Andre Harris was halfway through layering a bassline when his phone buzzed on the edge of the mixing console. He glanced at the screen and saw Tori's name flashing. She'd been calling him a lot lately, usually with updates about the reunion she was planning. He smiled to himself, hit pause on the track, and answered.
"Tori," he said, leaning back in his chair. "What's up?"
"Andre!" she exclaimed, her voice bright and full of excitement. "Guess who just RSVP'd? Cat!"
He couldn't help but grin. "No way. That's awesome, Tori. I know you've been hoping she'd come."
"I have," Tori admitted. "I mean, it's Cat! It wouldn't feel right without her there. I just had to tell you. Isn't this great?"
"It is," Andre said, glancing back at his computer screen, where the session's audio waveforms sat frozen. "But hey, I'm in the middle of a session right now. Can I call you back?"
"Oh, of course," Tori said quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Talk later?"
"Definitely," Andre promised. "Catch you soon."
He hung up and set his phone down, turning back to the project in front of him. "Sorry about that," he said to the young artist sitting across from him in the small recording booth.
"All good," the artist replied, leaning casually against the wall. "Important call?"
Andre nodded, giving them a reassuring smile. "Old friend. She's putting together a reunion for my high school. Anyway, where were we? The bridge, right? Let's run it again."
The artist nodded, adjusting their headphones as Andre pressed play. The room filled with sound, rich and layered, and Andre's fingers danced over the controls, tweaking levels and adjusting effects. Producing music was second nature to him now, the rhythms and harmonies a language he spoke fluently.
It hadn't always been this way. After graduating from Hollywood Arts, Andre had spent years chasing the spotlight with Tori, recording demos, performing in small venues, and sending out his music to anyone who would listen. He'd dreamed of hearing his name on the radio, seeing it on album covers, and headlining sold-out tours.
But the industry wasn't what he'd imagined. It was cutthroat and unforgiving, full of broken promises and deals that never quite materialized. Andre had talent, but so did everyone else, and for a while, it felt like he was shouting into a void.
It was during one of those moments of doubt that he'd taken a chance and sent a demo to a producer he admired. To his surprise, they responded, not with an offer to record his songs but with an invitation to collaborate behind the scenes. At first, Andre had hesitated. Producing wasn't the dream; performing was. But he needed the money, and he figured it couldn't hurt to try.
What started as a temporary gig quickly became something more. Andre discovered that he loved being in the studio, crafting songs from the ground up, and helping other artists find their sound. His first major credit was a pop hit that dominated the charts for weeks, though his name was buried in the small print of the album's liner notes. It didn't matter. For the first time, he felt like he was part of something bigger.
Since then, he'd built a reputation as a go-to producer, working with some of the biggest names in the industry. His work was everywhere—on the radio, in commercials, in movie soundtracks. But unless you knew where to look, you'd never know it was him. He wasn't a star; he was the guy behind the stars, the one who made the magic happen and then stepped back into the shadows.
"Alright," Andre said as the track came to an end. "That was good, but let's try it one more time. Put a little more emotion into the second verse. Think about what those lyrics mean to you."
The artist nodded, their eyes lighting up with understanding. Andre smiled. This was his favourite part of the job, seeing that moment when everything clicked.
As the artist began to sing again, Andre's mind drifted back to Tori's call. To Tori—a girl who had made it in the industry, and it scarred her. As much as she wouldn't admit it—it gave her everything she could've ever wanted and then took it all away again just as fast. She couldn't tell anymore if she craved the fame or just wanted normality, to act like it never happened.
The track ended, and Andre leaned forward, hitting the intercom button. "That's the one. Great job."
The artist beamed, and Andre stood, stretching as he gestured for them to come into the control room. "Let's lay down some harmonies, and then we'll call it a day."
As they worked, Andre's phone buzzed again, but he ignored it this time. There would be plenty of time later to think about the past and the people in it. For now, he had a song to finish.