Page 128 of Love U Down II

Drix and I made our way down to the studio and I was shocked to find Alan and three other people in the room.

“Hi?”

“Myome, this is Jersey. She produced a third of Jameer’s last album and a shit ton of different movie scores. She’s known for really haunting production, swelling pianos and haunting saxophones. This is Al, who produced half of Merch and Rome’s album and Bino’s newest number one hit. He’s known for soft beats with perfectly placed drops and split tracks. That over there is Boston who has done some work with Chamari and some other living legends. He focuses heavily on fun, pop instrumentals. And you already know Alan.” He gestured toward me. “Everyone, this is the woman of the hour, Myome.”

“Nice to meet you.” I shook each of their hands, then looked at Drix. “What’s going on?”

“The five of us have produced three beats each for you. You’re going to listen, and if you like anything, we’ll pull it for your album. We all have very different styles and techniques, so hopefully you hear something you like. But if you don’t, we’ll shop around for some other producers.”

“You’re serious?” I looked around the room.

“I’m serious. So go ahead and get in the driver’s seat.” He pulled the chair tucked beside the soundboard out and I took a seat as he addressed the room. “Who’s up first?”

“Me.” Boston stood before anyone else could speak.

“A’ight.” Drix moved out of his way. “Come on then.”

Boston sat beside me and slid his flash drive into the soundboard.

Drix had been right. Each of the producers had different sounds but they were all open to my opinion and making slight changes, so I plucked out any of the instrumentals I liked. By the time we finished, I’d chosen seven of the fifteen: one from Alan, Al, and Boston and two from Drix and Jersey.

Drix thanked everyone for showing up, got invoices sent for the instrumentals I’d chosen, paid them out in real time, and walked them to the door. Once they left, he collapsed on the couch and exhaled.

“Seven is a good start,” he said.

“Yeah. It is.” I made my way over to him and clambered on top of his body. “Thank you, baby.”

“I’ve got you.” He closed his eyes and ran his hand up and down my back. “You want to try writing or call it?”

“I think I’m going to try writing something.”

“A’ight. You want me to stick around or let you have some privacy.”

“I think I’ll write better alone.”

“A’ight.” He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. “Five more minutes though.”

“Yes, please.” I snuggled into him and we lay in silence until Drix’s ringing phone pulled us apart.

He answered his call and left. I got comfortable at the soundboard.

I swapped back and forth between the different instrumentals, writing a bit to each, but despite liking them, nothing seemed to truly flow. I groaned at that realization.

I let my head fall forward and took a few deep breaths before sitting up again.

I gave myself a little pep talk. “Okay, Myome. You can do this. You can write a damn song. You’ve been writing since before you were singing.”

Then I reached into my pocket to grab my phone and did a double take when I saw the flash drive my father had given me.

I stared at it for a moment then popped it in. There were only three files.

I played them all, one after another. When I finished, a smile slowly took over my face.

I restarted the last instrumental, kicked my feet up, pulled up my notes app, and immediately started writing. For the first time in a long time, it flowed.

CHAPTER 29

DRIX