and that he loved her, she couldn’t quite shake the way that Kobe’s betrayal still haunted her. Brenton was different, and Amber knew that. But in spite of being as different from her previous boyfriend as it was possible for any man to be, she couldn’t quite bring herself to completely trust him.
Her doubts, her insecurities, her anger, her grief, and her need for more had all found its way into her songs. The feedback from the label was more and more positive, and Rebecka from A&R was getting more and more excited about the marketing potential. Her publicist, working with Amber’s management under Carl, had started reaching out to the press, getting positive attention on her once more. Her sessions in the studio were interrupted by cameras and quick interviews for promotional material. The decision had been to portray her as completely over Kobe; that her comeback was as much about her new artistic freedom as it was about getting free of Kobe’s cheating ways.
David understood that strategy was important—he allowed the journalists and Amber’s publicists alike into the studio, had spoken on the record himself, telling the major magazines that he was excited about the project, that he thought that new and old fans alike would be surprised in a good way. It was just as Amber had explained it to Brenton; having a major producer on her side was an important tool in the process of not just getting the album made but making sure it was properly promoted.
Amber stepped back from the microphone as she finished her take, closing her eyes. “How was that, David?” she asked.
“Listen for yourself, woman,” David said over the intercom; Amber could hear the smile in his voice. He played back the take over the studio’s system, and Amber listened to it with a critical ear. As the playback rolled, she smiled more and more. She hadn’t told anyone the inspiration for this particular song—like all of her new material—but she could hear that somehow, David had managed to divine the real intention she’d had—and that was why he’d pushed her to so many takes. It had taken five to get it, but the quality of her voice, raw and full of soul, was exactly what she wanted it to be.
She had taken home rough mixes of everything, hurrying to Brenton’s house with jump drives to play it for him, to hear his opinion. Brenton had been as impressed as everyone else who had heard bits and pieces of the developing album—almost more impressed than the professionals she worked with. She never really told him the specific inspiration for some of her songs, but deep down, she thought he had to know; that some of the songs were about Kobe, some of them were about Brenton, some of them were about Kelsey, about Amber’s mother and friends.
“I think that’s a take, don’t you?” Amber looked over to the control room.
David laughed over the intercom. “Unless you think you can do it any better than that.” There was a challenge in his voice.
Amber shook her head, laughing out loud. “No—it’s only if you think I can do better. You’re the boss, man.”
“Let’s hang that one up for the day then. Get in here and we’ll talk about ‘Have it Your Way.’”
Amber had to keep an eye on the clock; part of the promotional effort was rehabilitating her reputation in the media. She had to be seen; she had to show up at events. Sometimes she showed up on her own, proudly self-sufficient, sometimes she brought her mother with her, both of them dressed in the finest gowns or designer outfits that Carl could get for them, their makeup impeccable, their hair perfectly done. But more and more, as she and Brenton saw each other for a longer period of time, she was inviting her boyfriend to come with her, to be her escort. They joked about his life in the public eye, and she knew that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the role he played, but she was grateful to be seen with such a beautiful man escorting her. She was glad
Her doubts, her insecurities, her anger, her grief, and her need for more had all found its way into her songs. The feedback from the label was more and more positive, and Rebecka from A&R was getting more and more excited about the marketing potential. Her publicist, working with Amber’s management under Carl, had started reaching out to the press, getting positive attention on her once more. Her sessions in the studio were interrupted by cameras and quick interviews for promotional material. The decision had been to portray her as completely over Kobe; that her comeback was as much about her new artistic freedom as it was about getting free of Kobe’s cheating ways.
David understood that strategy was important—he allowed the journalists and Amber’s publicists alike into the studio, had spoken on the record himself, telling the major magazines that he was excited about the project, that he thought that new and old fans alike would be surprised in a good way. It was just as Amber had explained it to Brenton; having a major producer on her side was an important tool in the process of not just getting the album made but making sure it was properly promoted.
Amber stepped back from the microphone as she finished her take, closing her eyes. “How was that, David?” she asked.
“Listen for yourself, woman,” David said over the intercom; Amber could hear the smile in his voice. He played back the take over the studio’s system, and Amber listened to it with a critical ear. As the playback rolled, she smiled more and more. She hadn’t told anyone the inspiration for this particular song—like all of her new material—but she could hear that somehow, David had managed to divine the real intention she’d had—and that was why he’d pushed her to so many takes. It had taken five to get it, but the quality of her voice, raw and full of soul, was exactly what she wanted it to be.
She had taken home rough mixes of everything, hurrying to Brenton’s house with jump drives to play it for him, to hear his opinion. Brenton had been as impressed as everyone else who had heard bits and pieces of the developing album—almost more impressed than the professionals she worked with. She never really told him the specific inspiration for some of her songs, but deep down, she thought he had to know; that some of the songs were about Kobe, some of them were about Brenton, some of them were about Kelsey, about Amber’s mother and friends.
“I think that’s a take, don’t you?” Amber looked over to the control room.
David laughed over the intercom. “Unless you think you can do it any better than that.” There was a challenge in his voice.
Amber shook her head, laughing out loud. “No—it’s only if you think I can do better. You’re the boss, man.”
“Let’s hang that one up for the day then. Get in here and we’ll talk about ‘Have it Your Way.’”
Amber had to keep an eye on the clock; part of the promotional effort was rehabilitating her reputation in the media. She had to be seen; she had to show up at events. Sometimes she showed up on her own, proudly self-sufficient, sometimes she brought her mother with her, both of them dressed in the finest gowns or designer outfits that Carl could get for them, their makeup impeccable, their hair perfectly done. But more and more, as she and Brenton saw each other for a longer period of time, she was inviting her boyfriend to come with her, to be her escort. They joked about his life in the public eye, and she knew that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the role he played, but she was grateful to be seen with such a beautiful man escorting her. She was glad
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