He takes my good hand and leads me down the hall to theextra room. He’s been working on it while I’ve been recovering, so I haven’t seen the setup yet.
When we get inside, he takes me into the large booth he built, and I’m confused when I find two microphones there.
“Why are there two?”
He swallows hard, looking a little uncertain. “I was hoping you’d be willing to try recording with me. I thought we could work on your first interconnected standalone series together. You have a beautiful voice, and while there will still be a learning curve, I think you can do this, and it will give you something to focus on while you can’t write.”
I stare at him with big eyes. My throat feels tight, and it’s hard to swallow.
“You did this for me?”
“For us. Selfishly, I think we could have a lot of fun recording together. I’d love to give it a try. And I can give you some tips and instruction as we go. Worst case, we hate it, but I don’t have another narrating job booked until late August, so we have time to play.”
“Okay.”
His face lights up. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
He jumps into action. “Okay. I have your first interconnected standalone ready to go.”
“Wait, how?”
“I got it off your laptop while you were high on the good drugs.”
“Sneaky.”
He shrugs. “I was excited by the idea.”
“Well, keep it together until we see how I do. This could be legitimately terrible.”
“Then at least we’ll have a good laugh. Come on, darlin’. I’ll get you all set up.”
This is really fun.I mean, I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m constantly getting instruction from Justin and rerecording things, but it’s a lot of fun. Bringing my words to life gives me a rush of excitement I haven’t had in a long time.
We’re recording them duet style, so me speaking the female parts and him speaking the male parts no matter whose POV we’re in.
When we played the first chapter back, I found plenty of places where I can improve, but Ilovedit. It also awakens a part of me I haven’t used in a long time. My junior and senior years of college, I started doing improv. I’m fairly extroverted, but I tended to struggle with extemporaneous speaking, and it gave me some social anxiety. My dad suggested improv, and I thought he was crazy. Getting on stage and feeling uncomfortable in front of people? But it helped me a lot, and I credit it with my comfort at events and signings, and even my ability to talk with readers and other authors.
Recording with Justin, I’m remembering some of the lessons I learned there.
“What do you think?” Justin asks, removing his headphones.
“This was a brilliant idea. And I’d love to keep going. It might be a labor of love while I learn, but?—”
“I don’t care. I’m in.”
“Thank you for doing this. It’s an outlet I didn’t know I needed, but it instantly calmed some of the restlessness I’ve been feeling.”
“Good. That’s what I was hoping for.”
He leans in and kisses my forehead, sending butterflies dancing through my stomach.
“More tomorrow?” I ask.
Justin smiles. “As much as you want.”
I wrap my good arm around him in a hug, closing my eyes and breathing deep, inhaling his scent as I revel in the feeling of his body so close to mine. In the peace I feel with his arms around me.
