Pump up the Volume
A writer for a sleep app gets hot and bothered by her sexy new voice-over artist, in this story by Suzanne Park, author of THE CHRISTMAS CLASH.
Georgia says:
Anyone else a troubled sleeper? As a lifetime member of the melatonin fan club, I’m usually tossing and turning well into the witching hour. The couple at the center of this week’s love story know a thing or two about keeping folks up past their bedtime. Hayley’s stories for BrainSpace, a bedtime-tales-for-adults sleep app, get an unexpectedly sexy twist when she starts working with the equally sexy new voice-over artist, Clark Kang. The deliciously funny double entrendres that Clark’s performance accidentally creates are worth staying up for.
This very funny short story is brought to you by rom-com author Suzanne Park, author of the brand-new holiday rom-com, THE CHRISTMAS CLASH, out this week. Dim the lights and get ready for after-hours fun.
“Pump Up The Volume”
“Your stories aren’t good enough, Hayley.” My boss Thom, with a silent H, glared at me from across his desk. “Your head isn’t in the game.”
Normally, I’d refute my boss’ productivity allegations. After all, I was one of the most prolific writers on our team in terms of sheer quantity of output. But he was right.
“I know, Thom.” I clicked and unclicked my pen, a bad habit I picked up in journalism school workshop seminars. I glanced at the clock, wishing that he’d end the meeting, now that he’d shared his disappointment of another one of my assignments. “I’ve been a bit distracted.”
He scowled and held up both palms, like he was checking to see if it was raining. “By what?”
Truthfully, all of my creative energy the last few months had been put into writing essay and article proposals and submitting them to lifestyle magazines, and not into the bedtime tales for adults for our company’s sleep story app. How could my head be in the game when so many rejections were landing in my inbox, informing me that my romantic stories and self-discovery ideas were not a good fit? It was hard to look my boss in the eye instead of at my phone screen.
Thom continued. “You haven’t been in the top five all year.”
I swallowed hard. He was right again. The top five downloaded stories each week were featured in the BrainSpace employee newsletter “high fives” section, with kudos from our Chairman. The authors of those stories each received a twenty-five dollar gift card from Panera. At first I laughed at how ridiculous this seemed, holding one’s self worth up to a free Panera sandwich, salad, plus drink. But now, after receiving my final wave of submission rejections from Vox, Marie Claire and Cosmo, I not only had zero professional writing credits to my name, but I also hadn’t even earned any Panera prestige.
I managed to speak up. “I’m working on something now that should be top five worthy.”
Thom wiped his sweaty brow with a Kleenex and used the same wet tissue to wipe his keyboard. Gross. “I don’t want to seem all negative here, because your stories actually do quite well on certain metrics. The good news is that customers say they fall asleep to your stories easily and you’re rated high on snoozeability.”
You didn’t have to go to Northwestern’s Medill School of Journalism to know that snoozeability wasn’t even a word. But that aside, didn’t that mean my stories were doing the job they were intended to do: put people to sleep?
“Well, I’ll take that as a quasi-win.” I bit my lip.
Thom shrugged. “Snoozeability can be good, but your stories have no pizzazz.”
“Pizzazz?” I asked, picturing my fifty-something bald boss doing jazz hands.
He clicked his mouse a few times and swiveled his monitor so I could see. “Unfortunately, you also have a lot of reviews saying your stories are too complex, you include obscure history, and you use big SAT words. Apparently people have to consult a dictionary or Wikipedia, which isn’t exactly ideal for a sleep routine.” He cleared his throat. “Can you work on that please? You’re here to write sleep content, not win the Pulitzer.” He turned the monitor back around. “Think less academic, more pizzazz.”
I sighed, unsure of what exactly I needed to be writing now. “Should I email you my new story idea then, to make sure it’s...pizzazzy?” To my horror, I made jazz hands.
“I like this enthusiasm from you, Hayley, and yes, please.”
