees."
"A
s a matter of fact, no, I never have. Mostly because I think that a man I have to seduce is not a man worth having."
"So, you're a virgin," Carter said. "That's nice, but it's not an excuse."
Carter's tone told him that Vy was probably staring at him in shock for his rudeness.
"Seduction, my dear, is a fact of life. You might not want to keep around a man you seduce, but you'll still have to do it."
"Don't philosophize at me," Vy snapped back. "You're the one who demanded I feel what I sing. And I don't. I do not feel, I do not beg and I do not seduce. You're supposed to be a genius at choosing songs that help your contestants transmit what they can transmit. Why are you so set on making me sing something that's so not me?"
"Because you have to do something to make up for the handicaps of being young, healthy and socially well adjusted."
"Handicaps?"
He couldn't see them, and he felt guilty for spying on his competitors. Or at least he wanted to believe that the guilt was about the competition. His good intention of protecting Vy had led him to a morally compromised position. She seemed to stand up to Carter better than he expected. He should leave before he heard too much about strategy. He was going to stay a few minutes, and if he didn't go too far, he'd leave. He stayed to watch over her, as a concerned adult. Not because he was burning to know more about her.
"In this competition, people vote on emotion, remember? They vote on backstory more than voice. Do you I have to remind you what they showed about you? Out of everyone in the competition, you come off worst. You are a privileged, healthy girl from a rich family. You will not get the sympathy vote from the public."
Carter was right. They kept showing the background stories of the contestants, trying to portray the competition as dramatic as possible. And everyone on the show had a sadder story than her. Their stories might well win against her talent.
Most people withered under Carter's venomous tongue. Not Vy.
"I won't beg for a sympathy vote," she said. "I will win on my own talent and on the blood and sweat I put in my music!"
" You can hone your technique to perfection, but if you don't make the audience burn, it's all for nothing. And I'm not just talking about the people who will vote for you. Even someone obsessed with perfection like Andrew King wants passion. He's a man and he wants to catch fire."
That bastard knew him too well. Except he was a step behind. He was already on fire. He was fighting to not let the fire consume him.
"Then why did you want me in the first place?" Vy asked. "If I'm so useless, why did you both want me on your team?"
"Because your voice is fucking awesome! I thought there was a spark of passion somewhere in you. If you don't get it out, you're just taking the place of some sob story with half your talent who can get the public to bleed for them."
In the darkness of his hiding place, Andrew had to agree. He couldn't help wondering if Carter was so hard with all his contestants, or Vy was a very special project, as Ford had said?
On backstory, Helen and Marvin would always win over Vy and Michelle. Purely from the perspective of their natural talent, and their ability to play the audience, Marvin was the only one better than Vy, and the rest of the semifinalists were a long way off.
Unless Carter managed to break through to her inner core, Marvin or Helen would win the show. The anger in her voice showed that Carter was making progress.
"What the fuck to you want me to do? Start cutting myself to feel pain? Being young and healthy is not a character flaw. It's not my fault I have a nice family and I don't have any traumas to warp my soul!"
"Don't try to lie to me! I saw the pain on your face when your audition was over. You sang for Andrew, and he barely looked at you. He didn't even fight for you. I saw you writhe in pain when you knew it in your bones, your young and healthy bones that he didn't want you. Sing this fucking song to make him want you like you want him. Reach inside his chest and pull his heart out! Make him cry himself blind. Make him bleed out on the floor because he can't have you! If you can't do that, you're a giant waste of my time."
He held his breath waiting for her reaction. He listened for the sound a slap across Carter's face or for the angry tic-tac of her heels on the hardwood floor walking or running away from him. He expected an acid verbal retort or maybe a torrent of insults. A secret part of himself wanted her to unleash the passion he had glimpsed in her.
He stomped on the seed of hope and arrogance that he really was the one to set her soul on fire. His mind told him that Carter had used the weapons at his disposal to make her come alive so he could win. Andrew wanted him to be right more than he wanted to win.
He wanted to hear his lioness roar.
He heard movement, rustling, whispers.
Then her voice.
Slow Like Honey started slowly, softly, more sensuously than anything he had heard her sing before. Maybe Carter's speech had messed with his mind, too, but he felt her voice reaching inside his chest, holding his beating heart. The piano joined her like a shadow.
