Heart's Tempo

by C. L. Ryder

  “You should come separate to the studio,” she said, seeing me off at the door. “I’ll text you the address.” She leaned in and kissed me, and as she did I felt my spot pulse with want. If she had wanted it, I would’ve submitted myself to her right then and there, but I resisted. Waiting would be better. Plus, though I didn’t want to admit it to myself at that moment, I was still nervous. Kissing was one thing, but taking the next step? I’d fantasized about it before, but actually doing it was something else. I’d never even seen another woman’s pussy before, let alone had one touch mine. I didn’t know if I would even know what to do.

  “See you tomorrow, Winny,” I said, feeling a strong surge of both happiness and longing for her. “Goodnight.” And then I stepped outside, and slowly closed the door behind me.

  On the drive home, “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey played on the radio, and I belted along at the top of my lungs, my head swimming with a giddy joy because Winny and I were together. It had to be a secret, but we were together.

  “I feel like you should owe me money or something,” Alex said. It was the following morning, and I was talking to him through the Bluetooth wireless in my car as I slugged through traffic.

  “I’ll buy you dinner,” I said, laughing.

  “Nah, it’s cool. Just introduce me to one of her hot celebrity friends or something, and then I’ll call it even. So you have to keep it secret, huh? That sounds like it's going to be tough.”

  “I don’t think it will be. We just have to stay apart in public, is all.”

  “And that’s not going to be tough?” he asked. “Never being able to be public about your relationship? Never being able to tell anyone?”

  “I don’t know, Alex. I’m alright with the idea.”

  “You know yourself best. But as your best friend, I still think you need to admit to your parents and friends that you’re lesbian. Your relationship is a step, but you’re still holding it inside.”

  “Come on, Alex,” I said, a little annoyed. Why did he have to bring it up? “I don’t need to come out and tell everyone. I’m fine with how things are, and besides, Winny could never come out publicly. It would hurt her career.” I was saying this, but I honestly wasn’t sure how true it was.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, I’m happy for you, girl. And not going to lie, just a little jealous. Seriously, introduce me to one of her hot celebrity friends. Does she know Chris Hemsworth?”

  “I don’t know,” I laughed. “You can ask her yourself, whenever you get to meet her again.”

  Secret, hidden romance was exciting. It gave me a little thrill whenever I thought about it, and like I had said, I wasn’t ready to go public with own secrets. But still, Alex’s comments had planted just the tiniest seed of doubt. I really liked Winny. I liked her a lot, so much that I thought that maybe I even felt the big four letter word about her, the other one that started with an “L”. I had never felt this way about anyone before.

  Seven

  I had my camera bag with me, just in case. I didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Pulling into the lot of the recording studio, I sat in my car for a moment, gathering myself. The past two times I had gone out with Winny, I had seen her as herself. Today, I realized I would likely see her as a different person: Winona Heart, the pop star. I picked up my bag and stepped outside into the heat, and immediately began to sweat. It had been warm throughout the week, but today it was pushing a hundred degrees, a scorcher of a weekend. Good, I thought to myself. At least I could sweat from nervousness and have an excuse. I walked into the building and was greeted by an icy burst of air-conditioning, and as I made my way up to the receptionist I wondered if this would be a repeat of my first day meeting Winny.

  “Hello,” I said to the girl sitting at the front desk.

  “How can I help you?” she asked pleasantly.

  “I’m a photographer, here with Winona Heart’s group.”

  “Okay, miss. Can I have your name please?”

  I gave her my name, praying that Winny had told them I was coming. I could call her cell phone, but that would be suspicious. A regular old photographer wouldn’t have Winona Heart’s personal cell phone number. To my relief, I was on the list, and after she checked my ID she sent me through. “Down this hallway. Studio number four.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and headed down the hall. The walls were lined with photographs of singers and bands, some of which I recognized, most I didn’t. A man with a lanyard badge around his neck walked down the hall carrying a stack of CDs and a hard drive, and gave me a nod. I nodded back. As I walked by the studios on the way to number four, I peeked in through the small windows of each door and saw people clustered around soundboards filled with switches, sliders and nobs, suited men and women reclining on leather couches as they watched people singing and performing through a glass partition. I smiled. This was the kind of environment I wanted to be in – filled with professionals, the best in their field, all doing their best work. I straightened up. I would be there, someday.

  I reached studio number four, peeked in through the door, and saw that it was the largest of all the ones I had passed. Instead of a single couch behind the sound booth, there were two tiers of leather couches and a number of easy chairs. A man in a suit sat on the lower couch, his legs crossed and his arm stretched over the back. A woman stood a few feet away, her arms crossed firmly over her chest as she bobbed her head to music I could not hear, lips pursed tightly together. She looked extremely tense. At the sound booth was a bearded guy in a flannel shirt in jeans with a pair of headphones around his neck, and next to him there were two other young guys also bobbing their heads along to the music. Angling my view, I could see Winny through the glass partition, singing into a microphone. A red “RECORDING” sign above the door glowed, and I waited until it went out to let myself into the room.