“Okay.” I stood from my chair.
Thom added, “One more thing. I think you should change narrators. I have a new voice-over artist for you to work with. He just submitted this morning. He’s a natural.”
“What?” I jerked at attention. “Why? No—everything’s going great with Jackie.” She was assigned to me when I first started and, as an ancient history nut, Jackie loved my obscure references. She was a quick study, and practiced at home so we only had to do one take in the recording booth.
“She’s good. But Clark Kang is top five material. Listen.” My boss clicked his computer mouse.
A smooth-as-silk baritone filled the air. “This is Clark Kang reading an excerpt from Call of the Wild. Deep in the forest, a call was sounding. As often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire and the beaten earth around it...”
Clark’s warm, soothing voice was like a higher-pitched, old-school Barry White. I closed my eyes as Thom played the short sample audio file a second time.
I had to admit he was good, and potentially a good fit for my next nature-themed story. But training someone new was creating even more work. “Jackie knows the ropes. This Clark guy is new to me and—”
Thom clicked his mouse a few times. “I just booked him for an in-studio recording session tomorrow. Send me the script as soon as you can.” He lifted his chin and looked at the door. His way of saying, We’re done here. Now scram.
Fine. I’ll show Thom that Clark is too new to this and isn’t going to work out. I sighed and closed the door behind me with a thud.
♥
While I waited for the assigned producer and Clark Kang to show up to the sound booth, I tried on the various noise-cancelling headphones on the counter. All of them made me look ridiculous, like adult-sized earmuffs on a small child. I settled on the last pair, ones that looked more “air traffic controller” than “senior writer.”
As I removed the head gear, the phone rang in the room. After the third call in a row, I answered. “It’s Molly at reception. Clark Kang is here but the production team is at an offsite team-building event and aren’t coming in today. I can bring him in.”
Great, now I was stuck with Clark for the entire hour by myself.
The thick, soundproof door opened on the other side of the glass divider. The receptionist entered the room, holding a bottle of Evian. Behind her was, presumably, Clark Kang.
Tall, athletic, and classically handsome Clark Kang. Wearing black frames, visually cueing the similarity of this Clark and the iconic Clark Kent.
I gulped, which was amplified 10x thanks to my noise-cancelling headphones. This was ASMR at its worst.
This wasn’t my first production rodeo. I flipped some switches and the audio from the other room came through. “Hi, I’m Hayley,” I croaked out.
“Sorry I’m a little late.” Clark spoke in his velvety-deep voice, making hypnotic eye contact. “I’m Clark.”
He hung his black jacket on the back of his leather chair, sat down, and put on his headphones. After adjusting his mic higher, he rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing his well-developed forearms. Looking down at the script and placing his elbows on the table, Clark said, “Testing, testing. How do I sound?” He lifted his gaze and looked directly at me. “Let me know if this works for you.”
I gulped. “All good on my end. Did you get the script for A Rainy Day Hike? I uploaded it last night.”
He offered two thumbs up. “I did. Ready when you are.”
“Ready.”
Clark smiled at me and began reading my story about a hiker discovering a waterfall during a rain shower. The prose and rhythm were designed to be deliberately mundane, and he read it in a steady monotone, like how you’d imagine a primitive robot would speak in the 1980s.
I asked over the mic, “It’s a very soothing read so far, but can we have more...” Don’t say pizzazz. “More variation in tone?”
Clark nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, I’ve never actually done any sleep story V.O. work before. I was trying my best to put people to sleep.”
I clicked my mic. “Let’s do it again, less boring teacher reading a passage from a geography textbook and more...pizzazz.” DAMN IT. My face flushed as soon as that last word came out.
Clark read the scene twice, but it still came across as flat and uninspired. We’d been recording for half an hour. I didn’t have any other ways to offer directorial guidance, so I tried one last thing. “Can you just read it in your normal speaking voice, please? Like you’re just talking casually to me?”
