CHAPTER THREE
THE RULES OF SELINA
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA
My label has decided if I can put together 5 songs, they'll schedule me for collabs which would be insane. Today, I was recording my fifth song, Recipe of Hate. Most people didn't know Selina Maxwell since I wasn't a large artist yet but I was hoping to become one. I placed my pencil down on the table, running my hands through my dark hair, my eyes still trained on the lyrics in front of me.
"TJ? What do you think about this?" I asked, lifting my notepad, while he looked away from his computer. His eyes scanned the paper, and he nodded, shortly. "I fuck with that better than the first revision,"
"Okay, so should I step inside again?" I asked, and he nodded, moving to his setup. We used his software to create a melody that was focused around a cello. He added drums, a closed hi-hat, and a snare drum for the beat along with a guitar for some bass. It was a soft song but the beat highlighted the anger that was seeping through my veins.
I put the headphones on my head and stepped in front of the microphone. Since we had already recorded half of the song, we just needed the finish the rest.
"Alright, remember what I said. Ride the music don't let the music ride you," He sent me a thumb up from behind the glass window, and I sent him one back, soon the melody began playing through my headphones.
"You're mine when you see me but she's a call away. You put me back together just to throw me apart, baby. I should have listened to all the girls that said that's your art, maybe," I sang, and soon the music stopped at the expected measure.
"I don't know what I did but let me double the baby and the maybe. I think it would sound cool with another note," I assured, and he pressed a button near him.
"Alright, we'll do another take of that and then we'll focus on adding more," He said, earning a smile from me. I sang the lyrics again and then we focused on perfecting baby and maybe. On both those words, I could hear myself harmonize and it added depth to the song.
"I'm at your mercy but tell me would you come if I rang your line? You picked me up to throw me against the wall, yet you're still on my mind. I didn't know I was replaceable but here you are with your new valentine. When you touched my skin, I knew you felt my heart rate. But us together is my Recipe of Hate," The words flowed out of my mouth with emotion and a single tear dropped out of my eye.
"Yeah, I like that chorus," TJ told me, nodding his head. The music started again and I began singing the bridge of the song. "Ever since you changed, we don't have fun these days. And this used to be our world but look what you've done. When you stopped loving me, I believed it just was a phrase. I guess when the lights went out, it meant you're my Recipe of Hate, oh yeah,"
When the music stopped, I narrowed my eyes while thinking. "Should I do a quick 'you've done, baby' after 'look what you've done?'"
"Yes Ma'am," He said, soon the music played again. I closed my eyes and listened to my voice.
And this used to be our world but look what you've done
"You've done, baby," I said in a higher pitch, and the music stopped. "Can we copy and paste this section and add more? I'd love to get another note on the yeah?"
"Yes I love that but I was also thinking for the 'I guess when the lights went out, it meant you're my Recipe of Hate' part, you could harmonize yourself a bit. So I'll pitch you there and have you do another higher and lower," He said, and I found myself agreeing with his idea.
"Sure,"
"I guess when the lights went out, it meant you're my Recipe of Hate, yeah," I sang the words but in a bass harmony. I did the same thing again but this time in a higher pitch just like he wanted.
"And then in the background, can you do a humming sound, harmonizing as well? I think that would really give the audience a sense of comfort. So low hum, main hum, and then high hum. That will act as our filler harmony,"
For the next 5 minutes, I hummed into the microphone at different pitches to create a gentle harmony.
"And then we're gonna do you lead vocal. So all out, you know the spots," I nodded, clearing my throat just before I heard my voice again.
I'm at your mercy but tell me would you come if I rang your line?
"I'm at your mercy," I sang, making sure to hit all the high notes and stretch the 'mercy' note out. "If I rang your line,"
You picked me up to throw me against the wall, yet you're still on my mind.
"On my mind, baby,"
I didn't know I was replaceable but here you are—
"With your new valentine,"
When you touched my skin, I knew you felt my heart rate. But us together is my Recipe for Hate
"But us together is my Recipe for Hate,"
When the song came to an end, TJ stood up from his chair and started clapping. A small smile made its way to my lips while I watched it through the mirror. He hit the button so I could hear him speak. "Yeah, that's a hit right there,"
"You think so?"
"I know so. Come out here, so we can play it from the top," He said, opening the door for me. I walked out of the soundproof room, the cool AC brushing against my skin. I watched as he typed on his computer, before playing the song through the speakers.
"Oh wow," I said, nodding my head when it ended.
"Your harmonizing on the bridge was incredible because it led up to the last chorus, where you're singing high notes that most people can't reach. It shows your sadness evolving into anger,"
"You're right," I said, pulling my hair out of the ponytail. "I was thinking to add the harmonized humming before the cello so it sounds like an acapella before,"
"I like that," He nodded, editing the song. "So these are all your takes, and I'm selecting the best parts of each one to create a comped vocal. Then I'm gonna add crossfades between your cuts and run it through a fine pitch correction. It'll take me about an hour,"
"Can you edit down the volume of my breaths? I just feel like my anxiety—,"
"Don't worry, you sounded great,"
"Daddy or Chris Evans?" I asked, taking a scoop of my ice cream, the next morning. My mother ran her hands through her blonde hair and settled her green eyes on me. "Your father,"
"Daddy or Brad Pitt?"
"Oh that's easy," She said, shrugging. She lifted her hand and showed her expensive wedding band, the one my dad had given her. I rolled my eyes, and placed my chin in the palm of my hand, leaning over the island. "Daddy or—,"
"Selina, stop playing these games with your mother. You know she'll always choose me," I turned around, spotting my father walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water.
"Tom Hiddleston," I asked my mother, and her lips curved upwards. "You know, we met when I was about 26. He came to New York when I lived there,"
"The fuck?" My dad asked, his eyebrows furrowed together. "Mom, you didn't answer my question," I said, and her green eyes moved back to me. Dad stood behind mom, and she only playfully smiled. "Yeah, Blondie. You didn't answer the question,"
"Obviously you, honey," She said, and he simply hummed, nodding his head. I watched as he pecked her lips while holding her chin, mom's cheeks turning pink. My parents were head over heels for each other, it was cute.
"Before you guys have sex on the dining table. I'm going to leave and get ready," I said, closing the ice cream carton. The staff grabbed it and put it back in the freezer before cleaning my fork.
"Where are you going?" My dad asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. I crossed my arms and raised my right eyebrow. "Not to see any boys,"
"You better not be,"
"Don't mind him. Your father and I met when we were both 17 and we're married now, so you're not too young to find your soulmate," Mom said, my dad, bending down to place his chin on her shoulder. I rolled my eyes, I didn't believe in my soul mate. Romance in this generation isn't as genuine as it used to be.
"I'm just going out with Athena and Mallory—not to meet the love of my life," I cringed.