  “She was flat during the second chorus,” the woman said to the bearded man at the sound mixer. None of them seemed to pay any attention to my entrance until finally the woman looked over, frowned, and said, “Who’s she?”

  One of the younger guys came over to me. “Did you need something?” he asked.

  “I’m Lily Golden, I’m here to shoot some photos of the recording session,” I said.

  “I don’t remember being told about any photographer,” the woman said. She was pretty, though I could see that she was probably reaching her limit on face lifts and Botox injections and was getting to a point where doing anything else to her face would probably harm her looks more than help them.

  The suited man stood up from the couch. “Oh, right. Winny mentioned something to me about it. Said she had met a photographer at a party and was bringing her in.”

  “She has a photographer,” the woman said. “Winny, I wish she wouldn't go off on doing things like that without consulting one of us.”

  “Lily is an extremely talented photographer, mom.” I turned and saw Winny coming out from the recording booth. She smiled and extended a hand to me. “Good to see you again,” she said. When I shook her hand she gave mine a secret little squeeze before letting go.

  So the woman was Winny’s mother. Looking now, I could see the resemblance—she had the same ocean blue eyes that Winny did, though I guessed that she must’ve inherited her cool charm from her dad.

  “Linda’s right, Winny,” the suited man said. “Believe it or not, there are certain procedures that need to be followed. Contracts and—”

  “Mom. Michael. Relax,” Winny said. She put her hand on the man’s shoulder. “You don’t need to worry, I’ve hired Lily myself. Independent of the label and everything. The photos she takes will be purely for my own enjoyment.”

  “Winny,” Linda said in a stern, motherly voice, “Honey. You can’t just go around bringing in anyone you want. There are background checks that need to be cleared. Who knows who this woman is?” She waved her hand in my direction. I wanted to speak up and defend myself, but it didn’t seem like a good idea
given the situation. I was just a photographer, after all.

  “There’s nothing in my contract preventing me from hiring a photographer for my own personal projects,” Winny said. “This isn’t Disney, for God’s sake, mom.”

  Michael, the suited man, was looking impatient. He glanced over to three guys at the booth, and one of them tapped his wrist. “We’ve got an album to finish, people. Discuss it later. Come on, let’s hustle.”

  Winny gave me a quick smile.

  “Honey,” Linda said, grabbing her arm as she went back to the recording booth. “You were flat in the second chorus.”

  “Okay,” she nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Oh, and honey?” She leaned in close to her and lowered her voice, though she was still loud enough for everyone to hear, “I’d prefer it if you consulted me before bringing in anyone. Okay?” She didn’t answer, and only stared back at her before turning and going into the booth. Her mother smiled and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Okay,” the sound guy said, “we’re doing ‘Love Aesthetics’ again. Winny, whenever you’re ready we’ll queue the track.” Inside the booth, Winny put on her headphones, clearly irritated.

  Everyone else went back to their business. Michael, who I later learned was Winny’s manager, went back to his spot on the couch. Linda pretended I wasn't even there. I began to wonder why I had even come, and why Winny had asked me to. It was obviously a terrible idea. I moved to the rear couches and set down my camera bag, unpacking my camera and attaching a lens to it. I wanted to just leave, but I knew that would be a terrible idea and would blow my cover as unsuspecting photographer.

  “Alright,” Winny said, her voice coming clear over the monitor speakers.

  The song was slow and heartfelt, about lost love, and it seemed like everything about Winny’s composition changed. Singing these cookie cutter pop songs might not have been her passion, but she was clearly gifted and took the work very seriously. She sang with raw emotion, moving her body with the beat, her face tensed up in a look of heartfelt emotion as she belted through an intense part of the song. I was blown away, inspired, and moved at both the power in her voice and at her skill, and for a moment I forgot I was supposed to be taking photos.

  Winny’s mom nodded along and raised and lowered a flattened out hand in line with the pitch, and when the song ended she let out a satisfied, “yesss. That was the one.” Winny came out from the booth, and she hugged her. “Very good, honey, very good.”

  “Thanks, mom,” she said.

  “Moving on?” Michael asked.

  “Yessir, Mr. Bryant,” the recording guy replied. “Can’t Believe Us is the next track.”

  “Let’s take just a quick break,” Winny said. “I need to speak with my photographer about my project.”

  “Honey, you’re all warmed up, you really shouldn’t—”

  “Ten minutes?”

  She narrowed her eyes disapprovingly, but didn’t say anything.

  “Fine,” Michael said. “Ten minute break. I’ve got a call I need to make anyway.”

  Winny lead me outside and down the hallway, chatting to me the whole time about our non-existent photography project until we stepped outside the building and into the back. “I can see what you meant about your mom,” I said.

  “She’s very passionate about what I do,” she said. “Probably more than I am at this point.”

  “You’re amazing, Winny. You say you’re not passionate, but watching you it’s really hard to believe that.”

  “Practice,” she said simply.

