Blair looks up. There’s the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth. It’s faint, but it’s there.
“You should see the way you light up when you talk about him,” she comments. “Have you two been together long?”
“Just over a year.”
“Sometimes,” she tells you, “getting through impossible situations like this is a day-to-day thing. I’d encourage you to lean on the people and things that make you feel stable and remind you of who you are. Not a superstar in a poster on a wall. A person with feelings. Someone that you don’t mind being around. It sounds like Kai and your family are who you can count on to get you there.”
“I don’t have the luxury of being around my inner circle all the time,” you say. “Most days, I’m in meetings, or working on projects. Sometimes with people that get under my skin. What do you recommend in those situations?”
“Deep breathing is an underrated tool,” she replies. “Personally, I’m a fan of mindfulness. If you can center yourself in the present moment without judgment, you can stop a lot of runaway thoughts. It’s a muscle, though. You have to get it stronger, or it won’t work for you. Would you say that you are willing to work hard to get the things you want?”
You frown. “You have no idea,” you say.
Chapter Five
You’re obsessed with Zhavia’s studio. Working with her, one of your two favorite producers, is always like hanging out with a really good friend who, somehow, also elevates your art to stratospheric heights. You can’t see her on the other side of the smoky mirrored glass—and it’s okay, you prefer it that way—but you know she’s watching and listening. Nodding her halo of curls, humming along, tapping the toe of her worn-out Reebok trainer as she makes notes.
Inside the studio, it’s womb-like. The walls are panelled in mahogany, retro and moody, and there are candles lit everywhere. White tapers cast flickering shadows. You’re on the overstuffed couch, cross-legged, a warm red blanket over your lap. You’ve got your hair pulled back, and your eyes closed, with one hand resting on the stem of the recording microphone in front of you. Sensuality and intimacy surround you like tropical air, despite the fact that you are in Greenwich Village in July, and the actual breeze outside is redolent of car exhaust and hot garbage. Here, there’s the skin-prickling current ofcreativity, alive and rushing.
“All right, Ster.” Zhavia’s voice is low on the other end of the speaker. It barely stirs the trance you are in. “Let me get that pre-chorus again. Try it the way we talked about, with the moany-groany at the end.”
With a deep breath, you lean in.
Touch me like I want, take it slow
What’s between us, only God knows
You and the phone line, it’s chemistry
Got me hot on the thought of you over me
The way you miss me, kiss me, make this body rock
I’ll be breathing your name, touching my mm-m-m
In the split second before Zhavia speaks, you know it was a perfect take.
“Yes-s-s!” she coos. “Damn, baby. Pretty sure I got pregnant just listening to that. Love it.”
You can feel yourself blushing, just a little bit. “Zhay,” you protest.
“I know you haven’t decided on a title yet for SG10, but I think you should get to the point:Music to Fuck To.”
That makes you snort, breaking the spell. “Can you imagine? The Family Research Council would have my head on a spike.”
“Screw the FRC,” she says dismissively. “Last time I checked, you’re grown. It doesn’t matter what you call it. People are gonna be making babies to this track. Being all loved up agrees with you creatively.”
“That’s a lot of talk about getting knocked up,” you say dryly, trying to hold back a smile. “You trying to tell me something, Zhavia?”
“I don’t know. Are you, like, ovulating?” she shoots back. “I’m not the one wailing into the mic like I’m in heat. You wanted to demo that sad draft next. The untitled one. Go dump anice bucket on your head or something. We need to change the energy up. Wanna take 20? Does that sound realistic?”
You laugh. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
It feels good to pull the over-ear headphones off. You stretch big on the couch, and scratch idly at your side. Your phone is face-down on a side table, powered off. There’s no need for you to have it on during recording sessions; there’s always someone who can get in touch with you if the situation is urgent enough.
As soon as your home screen loads, several message notifications ding and pop up.
Maeve:Have you eaten today? We both know how you get when you’re in the studio. Take a few minutes and eat something with protein. I can order Uber Eats for you.
