Chapter 3

He kept his gaze on the ground, not in the mood for eye contact. "Yeah? What is it?" he asked, sounding more like someone being dragged into helping a kid than someone greeting an old friend.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Ray Ray?" That voice and that nickname. They clicked instantly in his head.

He lifted his eyes, and whatever hint of expression was on his face disappeared. "Yeah... it has been quite a while, huh, Amaya."

The three friends around him immediately looked from Ray to Amaya. Elara stiffened—she could feel something off in the air. Something heavy, but Jack and Noelle remained oblivious.

"Do you two know each other?" Noelle asked, her voice bright with curiosity.

There was a pause. The background chatter from the crowd filled the silence. Then Amaya spoke, her voice soft but clear. "Yes. We were childhood friends. And also... we were best friends."

Elara opened her mouth to say something, but Jack beat her to it. "Ahhh, which would explain why he doesn't want your autograph. You probably gave him a dozen already." He smirked, proud of the deduction.

"So you guys are best friends and childhood friends?!" Noelle practically bounced with excitement. "Why didn't you tell us, Ray?! And that nickname, 'Ray Ray', it's so cute!"

"Were," Ray corrected flatly.

That one word was enough. Elara, who had spent countless hours in the booth beside him, instantly picked up on the shift in his tone.

Still, Noelle was too excited to notice. "But why didn't you ever tell us?!" She grabbed him by the shoulders and started shaking him like a soda can.

Behind the flurry of motion, Amaya's smile flickered for the briefest second. Then it snapped back into place, bright and perfect.

"He was probably too embarrassed to say anything," she said with a light laugh. "That's just the way he is."

Noelle, taking that as absolute truth, shook him harder. "Why would you be embarrassed to have her as your childhood friend?!"

Ray exhaled slowly. "Stop shouting. People are already giving us weird looks, and my head's spinning."

That made Noelle freeze. She let go of him immediately and stepped back with a pout, arms crossed. "Fine."

"Anyway, what are you even doing here, Amaya?" Ray asked, still trying to shake off his dizziness.

"I have to record one of my new songs. There's a sound engineer here I'm supposed to work with," she explained casually. That instantly caught the attention of Elara, Noelle, and Jack.

Elara, Noelle, and Jack immediately began peppering Amaya with questions, what the song was about, when it would release, if it had a music video. Amaya answered each one with enthusiasm, her energy pulling them in.

Ray took the opportunity to quietly slip away. While his friends were distracted, he made his way over to his parents, who were chatting with some other people. He pulled out his phone and checked his email, no new commission notifications. Yet.

After a while, his parents finally decided it was time to leave. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and followed them toward the car, doing his best to avoid being seen by his friends, who were starting to look around for him.

Once they reached the car, Ray gently placed his two bags, each containing a laptop, into the back before sliding into the seat. His father started the engine and turned on the AC, then pulled out of the parking spot.

"Amaya's really grown, don't you think?" his father said, just as Ray was about to put his earphones in.

"I can't believe she became that famous already," his mother added, still clearly amazed.

"Aren't you proud of her, Ray?" she asked, turning her attention toward him.

Ray hesitated for a few seconds before replying in a low voice, "Yeah... I guess I am." He turned his head to the window.

"I remember how you two were inseparable. Always sticking together," his father said with a small chuckle.

"Oh, yeah," his mother added, laughing softly. "When it was time to go home, you two would always grumble about it."

Ray didn't respond. He stayed quiet, lost in thought, while his parents continued reminiscing about the past.

A few minutes later, they arrived home. Ray remembered he had an appointment with a client in two hours. Once the car was parked in the driveway, he grabbed both of his laptop bags and headed inside. He walked straight to his room, dropped the bags on his bed, then grabbed a change of clothes form his wardrobe and headed into the bathroom.

Ray stepped out of the bathroom, hair still faintly damp, he already had his change of clothes already on. He grabbed his phone from the desk and gave the screen a quick glance, trying to see if there was a message from the client. When he saw there was none, he checked the time. An hour and forty minutes until the meetup.

He set a one-hour timer before dropping into his chair. His fingers hovered briefly before pressing the power button on his PC. As the machine hummed to life, he opened his inbox on his phone to see what commissions were waiting.

As usual, most were song-related, requests to clean up instrumentals, fix vocal tracks, or balance sound effects. He figured it'd be best to handle the vocals first. They were usually quicker to sort out. He downloaded the files from his commission bin, renamed them according to each song title, and sorted them into folders. One by one, clean and efficient.

With a few clicks, he loaded the first vocal file into his editing software, pulled out his headphones, and pressed play. Muffled. The voice had no clarity almost as if it had been recorded through a sock. Probably a budget mic. He opened the PEQ and started adjusting frequencies, dialing back the mud and bringing out the clarity in the singer's tone. After a few tweaks and a full playback, it sounded clean enough.

The moment he hit play on the next file, he winced. This one was all over the place, notes drifting off key like a drunk trying to walk a straight line. He leaned back, exhaled slowly through his nose. He'd gotten a bit too confident about how much he could finish in one hour. He had forgotten how some people really did just hit record and hope for the best.

Without hesitation, he opened VoxAligner, dropped in the vocal file, and zeroed in on the pitch. Coloured blobs filled the screen in scattered chaos. He zoomed in and started realigning each note by ear, dragging them into place one by one.

***

An hour passed quicker than expected. When the timer buzzed, Ray had only managed to finish six out of the seventeen vocal tracks. Not ideal, but he wasn't too surprised. He saved his work and marked the completed files so he wouldn't lose track later, likely tonight, when he picked things back up.

Afterward, he glanced at the mirror nearby, debating whether or not to style his hair. One look was enough to decide. It wasn't terrible, and honestly, he didn't feel like putting in the effort. He went downstairs and he grabbed his father's car keys from the hook near the entrance, then walked into the living room where his dad was relaxing on the couch, eyes locked on the TV.

"Dad, I'm taking the car. I've got a client to meet," Ray said, already halfway into the room.

His dad turned slightly, throwing him a lazy smirk. "Just don't scratch it. I like my paint job."

Ray chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Can you let Mom know I won't be home for dinner?"

"She was thinking of ordering out anyway, so you're good," his dad replied, already turning his attention back to the screen.

"I'll head out then." Ray slipped on his shoes by the door and stepped outside.

He walked up the driveway and hit the unlock button on the keys. The car's lights blinked in response. He slid into the driver's seat, pressed the ignition button, and eased out of the driveway. As he drove, he tapped his phone's screen at a red light and double-checked the meeting location. A café, one of those pricey, glass-windowed places that made him hope the client would pick up the tab.

Even with decent income from his audio gigs, he wasn't about to pass up a free meal. The light turned green. Ray turned up the radio, leaned back slightly, and let the music fill the car as he made his way across town.