  “Practice? I don’t know. People could practice their entire lives and not be nearly as good as you. It’s not just your voice…it’s everything.”

  We turned a corner into a hidden spot near some water pipes jutting out from the side of the building. The low drone of an air conditioning vent sounded above, and we were completely alone. I startled as Winny suddenly spun and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me up close to her. She kissed me with an intensity that topped the night before, and my legs actually felt a little weak, something I had never experienced before in my whole life. I kissed her back, meeting her with as much as I could give.

  “I was thinking about doing that to you the whole time,” she whispered. “Maybe that’s why I seemed so good.”

  “Maybe,” I whispered back.

  “I lied. I’ve been thinking about doing that to you since the moment you walked into my door last night. I can’t stop thinking about you, Lily. About us.” She sounded giddy, and she gave me three small kisses, planting two on my lips and one on my nose. I drew in a breath, and felt my head go literally dizzy with her scent. I pressed my face into her neck, feeling the warmth there and basking in her smell, and kissed her lightly, just above her collarbone.

  We were all alone back here and I found my mind wandering to naughty places. I wanted to get down on my knees, unbuckle her jeans and finally do the thing that I had felt so guilty fantasizing about doing for so many years of my life. I was aching to know what she would feel on my fingers, around my tongue, to see her expression and hear what her gorgeous, smooth voice sounded like when I made her come. As badly as I wanted to do it, I resisted. I wasn't going to jeopardize her career like that, and I wasn’t going to jeopardize us. And it was a good thing I did, because the crisp clopping of approaching heels made us jump apart like opposite magnets.

  “Do you think that a photo book is doable?” Winny said quickly. I raised an eyebrow, and then quickly understood.

  “Definitely. It’s something I could put together for you with no problem at all. In fact—”

  “Oh, there you are. Why are you all the way out back here? Come, it’s been ten minutes, the team will be waiting for you.” It was Linda, and again she all but ignored my presence, giving me a quick side glance. She held on to her arm like she was a lost child. She made a quick glance over her shoulder at me and gave me an apologetic smile. I grinned back and shook my head. I didn’t like Linda. She was one of those I’m-better-than-you Hollywood rich types who treated service workers like they were subhuman, and it was apparent that she had taken it upon herself to try and micromanage as much of her daughter’s life as possible.

  We returned to the recording studio, and on the way I had considered excusing myself to avoid the unpleasantness of having to be around a bunch of people who obviously didn’t want me there, but I knew I had to stay to make sure my ruse as Winny’s new photographer stuck.

  A little later, the door to the studio opened and I was surprised to see Frankie standing there, wearing a large Louis Vuitton backpack and eyes covered in dark shades. He removed the sunglasses and, and for the first time that day I saw Linda’s expression change to one that could be called warm. She let out a little squeal of delight and held out her hands to Frankie, giving him a big hug. “Honey, I wasn’t expecting you to come by!” she exclaimed.

  “Just thought I’d swing by on my way to the studio, see how you and Winny were.”

  “Oh, well I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you. And maybe you can talk some sense into her, tell her to be more cautious with who she associates herself with. She went out and hired a random photographer for some personal project of hers without even consulting me.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I think that girl doesn't give any thought about who she is.”

  “She’s a dreamer,” Frankie said. “She likes to follow her heart on things.”

  “And it’s going to get her in trouble one of these days. She has to learn to think with her head, too.”

  Yes, she did, I thought. She needed to stop, think, and realize that following her passion was better than living a lie!

  And that was when something clicked inside my head. Wasn't that exactly what I was doing? Living a lie? Wasn’t it what I had agreed to, going into this thing with her? Today I had experienced Winny’s skill. During our time alone together, I had felt her passion and heard the emptiness in her voice that appeared when she talked about it, l
ike it was something lost, too late to ever attain. I badly wanted for her to be able to follow that path, to realize that it wasn't too late. How could I want that for her when I was hiding too?

  I realized then that keeping our relationship a secret was going to be much more difficult than I had thought.

  “Oh, hey!” Frankie turned and saw me. “It’s you.” He gave me a puzzled look, waiting for my explanation. It was obvious he knew that I wasn’t here as Winny’s girl.

  “I’m shooting photos for the project,” I said. “Good to see you again, Frankie.” I shook his hand.

  “Right, the project,” he said knowingly, but he still looked a little puzzled like he couldn’t believe I was actually there. The track ended, and Winny came out from the booth. She grinned when she saw Frankie.

  “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” she said.

  “Hey, babe,” Frankie replied, and he gave her a kiss. I felt just the slightest tinge of jealousy, but knew it was unfounded. Mostly I was just impressed at how good an actor he was—both of them, actually. The fact that they were able to be so natural about faking it around so many people was impressive. Winny flashed me a secret look of apology, and immediately afterwards Frankie did too. “I’m just on my way to the studio, thought I’d drop by,” he said to her. “We’re doing a table read for the new Madagascar penguin movie. I was surprised to see Lily here, I didn’t think you two would be starting your project so soon.”