Ours To Be (All Ours, #1)

Chapter 15

Kayden

''Crick up the kickdrums, Nate, and then I want you to add high hats.''

Studio days can be fucking exhausting through some sessions. It's one of those days.

I've been here since eight in the morning, working on this album with Abel. It's after five and we've gotten five out of fifteen songs finalized, now working on the sixth. We're trying to finish up the track list by the end of the month so we can start selecting the drop date and make arrangements for the album cover and promotion tours around the country.

''The snares are still too fucking high. Fade it out, please.'' I'm not a producer whatsoever, Nathan is brilliant in front of the booth and behind the screens. The guy's got a big melodious gift and knows exactly what he's doing, that's why I took him under my wing years ago and offered him a position at Dom-In. He is my right hand man in this industry, if I'm in a studio, he's there with me.

''From the chorus. Three, two, one and...'' Nate calls out through the receiver after counting in my modifications.

It's been going like this for hours now. Him calling out instructions, me adding on and assembling. Also counting down the minutes to when it would be professionally acceptable for me to get out of here.

On a normal day, I wouldn't even check the time and we'd probably be stuck here till after midnight. But I got places to be today.

I push myself off the Cabriole and move behind Nathans desk chair that's in front of the recordings glass setting where Abel's vocals are coming from. ''How long before we can we wrap this shit up?'' I keep my voice low, not wanting to interfere with Abel's verse.

He presses some kind of switch right under his nose, muting the vocals coming through the earpiece, draping the headset over his neck and leaving them choruses over to the other producer in the room with us. He leans his body back on the comfortable chair. ''What's the hurry?'' he quirks a brow. I know he isn't used to me rushing to get out of a studio.

''I asked you a fucking question.'' I don't make a habit of running around, acting like the big scary boss man, like my father does. But I can't fucking stand it when I ask somebody that works for me a question and they dash one out themselves instead of giving a straight answer.

''I need a few more takes on this chorale. I'll edit them at home if you really wanna roll.'' He concludes. That's all I wanted to hear.

''Make it quick.'' I edict. I don't think she's as eager to see me as I am impatient to get there and look at her beautiful face. But yes, you best believe I'm fucking speeding through this shit.

''Hot date?'' I look up to see him smirking from the glass of the booth, eyes shining with playfulness, his shaggy blonde hair falling over his face fuzzily.

He needs to get a fucking haircut.

I suppress a snort. ''I fucking wish.'' That girl would've been mine a long time ago if I knew she'd agree to go out with me. I shake my head, pushing my wishful thinking aside. ''Anyway. I wanna be out of here by six.''

''So... this wouldn't be the right time to remind you its five-forty?'' I swear this guy gets off on annoying the residing daylight out of me. There can't be any other explanation for him being this irksome.

''So then I guess this wouldn't be the right time to remind you that is what I pay you for?'' I shoot back. He shuts his trap, immediately going back to the system he was working.

''Give me ten minutes.'' He draws the bulk button up and puts the headset back over his ears.

''Perfect.'' I'll get the place closed up in the meantime.