Page 20 of Rhythm and Rapture

"Food's here!" Ash launches himself from behind his kit, drumsticks still in hand. "Told you guys we should've ordered Thai instead of trying to survive on energy drinks and delusions of productivity."

"We didn't order food," Felix says, not looking up from his bass.

"Then maybe it's that package Roman's been refreshing his email about every five minutes," Ash calls from the stairs.

"I have not been—" I start, but he's already gone.

Felix smirks. "You literally just checked your phone."

"Shut up."

"Overnight delivery!" Ash's voice carries down the stairs. "From California. S. Jaspe."

My notebook hits the floor. Felix's bass makes a discordant thunk as he sets it down too fast.

"That's her," I say unnecessarily.

"No shit," Felix mutters, already heading for the stairs.

By the time we reach the living room, Ash has the envelope on the coffee table, staring at it like it might contain anthrax. It's thick—not just a letter. Whatever she sent, it's substantial.

"So," Ash drums his fingers on his thighs, a nervous habit that's been driving us crazy for years. “Are we opening this or just admiring the penmanship?"

"Give me that." I snatch the envelope before I can second-guess myself. The weight of it feels significant. Inside, I find a stack of documents, professionally printed on expensive paper. The letterhead reads "Behind the Lens Productions" in elegant script.

"Behind the Lens?" Felix reads over my shoulder. "That sounds..."

"Like a production company," Ash finishes, crowding in on my other side. "What kind of production company?"

I'm scanning the cover letter, and with each line, my eyebrows climb higher. "Um. The adult kind."

"What?" Ash grabs for the papers, but I hold them out of reach.

"Just... hold on." I keep reading, trying to process what I'm seeing. "She works for Behind the Lens. They produce... 'high-quality educational adult content.'"

Felix plucks one of the contracts from the stack with his usual precision. His eyes move methodically across the page. "This is for a calendar shoot. June. National Sex Day."

"National Sex Day is a thing?" Ash asks.

"Apparently." I'm still staring at the letter, trying to reconcile this with the woman who quoted our lyrics back to us. "She wants us to... to be in it. With her."

"Like, in it in it?" Ash has managed to snag another document. "Holy shit, look at these medical requirements. Full STD panel, blood work... this is legit."

Felix has gone quiet, which is never a good sign. He's reading through what looks like the main contract, his expression unreadable.

"There's a personal note," I say, pulling out a handwritten page. Unlike the crisp official documents with their perfect typography, this is clearly personal—her handwriting neat but with slight variations that suggest emotion, nothing like the mechanical signatures on the contracts.

I unfold it carefully, feeling like I'm about to read something private even though it's addressed to us.

Roman, Felix, and Ash,

I know this isn't what you expected when you reached out about a collaboration...

I read the rest aloud, my voice catching on certain phrases:

But to be fair, the unexpected is always to be expected. You can never plan for all the shit the world can and will throw at you. And while I would like to say that cliché 'that's what makes life interesting,' the truth is, it actually makes life scary as fuck.

It's why I like science. I like that despite the hundreds of variables that can affect the outcome of a formula, there is always a path toward reason. A way to trace back through the chaos and find logic, even when everything feels impossible.

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