Holliewood

chapter four

$killz had his eyes fixated on the microphone as he rapped his verse. The words flowed and all the lines were perfectly laid on the beat. He rapped with a cocky demeanour and treated the microphone like a woman he was trying to seduce.

♫ You been a saint for a while, you my holy child
Demon time had you calling, I'm on speed dial ♫

Our eyes briefly met and it was unintentional, of course. I just so happened to be peaking a glance at him and he caught me looking. I was the first one to look away and clear my throat.

When the hook kicked in, $killz wrapped up his verse and I hit the button to stop recording his vocals.
I was impressed with what he had come up with in the time that we spent at the studio. He had crafted the rap so perfectly that I was mentally thanking Devon for his decision.

So much time had passed by and we had been working on making sure his verse and his vocals sounded great.

He removed the headsets and made his way out of the booth, "How was that?"

"It was good," I said, keeping my response simple. Maybe my response was an understatement, but I didn't want to inflate his ego even more.

He sat down in the chair beside me and got busy on the computer and soundboard, preparing everything for playback.

He began to play the audio while going over certain parts of it again. His head bobbed freely to the verse, as he played with his goatee.

"I think you should add something to the last two lines of my verse," he suggested.

He skimmed through the track and played the part he was talking about.

"Like sing out the words 'holy child' and 'speed dial', but make it runs, and not just falsetto harmonies," he spoke further.

I quickly envisioned his suggestion, looking towards the ceiling and reciting it under my breath.

"You're not sure about it?" He questioned, raising his brow.

"I was just picturing it and it seems like it's going to work well," I agreed with his idea.

"Let's record that then," he smiled, gulping his drink.

The contents of his bottle were moving pretty fast for someone who had been drinking it on the rocks.

Again, I found myself staring at him.

Questions marks were playing around in my head.

"Something wrong?" he tilted his head to the side.

I shook my head, "No, nothing at all."

I stood up and made my way into the booth to sing what would be the final addition of vocals to the song.

After concluding our session and finishing up, we both found ourselves exiting the label building.

"I have a feeling the song will do numbers," he said, putting one hand in his pocket and holding his notebook in the other hand.

"Me too. My manager told me that male-female duets are a guilty pleasure for many listeners."

"Word," he agreed, "and if you add in the fact that it's sexual, then that takes the cake"