New Cross Nights
"Jazz singer Maxine performs late nights in New Cross, but when music producer Leon discovers her voice, he finds her body and soul even more harmonious than her songs."
The bar was nearly empty. Maxine sang anyway, thick and radiant under a single spotlight, voice like smoke and honey.
Leon forgot to breathe.
"Yuh sounded incredible," he said after.
"And yuh looked like yuh were somewhere else."
"I was. Your voice took me there."
"Then come back tomorrow. Mi take yuh further."
Tomorrow became every night. He recorded her on his phone. Dreamed of her in professional quality.
"Let mi produce yuh," he offered.
"Produce mi how?"
"Your music. Your career. Everything."
"Everything?" Her eyes sparkled. "That's a big word."
"I mean it."
Studio sessions. Late nights. Creative tension becoming actual tension.
"That take," he said. "Do it again."
"Yuh too demanding."
"I know what yuh capable of."
"Yuh don't know what I'm capable of." She moved closer. "Not yet."
She showed him in the vocal booth. That thick body making music without a microphone.
"Yes! Leon! Right there!"
Every note perfect. Every touch in time. Harmony in ways no score could capture.
"Don't stop! Make mi sing!"
Her album charted. His production credits grew. Their partnership, in all senses, flourished.
"Yuh my best work," he said at the album release.
"Yuh my best sound." She kissed him. "Together, we perfect."
New Cross nights still feature Maxine's voice.
Leon in the sound booth. Always watching. Always in love.
Music and passion.
Forever on repeat.
The song that never ends.