I hit the record button.
With Clark’s deep tone, I expected it to be a calming and relaxing read, but that’s not at all how it played out.
“...the rain streamed down his face, neck and chest, soaking his entire body. His shirt, once loose and airy, clung to his skin. He removed his backpack from his taut shoulders, rolling them back, stretching his muscles. The climb ahead would be steep, wet and hard, but the climax was in his sights.”
I coughed, forcing the recording session to halt. Clark used the opportunity to take a sip of water from his bottle. Was that a smirk on his lips?
I clicked the intercom button. “You’re doing great, Clark. Let’s continue just like that, but maybe a slower reading speed this time.” Heat rippled throughout my body as I replayed those words in my head. Taut. Wet. Hard. Climax. I chugged water to cool me down.
Clark leaned into his mic, going on to the next scene. “The showers continued, making the trek slippery. He had never experienced this climb with such soaking wet conditions. By the time he reached the next stopping point, he was panting hard. Harder than ever before. There was no turning back. He would do everything it took to reach the end, even if it meant pushing himself to his limits.”
I fanned myself with the script. Holy shit, this was too much.
I pushed the button. “Could you read that whole thing again, maybe make it less...um...?” I didn’t want to say it, but I had to. I racked my brain for words to articulate my concern. “Less sultry?”
Clark looked at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You think it’s sultry?” he crooned.
I nodded. Also sexy, seductive, sensual...good lord.
He read it once more, adding more firmness in his tone, but this turned out to be worse. He sounded more Alpha.
Once he’d read through one more time, I tore off my headphones. “We’re out of time, I think we have what we need.” I ignored the heat flaring down my neck and called the floor’s receptionist to escort Clark out.
Clark offered me an easygoing smile. “Really looking forward to hearing the final version. Thanks for giving me a chance to show you what I can do.”
I waved goodbye to Clark and left in a hurry.
Outside the booth, I leaned on the hallway wall. The back of my shirt was drenched, just like the hiker’s clothing in the story. God damn it, Clark Kang left me a sweaty, hot mess.
♥
Thom’s bald head popped into my cubicle. “Congratulations. You’ve made it to the top five downloads this week!”
The company newsletter had just hit our inboxes and my name was in it! Email congratulations poured in from all over BrainSpace.
Thom went on, “Can we have a word in private?”
I followed him into his office and he surprised me by shutting the door. With a tight-lipped frown, Thom gestured for me to sit down.
This was not a private praise moment. Did someone die? Was he dying? Was he leaving the company?
“Did you run out of Panera gift cards?” I joked, hoping to lift the mood.
He opened his top drawer and slid a Panera gift card across the desk. “This is yours.”
“Thanks.” My voice wavered as I stuffed it into my pocket. “So I guess you want to talk about something else?”
He nodded. “It’s about A Rainy Day Hike. As you know, it broke into the top five over the weekend, which is rare to have such a fast climb for a brand-new story. But here’s the thing: your reviews are all over the place.”
I winced. “Are they bad?”
He shook his head. “They’re not bad, per se. A lot of people are finding this particular story...too...sexy.” His cheeks flushed. “Sensual, in fact. And we’re just not that kind of company. I wanted pizzazz. Not va-va-voom.”
I leaned forward. “Are you removing it from the catalog?”
“Not sure yet. This story has a ton of traction, and it’s the top new release, but I have concerns. Honestly, I’m torn. I’ve never seen such a mixed response like this. The head of our department and I want to play it safe and have you to go back to the sound booth and re-record it. Or re-write it and record new audio. I’d like you to have this take top priority and have it done today or tomorrow.”
“What? That’s too soon!” I nearly choked on my words. “And I don’t know if Clark’s even available to record.”
“If he’s not, find someone else. When you’re done, send the file to me first. I want to approve it before it’s uploaded.”
