Taking Something Read Online Free PDF Page A

too anxious. If I did a good job on Sadie's album maybe I would get a chance to work on his next one.
    Landry's music was more my style, but if I had to suffer through a pop album with Sadie Sinclair to get there, I'd do it.
    “Good luck with that one,” he added as his father stood up to leave.
    As Hollace passed me on his way out, he clapped me roughly on the shoulder. “You pull this off and you're in.”

I T FELT like Christmas morning when I walked into the studio Westwood Records had reserved for me and Sadie.
    I'd been in one before, but never a top-of-the line studio. Shiny new control panels and mixing boards. A station for digital hook-up with a giant monitor. I was pretty pumped about that considering I did most of my freelance work on my laptop.
    As cool as the digital option of mixing music was, I couldn't wait to get my hands on the board. There was nothing like feeling the slides move under your fingers as the bass increased, or a vocal echoed, or a snare kicked in. I looked through the acrylic window into the recording studio and imagined how many great artists had stood on the other side of the mic hanging from the ceiling. And how many I would get to see there.
    This place was my dream and I had the opportunity to seize it. I reached down and hit the power button, lighting up all the controls and gauges in front of me. The hum of the speakers was quiet, but I could hear it and I felt my heart speed as I let out a sigh. This was it. My future.
    “You want to be alone?” a voice called out. I quickly turned on my heels and saw the person holding the keys to the studio. Sadie. Her long auburn hair hung straight down past her shoulders with an embellished headband across the top of head. Her usually bare legs were covered by a pair of tight jeans that were tucked into black riding boots. I could see that the lacy black tank that she was wearing under a practically see-through green top, hugged her tits perfectly. My cock noticed too.
    “Maybe with you.” I gave her a devilish grin. She was fucking hot. Like needed to-be-fucking-me hot.
    “Wouldn't that be fun,” she replied, never missing a beat as she took a step toward me.
    “Could be,” I flirted back. “Very fun.”
    “How about you prove to me that you’re not a complete tool on the mixing board first?”
    “Oh, you mean you didn't come by just to see me?” I placed my hand over my heart, acting as if she'd broken it.
    I was supposed to get one day alone in the studio to set up the track list for recording. I should have known better than to think I'd actually get to be alone. I knew why she was there. She thought I was an amateur. I was about to prove her wrong in more ways than one.
    “Nope. I came by to see what kind of producer Hollace hired me. I don't want to sound like a bitch, but I Googled you. You have no experience. I need someone who knows what the hell they are doing. This record has to be perfect. I'm not sure that you're qualified for this job.”
    So much for not sounding like a bitch.
    “Look, I totally get your reservations about me,” I placated her, even though I knew I was more than qualified to produce her album. It was cookie cutter pop music. Anyone with half a brain could do it. “I may not have much experience with actual singers, but I've been mixing music since I was a kid.”
    “You're just a deejay, Nick. And no offense, but that is not the same as a music producer.”
    “You're right. Spinning records is about playing to a crowd. Finding that perfect rhythm for any circumstance. Sometimes they want a carefree club mix to dance around to. Other times they want a slow, sensual song to grind up on someone to. I know how to read people and that's beneficial in both cases. I'm a people pleaser, but I'm also an artist.”
    “How so?”
    “Well, for one I can read you. I know that you want people to hear a new side of you. To hear the grown-up version of Sadie Sinclair.”
    “That's not reading me, Nick. I