Yeah. Sandwich. It wasn’t great.
Rick stared at that for a second, then replied.Get something decent tonight.
Allen’s answer came back a minute later.Bossy.
Rick’s fingers paused over the keyboard, then he typed,You liked it.
There was a longer gap this time. Rick watched the screen, waiting.Maybe.
Rick’s breath caught. He kept his reply simple.Good.
Another pause, then Allen’s response came through.You okay today?
Rick stared at the question. There was no way he could tell Allen the truth.Yeah. Just tired. Writing’s been a headache.
Allen replied.Want to come over later?
Rick stared at the question. He wanted to go over. He wanted to go back because Allen didn’t flinch when Rick took control. Allen looked at him like he wanted Rick to take control, and that did something to Rick. He liked it.
Rick typed.Not tonight. Friday?
Allen’s reply came quick.Yeah. Friday works.
Rick stared at the words for a moment, then locked his phone and put it down beside him. He lay back and closed his eyes, seeing Allen’s face. Allen made him feel like he could do anything and still be wanted, and Rick didn’t want to lose that.
Rick didn’t plan to watch anything that day. He’d opened his laptop and left the document open with a blank page and a blinking cursor. He’d stared at it long enough that his eyes started to water, then he shut the lid and walked into the kitchen for coffee.
He kept ending up back at his phone. At the news feeds and entertainment sites. He scrolled without reading until a clip loaded and a familiar face appeared in the corner of the screen.
Rick stopped at a short video posted on a music site. A studio setup with a host talking to the camera. A split screen showing footage of a mixing desk and a live room with a drummer behind glass.
And there he was. Elliot Hart.
Rick stared at the man on the screen. Elliot looked older, with gray at the temples, a neat beard, and a clean T-shirt under an open shirt. He was smiling as the host spoke, relaxed as if he belonged there. Rick pressed the volume up and began to listen.
“…and today we’re talking about how a track goes from a rough idea to something you can stream,” the host said, grinning. “We’ve got Elliot Hart with us. Producer, engineer, and the guy behind a lot of records you’ve definitely heard.”
Elliot laughed in an easy way that Rick hated immediately. “That’s generous.”
The host turned slightly toward him. “You’ve worked with everyone. Pop, rock, R&B. Big names. New names. The whole spectrum.”
Elliot’s smile didn’t change. “If someone’s willing to work, I’m interested. That’s the main thing.”
Rick sat at the kitchen counter with his coffee cooling in front of him, phone in his hand. He continued to watch the interview, his eyes focused on the screen. The clip cut to a different angle, and now a studio was behind them. People were moving around in the background, with someone carrying cables and someone else laughing as they walked out of frame. It looked like a real place with real work happening.
Rick swallowed. His throat felt tight, and he didn’t know why, because none of this had anything to do with him. Except it did.
Elliot had been the first producer who’d ever spoken to him like he wasn’t a product to sell to make money. Elliot had been there before the song hit, when Rick was still doing small rooms and thinking he might have a career if he got lucky. Elliot had been the one who’d told him to stop trying to sound like someone else and to be who he was.
“Sing like you,” Elliot had said, and Rick had believed him.
He watched Elliot now as the host asked about starting a song. “Do you begin with the vocal?” the host asked. “A beat? A melody?”
Elliot shrugged. “Depends on the artist. Some people walk in with a full demo. Some people hum a hook into their phone and swear they’ll remember the rest later. Usually, they don’t.”
The host laughed, and Elliot smiled again. Rick clenched his jaw. He didn’t like hearing Elliot talk about artists like they were a constant stream of people through a door. Like it hadn’t mattered who they were, because Rick had mattered. Well, he had back then.
The host nodded, still grinning. “Okay, so say you’re working with a new artist. What’s the first thing you do?”
