“Oh my god, can I Snapchat this?” Megan asks me.
Before I can answer, Talia pipes up. “No social media inside the studio. In fact, no photos or recording of any kind. Normally we’d collect your phones but . . .”
“No need for that, we’re all friends, right?” says Leah as she walks up to us. “Any friend of Penny’s is a friend of mine.”
“Leah! So good to see you!”
“And you too, Penny!” We give each other a huge hug.
“This is Posey and Megan, my two friends who are studying at the Madame Laplage School for the Arts.”
“So nice to meet you both!” She reaches out and gives them both hugs too, even though they are frozen stock-still like statues. Leah’s used to having that effect on people. “Wow, Madame Laplage—I know a few other singers who went there. What an awesome opportunity.”
“Oh, it’s amazing,” says Megan, recovering from the hug faster than Posey. She flips her chestnut hair, sending it cascading across her shoulders. “We get real vocal training there, which will set us up for the rest of our careers.”
A small frown flits across Leah’s face. My jaw almost falls to the floor at Megan’s rudeness. Was she making a dig at Leah’s singing—within two seconds of meeting her?
But the frown disappears before Megan can register it, and Leah’s smooth smile is back again. She turns it on Posey next, who is shaking like a leaf. Leah reaches out, takes Posey’s hand and leads her over to one of the sofas. Leah hops onto the cushions, crossing her legs underneath her. Posey follows her obediently, and I can see the tension relax from her shoulders. I marvel at Leah’s ability to make someone feel at ease without even having to say a word.
“So, Posey, I hear you have some trouble with stage fright?” says Leah, getting straight to the point.
Posey looks up at me with alarm in her eyes. “You told Leah Brown about my stage fright?”
I nod. “I—”
“She told me,” says Leah before I can say anything else, “because she knows I can help. I went through it too.”
Posey blinks. “You did?”
Leah nods. “I did. But before we get into that, I’d love to be able to hear you sing? Please?”
“Oh no . . . I couldn’t. I can’t! I’m such a huge fan of yours . . .”
Leah waves her hand dismissively in front of her face. “No, no, none of that. Does it trigger your fright to sing for a small group?”
Posey wrings her hands, the bracelets on her wrist clinking together. “Not normally. It’s really only a stage and large audience thing . . .”
Leah nods sagely. “I get that. The recording booth is so dark you can forget you’re even there. The glass can be tinted so it’s only one way. Will you sing for me?”
Posey thinks about it for a moment, then nods. “OK.”
Leah claps her hands together. “Great! Have you been in a live room before?”
Posey shakes her head.
“Oh, don’t worry, it’s easy. Just head through the door, make yourself comfortable in front of the mic—sit on the stool or stand, whichever you want—then put on the headphones. Then there’s a button on the side that you can use to communicate with us in the control room, and vice versa. You can just start when you’re ready.”
“OK,” Posey says, before biting her bottom lip. She stands up slowly, then walks a little shakily through into the other half of the studio. My eyes follow her. She reaches the stool and moves it aside. When she sees the microphone, though, her eyes light up.
“She looks like a natural in there,” says Leah. “Here, pull up a chair to the mixing console, you two.”
Megan and I drag a couple of ergonomic rolling chairs from the corner of the room and slide them over to the huge mixing console—a table on a slight tilt with what seems like a million buttons on it. I’m grateful suddenly that my camera only has a few as even those are tricky enough.
“Impressive, right?” says Leah, as I stare at the rows and rows of controls.
“You’re telling me!”
“We have three of these in the basement at Madame Laplage,” says Megan. “They’re top of the line and donated by a former student.”
“Well, you’re really lucky. I didn’t get into one of these babies until I was signed up by Sony! Before that I was just recording in my bedroom . . . Trust me, when you have three younger brothers, no room in the house is soundproof.”
There’s a short beep and then a barely audible voice comes through the speakers. “I think I’m ready,” says Posey.
Leah presses one of the buttons on the mixing table. “Great!”
We all stare through the glass at Posey, but she’s not looking at us. In fact, her eyes are closed and she’s nodding her head to hidden music. Then, almost without warning, she breaks into Maria’s section of “Tonight” from West Side Story.
As her incredible soprano voice fills the room, the three of us lean back in our chairs, blown away by her talent and tingling all over with goosebumps.
And, when the song finishes, Leah Brown leaps from her chair and gives Posey a standing ovation.
Chapter Fifteen
When Posey comes back into the control room, her cheeks are glowing with the flush of singing such a demanding piece. “Thanks, guys,” she says, as we continue applauding. Even Megan joins in, unable to hold back her appreciation.