Her voice wrapped around his chest like a mighty, lazy snake, slowly squeezing the air out of his lungs. He leaned his back against the wall, pressing his shoulder blades against its cold surface, gasping for breath. With his eyes closed he could swear that Vy was next to him, whispering those wicked words in his ear, daring him to reach out to touch her.
Behind his tightly shut eyelids, he saw her again, her hair like a sand storm and her green eyes dark with desire. Her gaze killed him and her voice brought him back to life over and over again. She kept him burning between regret and hope, pushing him deeper into obsession.
Vy
She kept her eyes closed even after the song ended. That was awkward as hell. Not the singing. That was embarrassingly awesome. Being in the same room with Carter after she had just serenaded another man was humiliating. He must have guessed her secret.
"Well done, Vy."
His voice was thicker than usual and it had no trace of mockery or cajolery. She couldn't enjoy the praise knowing the cost. She had opened a door she should have kept locked. Barred. Bolted. Andrew King was a real man, not fantasy material she could use like that.
She was a fan among millions of fans. King would be annoyed, maybe disgusted to know that she thought she was falling in love with him after he had showed her a little kindness.
She could not afford to sing that song in public. She had to do better on the next song. She had to make TC give her another song for the final. She slammed the door on the awkward moment.
"Next one?"
TC looked at her, but she was her usual cheery self again. She was the chirpy sassy rock chick she had always been. His eyes hardened but she ignored the unspoken reprimand. Tough cookies! He should be happy that he managed to goad her into revealing anything other than what she was. This was the real her and he should get used to it. She was a basically happy person, with no massive hang-ups and haunted past.
He stood up from the piano.
"After lunch."
He walked out without saying anything.
"Yes, thank you. I'd love to have lunch with you," she said as the door closed. "Oh, wait, you didn't invite me."
The words did not sound as funny as they should have. An unwelcome trace of emotion ruined the delivery. She hated him for making her tap into that particular secret. If he kept it up, her apprenticeship was going to take a very nasty turn.
#
They seemed to come back from lunch with a better understanding of one another. Carter didn't push her so hard, and she didn't push back.
"That's good. Try with a little more lilt on the second chorus."
Her throat was beginning to hurt, but she didn't complain. As long as she didn't make her sing Slow like honey again, or poke his nose into her feelings, she was going to give him everything he asked. He closed his eyes and his long bony fingers flew over the keyboard. The malice was gone when he allowed music to take over like that. She could almo
st forgive him anything when he looked so completely vulnerable.
Maybe that was what he was trying to do to her. To strip her down from all the things he saw as fake. She pitied him. It was sad to realize that this man, whose musical genius had shaped a generation, didn't understand that she had grown up in a happy home, and there was nothing wrong in that. She wondered if his demons, whatever they were, had been with him even when he was her age.
She poured the sadness and compassion she felt for him into the song. Carter's eyes snapped open as soon as she mellowed the song with her empathy. She lowered her eyelids, to hide the pity before he could feel embarrassed or insulted.
"That wasn't a lilt," he said when she finished.
She looked into her music sheet to have an excuse to avoid his gaze.
"Whatever it was," he said, "keep it."
She nodded, still not looking at him. If anyone had told her that she could pity Tim Carter...
"Take a few minutes, and we'll start on the next song."
"Why are you working me so hard? There are three other people on the team who need this just as much as I do."
"You should be resting your voice."
She shrugged. He was right, she should shut up. She was grateful for his interest. She should be glad of his attention, not call him out on it.
She was so tired, even the chair felt uncomfortable. She slid along the wall, until she sat on the floor. To her surprise, Carter came and sat next to her.
"I have to choose the best song and I feel like I can't get a grasp of what you can do. I need to explore you beyond the limits of what I think you can do."
He closed his eyes, and sighed.
"I can play any of your songs," she said.
"Or any Wanderlust songs," he said not opening his eyes. "If I run out of ideas, I'll let you play Dark Dream. You love that fucking song more than anything else I ever heard you sing."
She shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.
"Is it stupid?" she asked. "I mean, it's not their best song."
"We can't choose what we love."
Dark Dream (Love in Illyria Book 1) Page 8
