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Then I make noodles because I can’t remember the last time I ate.
I’m halfway through the bowl when my phone rings.
Danny.
“You listened?”
“Hello to you too.”
“Danny.”
“Yeah. I listened.”
I tap my fork against the bowl. “And?”
He lets the silence drag because he enjoys being an asshole.
“And…this is the fucking single, Cal. Of Atlas Falling’s next album. I can see it now. This is the comeback. Apex are going to lose their minds over it. We have to play this for them at the meeting. This will help the case so much.”
I fist bump the air silently. “Nice. Yeah, well, I thought it was pretty decent.” I hope he can’t hear my huge grin.
“It’s more than that, Cal. It could be the song of the Summer if we time it right.”
Fuck yeah. That’s what I thought.
“Right. And, Danny—those lyrics aren’t final.”
“They sound final; they work.”
“They’re placeholder. First thing that came out of me. I’m rewriting the verses before anybody else hears it.”
“What’s wrong with the verses?”
“Nothing’s wrong with them.” I put the fork down. “They’re too...obvious.”
“Ah,” he says. “They’re about a woman.”
“Maybe.” I grit my teeth.
“I’m delighted for you. Genuinely. Nothing gets a man writing like—”
“Keep it between us.” I’m standing now, which I didn’t decide to do. “I mean it. Nobody. It doesn’t leave your phone until I’ve done the rewrite and the boys have heard both versions.”
He scoffs. “You send me the best thing you’ve written in a year and then tell me not to use it?”
“I sent it so you’d know I’m writing again. That’s all this is. You wanted proof; that’s your proof.” I wait. “Say it back to me.”
“Between us,” he says, in the voice of a man being asked to do something deeply unreasonable. “Christ. Fine. Between us.”
“Thank you.”
“Get me the real one soon, buddy.”
He hangs up.
I eat the rest of the noodles cold.
* * *
