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"Well, you should." This freaking guy.
"What are your favorite hobbies?"
"I’m a part-time music producer. I love making EDM songs in my bedroom."
Medici’s eyebrows tick up. "That’s interesting."
"I started doing it in high school. Every day, I'd race back from class and bury myself in my laptop. I had a makeshift music studio in my closet with cheap gear."
"Wow."
"At some point, I realized I was never going to make it to the big leagues. That depressed me. I wasted so much time developing this talent that’d never go anywhere. And now, with AI, you can typeGive me the MIDI file of a song that sounds like Martin Garrixand you don't even need to do anything."
Medici nods. "That’s the way the world’s going, it seems."
"So, I haven’t produced music in about six months."
Medici frowns. "If it brings you joy, you should do it. Who cares if you don't make money or get famous?"
I shake my head. "No. I have too many demands on my time. School. Work. Paying rent. Buying food. Cooking healthy food. Ensuring I don't miss a bill and wreck my credit."
"Adult problems," Medici growls.
I nod sadly. "Indeed."
Medici pushes out a grunt. "You need a life manager. Someone to handle theboring tasksso you can focus on what brings you joy."
"What I’dreallylove is a publicist," I joke. "They could promote my music so I’d actually stand a chance. The industry is too crowded to break in organically. And—there areghost musicfactories that crank out generic songs that flood the marketplace. It’s tough."
"You have to build a brand, boy. You can’t rely on cranking out generic tracks."
"I know."
Medici rubs my back. "Tell me more. What do you like to cook? Eat? Any clubs you’re in?"
I mull this. "I joined a book club last semester. But they didn’t read my style of books, and they didn’t wish to give them a shot."
"Oh, no."
"Yeah. I recommended a few Daddy kink authors—they laughed in my face."
Medici’s jaw ticks in rage. "Fuck that shit."
I clench my fists. "It was terrible. I was so humiliated—I felt like I didn’t readreal books."
"What kind of books did they read?"
"Classics. Jane Austen. The Brontë sisters. They said that contemporary literature was trash even though at one point, Jane Austen was also considered garbage—and look at her now."
"Well, she’s dead now," Medici drawls.
I glare at him. "You’re missing the point. She’s an icon. She’s taught in literature programs around the world. The people who judged her—her contemporaries—were wrong."
"Sometimes, the works we read must be ratified by time—given time’s stamp of approval—in order for us to enjoy them."
"I don't need to wait for something to be old for me to enjoy it," I hit back. "I can enjoy the books I like right now."
Medici massages my neck. "You showed the book club who was boss."
