Page 133 of Hope & Harmony

“They just don’t get me.” I was already at DEFCON one since he jumped into an immediate aegyo look, which basically meant pouting and looking cute in front of her when minutes ago he looked ready to trash the entire studio.

“Yes.” She patted him on the back softly. “Nobody does.”

I was out when he started to sniffle, then looked over his shoulder and glared at us. She kept rubbing his back and walked him out while I stared at the tossed stool, the empty space that would no longer be filled, and all the higher-ups’ headaches that I would possibly have to take the fall for despite everyone knowing that Jaz was the worst to work with.

I tilted my head, spun my chair around twice, and then faced Gerald while I said, “I think this one might stick.”

The sarcasm was thick with that one.

He tapped a pencil against his chin. “It’s weird when we root for the young ones versus the first gens. Let’s be honest, they do tend to be getting smarter...should we blame TikTok or thank them? I get so confused these days.”

I grabbed his black beanie and jerked it off of his head, then slammed it against his chest. “Pull the song.”

All I got from Gerald was a slow blink from his Bambi- brown eyes. “I’m sorry, did you just say to pull the song?”

“He’s not right for it; the label won’t like it even if he tries his best, let’s toss him what he wants or at least try to convince them to go in a different direction.” I didn’t say that I liked the song too much to let someone who didn’t respect the music sing it. It was my least favorite part of the job, watching someone perform something I wrote only to have absolutely zero respect for the artist—I could at least have respect if they were reallytalented, but if they were imposters with a god complex, it was like handing over my favorite child and hoping they didn’t lose it when they had trouble even remembering where they last left their keys.

Gerald let out a sigh. “At this point, I think the label would be happy just to get some sort of track for his new single rather than him showing up like this. I’ll go back to the list of tracks they liked and choose something he can do in his sleep. The rap in this would have destroyed him anyway, he either speeds up his words or slows them down, there is no in-between.”

I groaned. “Because he’s not a rapper, he’s a singer who wanted to expand and thinks he’s a rapper. I swear if he talks about how hard growing up was one more time, I’m going to smack him back to Brentwood.”

“Private school shits can be so shitty.” Gerald joked. “See, two more shits, we might hit our quota for the day.” He stood. “Hang in there, let’s just give the song to someone else, appease everyone for the time being, I’ll call his manager and figure it out...not a big deal, since technically we were doing them a favor.” He stood and checked his phone. “And there’s the final shit, I’m leaving. Oh wow, best timing ever, have fun!”

I frowned. “Fun? Why? What’s happening? Why are you sweating?”

He grabbed his black jacket and bolted from the studio. The door closed quietly behind him.

No words followed, only a very long pause which had me questioning what would happen next.

Happy Monday?

CHAPTER 2

LYRIC

Once Gerald left, I just shook my head and went back to the song I’d been working on and listened to the rap again, then turned it off and tossed my headphones onto the table. My frustration was strong with that one. It wasn’t just the attitude, it was that it was a really good song, and he wasn’t here for it, and I was sick and tired of working my ass off at weird-ass hours only to have an artist come in drunk.

They weren’t all like that... I wasn’t stupid, I was just tired, maybe? Jaded a lot? Depressed a bit, and my anxiety was constantly through the roof. The labels put so much pressure on us, and while we often worked as a team with the other writers, I craved a moment to shine. To see my song performed at a musical award ceremony, so I told myself it was okay to skip meals, I lied and said it was fine that I got three hours of sleep and smiled when I got yelled at.

Then there were always the amazing team members that would come in with coffee and a hug or those who would sit with me and complain, yay for NDAs, or even the artists who were genuinely incredible human beings who worked their asses off the same way we did.

That was life in any industry, quite frankly. I knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“It wasn’t good,” I said under my breath after listening to the shit rap for the thirtieth time and shutting it off in frustration. “It won’t get better.”

“It might, though?” A deep male voice sounded, followed by the quiet shut of the door, a damning shut.

Why did that voice sound familiar? The smell? Even the way the door softly closed. I was used to the loud walking and perfume or cologne to cover the smell of weed.

This was fresh.

The smell.

The quiet sound.

“Sorry. You have to book the studio time, did you walk into the wrong one?” What was with man buns these days? His jet- black hair was pulled into a messy bun on his head, and I was pretty sure we were wearing the same brand of baggy black cargo pants.

His loose Supreme white shirt was different from my black hoodie, but still...

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