I swallow again as my heart picks up speed in my chest. This place only hires the best of the best. This is the kind of place I have always wanted to be. This is the dream–
“Up we go,” Noah nods as we near a giant glass elevator in the middle of an open room that appears to be a fully functioning and very busy bar. I watch as people in three pieces and women in sequin dresses drink cocktails and talk business over high top tables.
Noah notices and gives me a smug smile.
“It’s nine in the morning,” I point out.
“It’s Hardin Records,” he adds.
I nod. Yes it is.
And I’m about to meet Mr. Hiram Hardin himself.
We make our way down another hall, though this one is less lit. The walls are black and instead of posters of musicians, there are dozens if not hundreds of framed, signed, records. This is getting wilder by the minute.
“I take it this is your first time in the building,” Noah breaks into my daydream. I don’t even need a cocktail, just being here has me buzzing.
“My interview was via Zoom,” I answer, struggling to keep up because I am mesmerized by, well, everything.
“And who was your interviewer?” he asks as we near the end of the hall.
“I think his name was Mateo?”
“Makes sense,” Noah says, reaching for one of the giant gold doors in front of us. “Hardin cares more about the paperwork than the face. But if you’re here, he approves.”
Pinch me. Say that again and pinch me.
“You good?” he asks, and I realize I am hardly breathing.
“Yes. Yes, I’m good.” I smile and nod as I follow him into what looks like a recording studio. The walls are lined with every instrument imaginable. There’s also a sitting area, a table with possibly the most intense soundboards I’ve ever seen and glass windows displaying the vocal booth.
“It’s just that I can’t believe Hiram Hardin approves of me, that’s all. I haven’t wrapped my head around any of this, you know?”
I take a bold step towards a Martin hanging on the wall and resist the urge to touch it.
“Oh, Hiram Hardin has no clue who you are,” Noah says, and I turn back around to look at him, my smile dipping.
“He doesn’t?”
Noah snorts out a laugh. “Of course not. If it’s not about the profit, he doesn’t open the folder. Hiram doesn’t care whatparts are inside the machine, as long as it’s smooth and keeps pumping out his paychecks.”
“So, who hired me?”
“Is she here yet? After that meeting I need a goddamn drink,” the voice booms from down the hall.
And I stop.
Because I know it.
Because it’s not necessarily a familiar voice but it’s one I have heard recently.
In a different world.
In a different setting.
In a different city.
Noah smiles, widens his eyes then nods his head in my direction.