“Sure, you’ll be the first to review it,” I sighed. I stood from my chair, exited his office, and headed straight for Panera for lunch. I made it into the top five, which was my goal. No way were they taking this joy away from me. I earned it.
♥
Clark sat inches away from me on the other side of the sound booth.
“The large, wet stones were slick and slippery even though the rain had stopped,” Clark murmured.
I clicked the intercom button. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Could you re-read that, but maybe with more brightness in your delivery?”
“I can do that. Are there words I should emphasize? Or de-emphasize?” His slight smirk suggested he had an inkling of what the problem might be.
“Um, good question. Let’s not bring attention to the words large, wet, slick, and slippery.” My voice cracked with each emphasized word.
He peered through his lashes. “Sure, Hayley. I’ll do anything you want.”
I glanced at the room’s thermostat. It read seventy degrees, but it had to be broken. I wriggled out of my cardigan and tugged my shirt to let air in.
Clark locked eyes with mine. “Mind if I do the same?” Before I could answer, he peeled off his denim jacket, revealing a navy, tightly fitted tee with the word PLUVIOPHILE across his broad chest. My nerdy heart soared because I knew this word. A lover of rainy days.
“Nice shirt.” I was tempted to ask if he’d worn it for me, but I refrained.
He grinned. “Glad you like it.” Tapping his mic, Clark crooned, “I’m ready whenever you are, Hayley. Eager to get this right.”
I replied, “That’s good to hear.”
His dark, mischievous eyes crinkled in the corners. “But first, could you turn the temp down in here? I’m really overheated right now.”
I swiveled my chair to face the thermostat. That makes two of us.
♥
Thom exhaled through his nose as he tore off his headphones. “We can’t upload this. It’s worse than the first one.”
My jaw dropped. “Worse? How’s that possible? We were in the session for three straight hours!” We didn’t even chat or joke around in the booth, there was too much at stake with this re-record. But I’d be lying to myself if I said it was straight business: while he recorded, I had nowhere to look but at the script, and at Clark’s strong arms. Broad shoulders. Handsome face. For one hundred and eighty whole minutes. And believe me, I studied every inch that I could see.
My boss fell back into his black leather chair. “I don’t get it. He came highly recommended, and we’ve never had a problem with that talent agency.”
I shrugged. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure how to fix this. You’re the one who told me to use him.”
He grunted. “It’s not suitable for sleep, period. I don’t know anyone who could sleep to this.”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I said, “It’s 6:00 p.m. Do you want me to record it again? Tonight?” I’d nearly reached my limit. “If it’s numbers you’re worried about, I looked at the stats for A Rainy Day Hike this afternoon. It surpassed all other content at this company in nearly every key metric. Number of downloads, duration, replays. Yes, many of the reviews said it was sexy, sultry, hot, steamy, but why can’t there be a place for those kinds of stories in our portfolio? Maybe there’s something about self-care and relaxation stories I could pursue as a part of the business scope. The numbers suggest this is something the market might want.”
He shook his head. “As I said before, we’re not that kind of company. Go home tonight and think about whether you can salvage this sleep story or we need to chuck it and start over. If needed, we can book new talent to come in tomorrow, which as you know would be added cost to this project. If you think of yourself as a cost-center, you’re one of our most expensive assets right now. That’s not a good thing.”
Dejected and exhausted, I left his office, grabbed my messenger bag from my desk, and marched out the exit.
To my surprise, Clark was waiting on the other side of the automatic doors. “I hope this isn’t weird,” he said. “I wanted to see if you could grab dinner or something. Our session went way long and I feel bad about that. It’s on me.”
How could I say no to a free dinner from Clark Kang? “There’s a Thai place on the corner with the best noodles in the city. Would that work?”
He grinned. “I’d love that.”
♥
We sat down at a window booth and opened our laminated menus. The server came over with two waters and took our order. I chose the spicy drunken noodles, and Clark went for a tom yum noodle soup and a side of eggrolls. Before handing back the menu, he asked, “Could I have a beer too, please?”
