I stepped into my own studio.
“This is amazing,” I breathed.
“Feel free to fill it up with pictures of hot guys,” she said from the door way.
“I’d never get anything done if I did,” I answered. “Door would have to be locked at all times.”
“Ew!” She laughed. Taking a few steps in, she clapped me on the shoulder. “Congrats, man. Seriously. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need tutoring from the likes of me. Assignments are on the door, and you know how to access the filing system. Go to it, Marcus. Knock their socks off.”
“Only if they use Gold Bond,” I mumbled.
Her head bobbed in approval of my stupid joke. “You up for lunch?”
Sliding my eyes back over to her, I shook my head in the negative. “Not today.”
“Why? Hot date?”
“Yes.”
That made her laugh. “Ashton finally got up the nerve to ask you!”
“He did.”
She headed for the door. “Good. He’s been eyeballing your ass for the past four days.” She looked back at me. “Not that I blame him.” With a wink, she was gone.
I was really, really starting to like that woman.
Turning a small circle, I looked around. This wasmystudio. This was my workspace. Even some of the best sound engineers I knew didn’t get their own space—they had to share and book studio time. I didn’t, not anymore.
This was amazing. It seemed this move was going to be working out better than I thought.
Moooom: Congrats, Marcus!
Marcus: Thank you!
Moooom: Knew you’d do it!
Marcus: Didn’t expect to have my own space in under two weeks.
Christy-Anne: DE-COR-ATE, butthead.
Charlene: Please listen to her.
Daaaad: Did you at least put a sheet on your bedroom window like I said?
Marcus: I live in the Village, it’s a free show. At 7 and 7 every day!
Moooom: Marcus Chastain!
Charlene: I’m sending you curtains and a rod.
Marcus: There are plenty of rods in the Village
Christy-Anne: Whoa!
Charlene: Wow!
Daaaad: TMI, Son!
