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Kelvin wasn’t in his closet anymore. The acoustic foam that padded the walls put his egg cartons to shame. The high-grade material stretched around the room with a dense pattern of pyramids. He wanted to poke one to see how spongy it was. But he didn’t.

Aja shut the door behind him. The bolt latched with a piercing click. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He’d imagined himself in a real booth for years. He expected the silence. What he didn’t expect was the rush of adrenaline. He swore he could hear it pumping through his veins. His closet definitely didn’t do that.

“Whoa,” he murmured, surprising himself. His own voice sounded different. “Whoa.”

Aja walked around him and simpered. Her boots thudded on the matted floor. “First time?”

“Oh, yeah. I built one in my closet, but it’s nothing like this.”

“Your closet, huh? I know those.”

A pair of microphones stood by the viewing window. They each took one then grabbed the headphones off the mounts. Unlike his closet, nothing dangled from the ceiling or cluttered the floor. None of his clothes needed to be pushed aside, either. In here, he actually fit.

On the other side of the glass, Aja’s producer fed a track into their headphones. Aliyah sat beside her with her arms folded. Her headset pinned her hair back like a hairband. She played with her necklace, fiddling with the pendant.

“I want something hard out of you,” Aja said, raising her microphone, “None of that cutesy shit. Not this time.”

Kelvin adjusted his headset. “Okay, but that’s not really me. I kinda just keep it light. Try to be positive.”

“No, I know. Li told me, but she didn’t bring you here for that, you know? She wants something harder out of you.”

He hummed to himself then peered out the window. “Something harder, huh?”

In the glass, he saw Aliyah through his reflection. Everything blurred around her. She winked at him when he looked her direction.

He startled. “She can’t hear us, can she?”

“Nah, we’re muted. She’s just listening to the music right now.”

He exhaled. “Good.”

The more he thought about it, the less he liked it. If Aliyah wanted something harder out of him, it couldn’t be his freestyle. He didn’t trust it. None of his material had any edge, unless it was about his mom. He’d spent years trying to bury that pain. The last thing he wanted was to dig it up.

Aja reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m just thinking.”

“I see that, but there shouldn’t be anything to think about. She wants to hear it.”

“No, I know…”

And she deserves to.

It was obvious what they were really asking. Aliyah knew some of the story already. He didn’t want to share any more, but how could he say no? She’d basically been there for all of it. In some way. She’d pulled him out of more spirals than he could count. And didn’t he owe her for that?

“Okay, I might have something. It’s from last summer, though, so, go easy.”

Aliyah pushed the button to talk in. “Everything alright in there?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, we’re good. I’ve just been seeing a lot stars lately. Think I hit my head.”

“There he goes again,” Aja groaned, “You ain’t still starstruck, are you?”

“I might be,” he said with some attitude, “So what? It’s only been a month. I’ve been a fan for six years. Compared to that, no contest.”

Aliyah took her finger off the button. She leaned back in her seat, fiddling with her necklace again. She didn’t need to talk. The glint in her eyes said it all.

“Boy, you need to stop that.”

The song switched in their headsets. Kelvin shut his eyes to block out everything but the music. The drums played in threes over a rolling bassline. It reminded him of his mom. She used to pound on his door in the same rhythm.

When he was young, and his dad wasn’t around, she came for him. He learned early that if he pushed his dresser in front of his door, she couldn’t get in.

“Go, throw your fit, nothing’s moving an inch. Put your back into it, Bitch, you won’t loosen a hinge. You got more than just a door keeping you from your kid. You’re pushing on his dresser, too, and the two kinda stick. Only ten years old, and I knew every fit. Seeing how you treated Dad, I got used to them quick. Despite the smile on your face, there was proof in your fists. You could always hide your moods, but the bruises would snitch.”

A tear ran down his cheek.

“Bloody noses, scratch marks, screaming matches past dark. Arguments the neighbors heard just standing in their backyard. Swollen knuckles, bad scars. Even I got slapped hard. Doubt my dad believed she’d ever take a fight that far. Broken bottles, glass shards. Stop me at the bad part. Thinking back, I’m thinking that: all of it’s the bad part.”

Between lines, he glanced out the window. Aliyah shifted in her seat as she watched. Her beautiful brown eyes glistened. He’d seen her cry a hundred times, but it was never like that. Something flipped inside.

“Yeah, but while you’re at it, turn around and look what happened. If it wasn’t for the madness, had it not been so dramatic, so erratic, do you really think you would’ve started rapping? Let’s pretend your mom was average, that she wasn’t such a savage. Tell me, why would you have turned to rap to cope with how you had it? Tell me, where would you have found the strength to carry all the baggage? And it wasn’t just the sadness why you rose up, taking action. No, you also had a star to follow, named Aliyah Gavins!”

He pulled away from the mic after that. It felt cheap changing the material, but the old verse hurt too much to finish. He worried what they thought. They asked him to go hard, and he cracked under the pressure.

Aja took off her headset. “Why do I feel like that switched at the end?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I couldn’t keep it going. I’m not really in that headspace anymore.”

Aliyah pushed the button to talk in. “I liked it. Was that last part freestyle?”

“Kinda. I’ve rhymed Gavins a lot so, not entirely.”

As they smiled at each other, the studio door swung open. Natural light poured in, washing out the faint hues of violet. The button clicked off.

In the doorway, Tiffany stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at her client. Her hair tumbled down her back in a mess of undone ponytail. The remnants of a mud mask dotted her neck and forehead.

Kelvin flinched. “Whoa, what’s wrong? Why does she look so mad?”

Aja hung her head. “Cause Li lied. This little surprise for you, Tiff didn’t like it. She thought it’d be too much, so Li sent her to the spa to keep her busy.”

“Too much? What do you mean?”

“I mean, look around. You’re being treated like a boyfriend up in here. And Tiff hates it.”

“That’s not what this is, though.”

“We know. But she doesn’t.”