He glanced at me. “Wine? Beer? Anything for you?”
“Sure, I’ll have a white wine. I need something to take the edge off.”
With his full attention on me, Clark asked, “So does the story go live tomorrow? I thought it was great.” His dark eyes caught the overhead light, making them shimmer. “Do you think you could send me the final audio file so I can add it to my portfolio?”
My stomach dropped. How could I tell him my boss hated it? But I also couldn’t lie. “I can try to get the file before they delete it. I don’t know how to tell you this.” I grabbed my napkin on my lap and twisted it. “My boss said I need to re-record it. And possibly even trash the story altogether. Apparently I write shitty sleep stories.”
There. I said it. My stories were trash. And now Clark knew it.
His brows furrowed. “What are you talking about? I’ve narrated hundreds of projects, and yours was the best thing I’ve ever read. There was so much imagery! Your nature descriptions were perfect. The sentences had rhythm and flow that was true artistry. Was it me? Am I trash?”
Oh no, I didn’t mean for him to take any blame for this. Lifting my right hand off the napkin in my lap, I placed it on his hand without thinking. “This is NOT about you. You were great. It’s just that—”
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. How could I explain that my boss thought he sounded too sexy?
“I love your voice,” I went on. “But my boss thought it sounded too...um...” Struggling to find the right word, I opted to land on an imprecise one. “Stimulating.”
The server came over with our wine and beer, and I released his hand so we could clink glasses.
“Stimulating?” He cocked an eyebrow as he took a swig. “I guess that’s better than delivering the lines flat.”
“Oh no, you definitely didn’t do that!” Heat pricked my neck as our dishes arrived at the table. “As I said before, I love your voice, it might not be the right fit for what BrainSpace is trying to do though. And apparently what I write doesn’t lend itself to sleep either. I’m basically on teetering on the edge of being fired, even though the metrics of my portfolio would suggest otherwise.”
“I still don’t understand,” he said, hanging to my every word. “Why would they let you go, especially if your numbers are strong?”
On my phone, I logged into my work server and showed him the stats on our story. “Basically, this tells me that there are a lot of people who want this type of content.” I blushed while sharing the reviewer comments with him, too. Sultry. Sexy. Hot. Erotic. And my favorite, hubba hubba hottttttt.
A mischievous grin spread across his face. “I used to hate my voice—it was so deep that people couldn’t hear me, especially in noisy clubs and bars. I guess the people on your app don’t hate it.”
“Hate it? How is that possible?” I downed the remaining drops of wine. “You could read my credit card statement and I’d listen to that on repeat.”
Blushing, I looked down at my empty wine glass. I’d said too much. So I changed the subject. “I offered to explore self-care and relaxation stories as a way to expand the business, but my boss shot it down. He didn’t even entertain the idea. It was brutal.”
Clark asked, “So what’s stopping you from doing it? You’re so smart and talented.”
I perked up. “Honestly, my company is so behind the times, I’d be better off releasing my own app. I have journalism friends who freelance and a strong voice talent connection.” I raised my eyebrows suggestively and looked into his eyes.
“I’m flattered.” He reached over the table and lightly brushed my hand. “I have a recording studio at home. You can see my set-up if you want. It’s close by.”
This invitation made my entire day turn around. “Yes, but let’s have another round of drinks first. I’m buying.”
He grinned. “You’re also fun...and clever. I forgot to add that to the list of reasons why you fascinate me.”
“Smart. Talented. Fun. Clever. I won’t ask for more adjectives, it’ll look like I’m desperately fishing for compliments,” I joked.
“I have lots more attributes to describe you. I’ll save those for another time. Maybe even later tonight.” He smirked into his drink. “Up to you, though.”
It was up to me. And there’s only one thing I had on my mind. “Let’s go check out your equipment.” My cheeks flushed as soon as the words came out.
