“Oh, I’m sure someone at your level in the industry has all of this stuff in a home studio.”
“I don’t actually,” I admitted. “I’m just here visiting. Didn’t bring all of my equipment,” I lied.
While I had instruments, I’d never invested in a full-on production set. I’d always written, and when it came time to make the arrangements, I relied on outside producers. Never had I done production on my own.
“Well, that baby runs only about four hundred bucks.”
I reached out again for the keys, gliding my fingertips over them. My throat felt tight, and mentally I told myself to walk away. To stick to my strengths. But then Gabe’s advice totry something newappeared in my head.
“I’ll take it.”
The wrinkles around Bradley’s eyes deepened when his smile spread over his face. “You won’t regret it,” he assured.
“It probably won’t make a difference.” I shrugged.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Twenty minutes after entering Bradley’s Musical Mayhem, I walked out with a brand new production set.
It was an impetuous purchase more than anything. I didn’t have any new songs that needed arranging, so it was silly to try to produce anything.
Yet, I carefully placed the set in the passenger seat of my car anyway. Fear gripped me the entire drive back to the house.
* * *
“Ouch, shit,”I yelped when the microphone stand fell over, hitting me in the head.
I sat on the floor in the bedroom vacated by Rayven. I figured the room would be perfect to set up the equipment that I’d bought earlier. Unfortunately, that plan required that I move the bed to the far side of the room to set up a desk and chair, the microphone stand, my laptop, and the rest of the equipment I bought.
When I realized that I could use an extra desk, I purchased a new one along with a chair from a local furniture store.
Those wouldn’t arrive for a few days, so I sat on the floor, doing what I could. There were wires and cables around me, going from my laptop to the keyboard, the production box, and the speakers. All of which got caught under the microphone stand … hence, why it’d just fallen.
I had to read the directions three times on how to set everything up, and I still wasn’t sure I’d done it correctly. I felt out of my depth and like a fool for even thinking I should venture down this pathway.
“Wasted four hundred dollars,” I murmured, looking around at the empty boxes, equipment, and wires strewn all about.
My phone rang for the third time since I’d been home, and again, it was a number I didn’t know. My heart sank, and I thought about sending it to voicemail, but I went against my better judgment.
“Hello?”
“Lena, where the hell have you been?” my mother demanded as soon as she heard my voice.
I cringed, and a twinge of guilt moved through my chest.
“Hey, Ma. How are you?”
“Girl, don’t hey ma me. I asked you a question.”
My eyes circled the room. “I’ve been working,” I said before clearing my throat.
“Working? Where? We haven’t seen you doing any performances.”
More guilt surged.
“Is that Lena?” my father’s voice asked in the background.
