Page 69 of String Theory


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I hate meetings with advertisers.

?? they trying to sell you stuff?

No. Trying to sell me.

HAH! I wanna make so many sex-worker jokes I don’t know where to start. Also that’s kind of dehumanizing and I feel bad now.

I just had to sit through an hour-long meeting with executives asking questions about my unfinished album so they can make “marketing plans.”

Aww, poor baby! The suits are so mean to make artists think about business. Is all that left-brained thinking hurting you?

The idea that left half of the brain is reasonable and the right creative is a ridiculous myth and I’m ashamed of you for indulging in it.

1. I know it’s a myth. 2. It’s a metaphor.

Not a very good one.

3. I have listened to your music and know it’s not even a good metaphor to describe your process. 4. Stop sulking.

The long text chains created by Jax’s talkative nature couldn’t compare to actual conversation, but since their work schedules were incompatible and the “suits” kept Ari busy until well after dinner, they could never find the time for a phone call.

Ari threw himself into his work as a distraction and to ensure he wouldn’t be asked to stay longer.

“What do you think?” Aiden asked as the music faded on the latest cut of “Alice.” They’d spent the past two hours rehearsing and recording. Aiden was young and eager. He had introduced himself the first morning with a bright smile and, “Thanks. I was so honored when your people called and said you wanted me. Getting pulled for one of your songs is a bit of a coup. I hope I do it justice.”

He was easy to work with—listened attentively to everything Ari said and offered thoughtful suggestions.

“I’m not sure. What do you think of that second bridge?”

“Too fast, right?” Aiden nodded.

“Yes. That second line needs to be—”

“Half a beat slower.” Aiden smiled, stood, and trotted back into the studio.

Ari pulled out his phone and texted Jax.Making progress. I think I’ll actually get out of this city on Sunday as promised.

When Aiden left, it was with Ari’s number and an agreement to talk more collaboration in the future. Ari was pretty sure he’d take the kid up on the offer. He thought Jax might like to meet him if they were ever in Toronto together. Jax would probably appreciate the kid’s style.

On Sunday Ari threw his things in a bag and almost bolted out of the hotel. Once comfortably ensconced in the back seat and on the 401, Ari pulled out his phone and messaged Jax.

On my way. Should be home within 3 hours. Want to do lunch?

I could.

Great. Come to mine? I want you to myself.

Sure.

Ari puzzled at his phone. Perhaps Jax was busy.

At home, Ari eyed the contents of his fridge and sniffed a dubious-looking container. Then he called in an order at his favorite Greek place. He could do with some comfort food after the past week, especially comfort food that came without disappointed parents.

Jax was a beautiful sight for sore eyes, and Ari didn’t curb the impulse to wrap him in his arms and kiss him thoroughly.

“Hi to you too,” Jax gasped when Ari finally pulled away.

Ari blinked. “Did I forget to say hello?” He couldn’t keep his hands from slipping under Jax’s coat, then another layer deeper until he could rub his thumbs up and down the lines of Jax’s iliac crest.