He didn’t even bat an eye. “I can’t wait,” he said as he helped me with my coat.
We exited onto the bustling sidewalk and he pointed to the right. “Ten blocks that direction. There’s a nice wine bar on the way.”
I linked my arm with his. “Lead the way.”
♥
“No, this isn’t even an option,” Thom said, shaking his head after I shared my ideas to expand BrainSpace’s offerings, starting with Nighttime Naughty Novellas, rated R and up. My boss wasn’t just uninterested: he was appalled I’d suggest such a thing.
“You say this company is metrics-focused, and my rainy hike story broke the record for downloads and replays. There’s a market for stories like this one,” I said. “They may not be sleep stories, but they count as relaxation and self-care.”
“Our core business is sleep. I don’t know why you keep trying to change what we do here. There are people at this company whose job it is to expand into new markets and these experts are not asking to move in this direction. We’re not in the business of sexy time stories. You need to stay in your lane, Hayley.”
Staying in my lane was one thing, but not taking advantage of this market opportunity was a big mistake.
Thom’s email notifications dinged loudly. The color of his face drained to white as he read his urgent message.
He summarized, “It’s the CEO, Rob. He said his wife listened to your original story and wanted to know if it would be turned into a series.” Clearing his throat, he added, “She wants to know what other content you have planned. Rob’s never emailed me directly before.” Thom looked at me, brows furrowed. “You didn’t rerecord it like I asked?”
My shoulders lifted and fell. “I’m afraid not.” I was planning to fight for it to stay in the catalog. Luckily Rob had my back and I didn’t have to defend the integrity of the story.
My boss fell back into his chair. “I’ll set up a content meeting so we can discuss your next few months of deliverables.” Thom shook his head. “Maybe I’ve been wrong about all of this. I should listen to my own advice and follow the numbers.”
I nodded. “One last thing. As I take on business growth initiatives, I expect compensation and a promotion, we can discuss this in our next chat.”
Thom pursed his lips together. “Yes, and I owe you an apology.” He opened his desk drawer. “Plus this.”
A coveted gold Panera gift card. Worth $100.
I stifled a laugh. “Thanks. I’ll send you an email with my story ideas by end of day for you to send to Rob.” I put the golden reward in my pocket and closed the door behind me.
♥
At the end of the work day I took an elevator to the ground floor, and spotted Clark waiting for me by the revolving door. He’d texted about happy hour and I promised him a work update over drinks.
“What did your boss say about Nighttime Naughty Novellas?”
I gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. “It went well. Things really turned around mid-meeting.” After sharing the email from Rob about his wife, I chirped. “Let’s go celebrate. Any ideas for where to go?”
He pulled me into his chest. “You choose.”
I murmured, “Not Panera.”
Clark laughed. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”
Tilting my head up, I pulled his coat lapels and gave him a long, deep kiss. “Drinks and then dinner? And then we’ll see?”
In a deep, sultry baritone, he whispered into my ear, “Yes. Drinks. Dinner. And then we’ll see.”
Next week on Heartbeat, we're doing something a little different — watch your inbox.
Follow Heartbeat on Instagram at @storiesbyheartbeat for upcoming behind-the-scenes sneak peeks!
Three quick things from Georgia:
I’m loving Tell Me Lies, the TV series adaptation of my friend Carola Lovering’s acclaimed novel of the same name. A smart, searing, and oh-so-sexy portrait of toxic love.
Fascinating article in this week’s New Yorker about selfhood and what makes you, you. “Are You The Same Person You Used to Be?” by Joshua Rothman teases out big questions about how we change (or don’t) over a lifetime.
Today’s the last day to apply for the Generation Women Writers’ Retreat, hosted by yours truly. Join ten other writers for a luxurious long weekend in the Hudson Valley, 1/6/23 - 1/9/23. No fee to apply! Hop to it!
What did you think of this week’s story? Let us know in the comments below!
Loved this!