“Whatdo you think it is?” she asked, her arms wrapped around one of mine.
Iran a hand through the hair I should have trimmed, or cut, or shaved the fuckoff to look more presentable. Moreprofessionalin the presence ofwhoever was behind these mirrored walls.
Iswallowed and shook my head. “I don’t know. His office, maybe?”
Withoutanything left to say and desperately in need of some air conditioning, wewalked towards doors that appeared seamless against the building. Only twosleek, chrome handles protruded from the reflective glass and we walked in,stepping over pristine white marble and across to a shiny chrome elevator.
“Dev,”Kylie whispered. There was nobody in the main lobby, but it felt like asanctuary nonetheless. A library, a church. A place where you wouldn’t want tobe caught making a sound.
“Yeah?”I leaned down to her as we watched the lights above the elevator, seeing itcome closer.
“Look.”She pointed, and I followed her finger to a sign.
BrewerRecords – 4thFLOOR
Holyfuck.
Hewas showing me his recording studio. He was showing me the place whererecording artists had laid down some of their greatest hits. He was showing mewhere themagichappened.
Holyfucking fuck.
Onshaky legs, I stepped onto the elevator, grateful that I had Kylie there tokeep me from squealing like a little girl. To keep me at least somewhatgrounded. At least until the elevator doors closed and I found the need tobreathe again.
“Oh,my fucking God,” I uttered, my voice bouncing off the walls of the metal box.My hands were on my thighs as I leaned forward, taking in deep gusts of breath.
“Devin,”she said, her voice tight with excitement. Her hand on my back. “This feels sorealright now. Oh my God.”
Itdid. It felt real, while feeling like a dream. The way you feel when reading agood book and you immerse yourself in that world so thoroughly, you forget wherethe book ends and where your life begins. You are a student at Hogwarts. Youare crawling through the wardrobe into Narnia. You are on your way to Mordor.You are traveling down the yellow-bricked road to Oz. AndIwas on myway tobeinga rock star.
Exceptthis wasn’t a book. This wasn’t a movie. Hell, it wasn’t even a cheesy remakeon cable television.
Itwas my life, and it was very, very real.
?
Iwalked onto the floor, like a kid walking through the doors of FAO Schwarzright before Christmas. Greeted immediately by streamlined furniture, a wall ofgold-plated records and a shiny counter housing a sleek-haired receptionist, itwas everything I had always imagined a top-notch recording studio to be. Modernand cool. Edgy, without trying too hard.
Ifelt underdressed and dirty.
Thereceptionist looked up from her laptop and asked if we needed help.
“I’mmeeting, u-uh … Richard Brewer here,” I said, my normally confident tone losingits edge somewhere in the middle.
“Areyou Devin?” she asked with a red-lipped smile, and I nodded. “Of course. Hestepped out about a half hour ago. He should be back any moment, if you’d liketo just take a seat.”
Wesatdownand I took a moment to critique myself. Thetattered jeans. The sweaty Foo Fighters t-shirt. The scuffed-up boots, dirtyingthe pristine floor with every step. I pushed a hand through my hair, thenscrubbed over my face and Kylie leaned into me, pressing her lips to my ear.
“Relax,”she whispered, as her hand grabbed mine, pulling it from my face. Our fingersinterlocked, and I nodded.
“Trying,baby.”
Sheunderstood. She knew it was everything I had ever wanted—next to her, ofcourse.
“Rememberwhen we bought Black & Brewed?” she asked, squeezing my hand between hers.
Inodded and smiled. “Yeah, I do. You kept imagining every tiny, stupid thingthat could have gone wrong. You were driving me out of my mind.”
“Andnothingwent wrong,” she reminded me gently, and I squeezed back.“Shit’s happening, babe. Just the way it’s supposed to.”
