Nine o'clock on a Friday night. The streets of Toronto are buzzing and G-Major's fairly quiet, artists and producers wrapping up. Inside dimly lit studio A, Jude's singing some background vocals for "There's Us" while Tommy's sitting behind the glass tinkering with the soundboard.
"Not everything is supposed to come true
Some words are best unsaid
Some love is not really love at all
I'll keep everything I shared with you
And that's enough… there's us…." Jude sang the last line quietly.
"Beautiful," came Tommy's voice though the speaker, softer than usual. He looked up at Jude with a faint smile.
"So, I can go?" Jude asked enthusiastically, shooting Tommy a big smile and raising her eyebrows.
A firm "No" came through the speaker, Tommy's soft expression firming up. "I need you to record the chorus again with the Townsend," he said, referring to a different microphone. He stood up from his chair. "I'm gonna go grab it, be right back," he added, leaving the soundboard and disappearing through the door.
Jude gave a sigh, deciding not to protest. She impatiently checked her wristwatch as she slumped down onto the stool.
As Tommy walked through the lobby on his way to Studio C, a rough voice called his attention: Patsy. She was sprawled on a couch, her combat boot clad feet slung over the arm. "You done with blondie yet?" she asked, lazily rolling her head and looking up at him.
"Ahhh, if you're referring to Jude, almost" he said with a roll of his eyes and a raise of his brows. He was already irritated with her.
"Well hurry up, I'm taking little miss perfect out tonight", Patsy replied with a glare. She tossed the cheap tabloid she was reading up to him.
Catching it, he glared down at her. "Seriously? She's seventeen," he said with a firm tone, mouth tightening. He glanced at the magazine in his hand. The headline read, in large block letters,
Little Tommy Q's Control!
He Won't Let Jude Leave The Studio Alone
Jude Says: "He's a slave driver! I want out of my contract!"
There were photos of Tommy and Jude walking down the sidewalk side by side, with cups of coffee in their hands, looking at each other and laughing. He wouldn't deny they looked good together.
"You read this trash?" Tommy asked, exasperatedly.
"Exactly, she's seventeen. It's about time she cracks her first cold one," Patsy replied, ignoring his question. "She needs to learn how to loosen up and have fun," she sneered. Patsy knew she got under Tommy's skin. She enjoyed doing so.
"Don't get her messed up tonight," Tommy said in his do-not-mess-with-me tone. Patsy was one of very few who wasn't intimidated by him. He squatted down, face level with her, and met her gaze with narrowed eyes. A few seconds of the stare down passed before Tommy whispered, "I mean it."
Patsy smirked as he stood up and tossed the magazine back to her with more force than necessary. He turned on his heel and made his way towards Studio C, perpetually irked by everything about the woman.
"Hurry up, slave driver!" she yelled as he walked away.
Tommy fetched the mic he was looking for and walked it back to the studio, not giving Patsy a mere glance on the way past.