Taking Something Read Online Free PDF

told you that yesterday,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.
    “Yes, you did,” I conceded with a nod. “But it's not always about what you say. I can tell by the way you walk—the commanding click of your heels across the floor and the sway of your tight little ass. You want to sing the kind of music that causes a stir. You're tired of singing songs about people falling in love and teeny bopper breakups. You want to sing songs about people making love. About passion and desire. About longing and fulfillment.” Her eyes glazed over as she stared into mine. Her lips parted as she let out a slow, steady breath.
    I stepped closer to her and reached out, brushing my hand down her arm. “You want to sing songs that get under people's skin. Leaves them wanting more. You want to seduce them with your sound.”
    “I do,” she answered mindlessly, watching my hand stroke up and down her arm.
    “You don't want to just sing songs, Sadie Sinclair. You want to sing... sex .”
    Her eyes fell shut as she thought about what I was saying. I was going out on a limb with my assumption. For all I knew, she wanted to sing gospel hymns to a reggae beat. Lucky for me, the way she looked at me—like she wanted to eat me alive—was a proper assessment of exactly the kind of person she was. She finally opened her eyes and when she did, I knew I had her on the hook.
    “Okay then, let's hear it,” she insisted, pointing at the computer I was holding in my hand. “I want to see if you're any good.”
    “Oh, I assure you that I'm more than just good.” She was trying to play hardball, but if she thought for one second I didn't see the glimmer of lust in her eyes, she was crazy. “Take a seat, Miss Sinclair.” I pulled back one of the chairs for her. She hesitated, like she didn't want to seem too anxious to comply.
    I fired up my computer and pulled up a folder of tracks I'd been working on. Careful not to mess up her hair, I slipped a pair of headphones over her ears.
    She started to protest. “What are you doing? We can listen to it—”
    “In order to get the full Nick Kline experience, I need to get completely”—I paused leaning in inches from her face—“and totally in your head.” She breathed me in and relaxed into her chair. I was one song away from convincing Sadie Sinclair that I was the perfect choice for her. Musically and more.

    The next morning, Sadie showed up early. I had only been in the booth for about five minutes before she came bouncing through the door. Her eagerness to see me said that she'd been thinking about me. After she'd hugged me like I was her long-lost lover, she plopped down on the chair across from me and started telling me about a song she was working on. Just as Hollace had warned, she wanted to sing her own original music. I promised her I'd take a listen and see what we could do. She quickly pulled out her iPad and forwarded the songs to me.
    I spent the night before listening to all the tracks Vince and Hollace insisted she sing. They were right—she was going to pitch a shit fit when she heard them. I decided to ease her into it with the one song that wasn't complete fluff. It was a ballad of unrequited love with quite a few lyrics of imagery. I was hoping it was “deep and emotional” by her standards. At least enough to get her to sing it one time through. After that, I could add in the backing vocals and tune it up enough to make it sellable.
    It didn't take more than a few brooding stares to convince her to lay down the vocals on the track I already had cued up. I did have to promise that by next week we'd be recording one of her songs. I would have said whatever I’d needed to get her behind the mic that day. And so far, she'd bought everything I'd said to her.
    “Are you ready?” I asked Sadie from the control booth. It had taken her about twenty minutes to light candles, kick off her shoes, and “get into the zone,” as she called it.
    “One more minute,”