Page 2 of Sing Your Heart Out

“Of course, man. Want help grabbing your luggage?”

I shake my head, opening the door. Instantly, heat flares up, invading the cool interior of the truck. “Nah. I’ll call you if I can’t stand it here or something.”

He waves his hand at the heat filtering into his truck. “Okay. Sounds good.”

I grab my backpack off the back seat, then slide out. After slamming the door, I grab my suitcase and my guitar case from the bed of the truck. With a brief honk, Cody pulls out and heads down the road.

I’m left looking at the house. The house is basic beige stucco, the windows pristinely white. It’s two enormous stories and obviously brand spanking new; there are even some pieces of film yet to be removed from the upstairs windows.

I try to think of whether I’ve ever lived in any place as new as this house. I don’t think so…

As I stand here, the front door opens. A middle aged couple step outside, big grins plastered across their faces.

“Hello there!” the woman calls.

The man darts out, waving me closer. “Come on inside! No reason to stand out here getting sunstroke. You’re the third one here.”

I pull my suitcase along and adjust my grip on my guitar case. “Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m Dee,” the woman says. She’s dressed in jeans and a neon pink SING YOUR HEART OUT 2020 contest t-shirt. She points to her counterpart. “This is my brother, Dwayne. We are running this contest for Heartstroke Studios, hoping to find a new crop of songwriters!”

“Smith,” I say, shaking her hand. “Sam Smith.”

She hustles us inside the house. I pause to look around, finding myself in the coolly marbled entryway. To the left and right, stairs arch gracefully, though where they lead to remains unknown. Straight ahead I can make out a colossal kitchen.

“You can leave your bags here for the moment,” Dwayne says. “If you’ll just follow me, I can introduce you to the other arrivals.”

After a moment of hesitation, I leave my guitar case and luggage in the foyer. I keep my backpack close though, because it has my notebooks and all of my personal shit inside.

Dee is already heading down the hall, so I nod and follow her, trying not to notice the fact that I’m easily over a foot taller than either her or Dwayne. I’m used to being the biggest guy in the room most places. When I emerge into the huge downstairs room, there’s almost too much to look at.

To my right is a state of the art kitchen, shiny and chrome with baby blue accents. A gray-haired woman in her forties sips from a mug as she examines me coolly; she’s dressed like a biker, leather and heavy boots.

“This is Mellie,” Dwayne crows. “She’s from New Mexico.”

She looks like she’s been baked under the sun for twenty years. I nod my head in greeting and she does the same.

To my left, there is an open concept living room with sleek gray couches and matching chairs. There is a studio room at the far end, the red recording light off for now.

“Here, come meet Marco,” Dee says, waving me toward the patio at the back. She hurries on and swings open the white French doors ahead of me.

Shivering a little as the air conditioning recedes, I shade my gaze against the reflection off the water. Half the backyard is a crystal clear pool, the aqua water and gray cement standing out against the red brick that surrounds the back yard.

“Marco!” Dee yells, cupping her hands around her mouth.

I notice then that a smooth shape ripples near the deep end. A man surfaces, his skin as brown as a chestnut, his hair and eyes like coal. He’s a small person, probably only just over five foot in total. He grins, his teeth so white they are almost blinding.

“You called, Miss Dee?”

His voice is too high pitched to be likable; I’ve only heard him say four words and already I want to tell him to stop.

He swaggers out of the pool, grabbing a towel.

“Marco, this is Sam,” Dee introduces me.

“Uh-uh,” I say, shaking my head. “Call me Smith.”

I offer him my hand. He looks at it for a long moment, then gives me a measured gaze. He takes my hand for a second, then drops it like it’s a hot potato. “Marco. I am planning on being the winning songwriter, so there is really no need to be friendly.”

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