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“I know.”

“If she doesn’t fit the song, we don’t force it.”

“Okay.”

“And I want her to hear the full track before anyone starts talking features.”

“Done.”

I nod.

“See you soon, lover boy.”

“You’re a real piece of shit, man.”

He smiles coldly. “I am.”

He disconnects and the screen goes black.

I stare at it for a second.

Then shake my head.

“Fucking asshole.”

I look down at my notebook and at the jotted and mess of verses.

Five fucking songs.

Shit. That woman.

My mind drifts to her.

Toward white-blonde hair piled into a ridiculous bun and a brown face mask.

And the faintest smile she tried to hide when I caught her staring at me.

Fuck she’s gorgeous when she smiles. It’s even more beautiful that she does it when she thinks no one is watching. I’ve seen her smile more than once now and I’m slowly becoming addicted to it.

I want to see her doing it again but for me.

I shake my head.

“Fuck.”

Maybe Zymon is right.

I’m so fucked.

I turn back toward the mixing board and press play on a beat I was playing with all afternoon.

And smile a huge fucking smile because I know just what to add to it.

More of her.

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Mom: How are you today, moonbeam?