Thirty minutes flew by in a wink of an eye.
Brandon strode purposefully to the state-of-the-art recording studio right after his meeting in the office. Things were piling up from all directions but as soon as he stepped into the studio, a sense of calm washed over him.
This was his element.
Without hesitation, Brandon settled behind the mixing board, his fingers dancing across the controls with practiced ease. He closed his eyes, letting the music flow through him. A slow, sensual beat began to pulse from the speakers, setting the foundation for what was to come.
Layer by layer, Brandon built up the track. A haunting, ethereal synth line floated above the rhythm, creating an atmosphere of dark seduction.
He added a deep, throbbing bassline that seemed to resonate in his chest, perfectly complementing the sultry mood.
As the instrumental took shape, Brandon introduced subtle percussive elements - finger snaps, muted handclaps, and a crisp hi-hat pattern that added texture and depth to the composition.
The result was a lush, hypnotic soundscape that oozed sensuality and desire.
Brandon leaned back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he listened to the playback,
'The Weeknd would be proud…'
Almost as soon as the instrumental ended, a sharp knock echoed through the studio.
Knock knock.
Brandon swiveled in his chair, eyebrows raised.
Rising to his feet, he crossed the room in a few long strides and pulled open the door.
A tall, wiry man with a mane of silver hair stood before him, round wire-frame glasses perched on his nose. His hazel eyes sparkled with an intensity that seemed to radiate creative energy.
"Ah, the young maestro himself," the man exclaimed, his voice rich and theatrical. "Brandon Blackstone, or 13, a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last."
Brandon's eyes widened in recognition.
"Director Leclerc?"
"Indeed, my boy. But please, call me E.L. We artists must dispense with such formalities, don't you agree?"
E.L. swept into the room, his tweed jacket billowing behind him.
"I must confess, I've become quite the admirer of your work. Your performance at the gala... a symphony of light and shadow, a dance of rhythm and soul."
Brandon found himself both flattered and slightly overwhelmed by E.L.'s grandiose manner.
"Thank you, I'm honored-"
"No, no," E.L. interrupted, waving his hand dismissively.
"The honor is mine. You see, I find myself in need of your particular brand of genius. My latest film... it's to be my magnum opus, a mirror to the very essence of human desire. But it lacks... how shall I put it? The heartbeat, the pulse that will make it truly come alive."
E.L. had a wide friendly smile but his eyes locked onto Brandon's, his gaze intense, as if measuring him up.
Brandon calmly smiled back at E.L., gesturing towards a plush leather chair near the mixing console.
"Please, have a seat, E.L. I'd love to hear more about your project."
E.L. settled into the chair with a theatrical flourish, his eyes never leaving Brandon's face.
"Ah, my boy, you cut straight to the heart of the matter. How refreshing!" He paused, collecting his thoughts.
"Picture this: a tale of passion, of power, of the exquisite dance between dominance and submission. A young, naive woman drawn into the orbit of a powerful, enigmatic man. Their attraction... electric, dangerous, all-consuming."
E.L.'s hands moved expressively as he spoke, painting pictures in the air.
"It's a journey of self-discovery, of pushing boundaries, of exploring the darker corners of desire. The story... well, it's quite explicit, I must admit. But it's not mere titillation, no! It's an exploration of the human psyche, of the power dynamics that underpin all relationships."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"As for the soundtrack, I envision something... primal. A pulsing, throbbing undercurrent that mirrors the characters' desires. Sensual, yes, but with an edge of danger. Music that makes the audience feel as if they're teetering on the brink of something forbidden, something thrilling."
E.L. sat back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
"So, young maestro, what say you? Can you do it?"
Brandon smiled and nodded.
"No problem."
E.L.'s eyebrows shot up.
"By week's end? My boy, I admire your confidence, but..."
He sighed, running a hand through his silver mane.
"We've been through countless labels and songwriters since shooting started half a year ago and they've all failed to express what I have in mind."
Brandon's expression remained calm, a silent confidence radiating from him.
E.L. leaned forward, his tone softening.
"I admit, I'm a fan of your work. But all the songs you've performed... none of the styles quite suited-"
Brandon cut him off with a raised hand.
"How about you listen to the song, and we can discuss the rest further?"
E.L.'s mouth fell open in shock and confusion as Brandon stood up and walked into the recording booth.
E.L. Leclerc's eyes widened in disbelief as Brandon sauntered into the recording booth.
His jaw clenched, and a vein throbbed at his temple.
'The audacity of this... this child!'
E.L. fumed internally.
'Does he not comprehend the gravity of this project? The sheer magnitude of what I'm attempting to create? It's not some trifling pop ditty to be conjured up on a whim!'
Brandon stepped into the recording booth, his confidence radiating.
He approached the microphone, ready to blow E.L.'s mind with his impromptu performance. But as he opened his mouth to begin, a sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks.
'Wait a second... how am I supposed to start the track from in here? Should've called for Andre.'
He caught sight of E.L. through the glass, the director's face a storm cloud of irritation and disbelief.
'Well this is embarrassing…'
Brandon casually strolled out of the booth, desperately trying to maintain an air of nonchalance.
He pointedly ignored E.L.'s blackened expression.
Clearing his throat, Brandon addressed E.L. with forced casualness.
"So, slight change of plans. When I give you the thumbs up, could you press that big red button right there?"
He pointed to a conspicuous button on the console.
Without waiting for a response, Brandon turned on his heel and marched back into the booth, his cheeks burning.
Brandon slipped on his headphones, flashing E.L. an innocent, warm smile as he raised his thumb.
E.L. hands gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles whitening as he pushed himself toward the button.
'I've traversed the depths of human desire, plumbed the very essence of passion, and this... this whelp thinks he can satisfy my vision with some hastily cobbled together-'
The director's face remained a mask of skepticism, but he leaned forward, finger hovering over the red button.
E.L. sighed internally.
'I've already waited for hours, might as well see what the boy can do...'
As the first second of the track echoed in his earphones, a transformation came over Brandon.
His eyes drifted closed, head tilting slightly as he lost himself in the music.
When he opened his mouth to sing, his entire demeanor had changed.
"I'ma care for you~"
The words flowed from Brandon's lips, rich and sensual.
His voice caressed each syllable, imbuing them with a depth of emotion that seemed beyond his years.
"I'ma care for you, you, you, you..."