Page 46 of Juliet's Echo

Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchel,

Thank you for your recent submission to HUSH Studios.

After reviewing your material, our creative team would like to meet with you to discuss potential collaboration opportunities.

Tentative Meeting Date:April 23rd

Time:3:00 PM

If the proposed date does not work for your schedule, the meeting time may be adjusted.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Best,

Kendall Stevens

Office Manager HUSH Studios

“So, you gonna go, right?” Mega asked, tossing the basketball in the air as we chilled on my indoor court.

Mega was always cool, and since the fight, we had bonded and become friends.

“Nope. That smack to the head got his judgment all fucked up,” Christian answered for me. “Still mad I couldn’t make the show that night, bro.”

“It’s all good, bro. Seriously,” I responded, dapping him up.

For most musicians, getting an email from HUSH Studios would’ve called for a celebration before the deal was even discussed. And if it had come under any other circumstances, it would’ve been that way for me too.

Pediatrics was my area of study at the university, and I planned to excel and eventually move on to medical school. But music was my love. It was the thing that made time disappear, the thing I wouldn’t mind making a living from if life ever pointed me in that direction.

However, I sent that submission two years ago.

So, it was kind of ironic that after I risked social suicide for a girl that ain’t mine, I mysteriously get an email from the office of the greatest music producer of all time.

Oh, and he just so happens to be the brother of said girl that ain’t mine.

Not only did it feel like a handout—and I don’t do handouts—it felt like a cowardly apology. Or maybe a thank you from Juliet.

I mean, yeah, Echo got pull in this whole state, so it was possible he found out who I was on his own and wanted to extend the opportunity himself. But he had already done enough by getting the whole ordeal wiped by the police and covering the damages at Sunday’s.

Which was exactly why none of this sat right with me.

“Nah, I’m not going,” I said, facing Mega. “I don’t do handouts.”

Christian sucked his teeth.

“Huh. Wait, so you never submitted your music to HUSH?” Mega asked.

“Yeah, I did, but that was two years ago. Now all of a sudden, because I knocked Nazir’s ass out for disrespecting Juliet, I get word for a meeting? Like I said, I don’t do handouts.”

Mega gave me a look of uncertainty and brushed his hands through the coils on his head. Some shit men did when we were about to say something that might aggravate the next man.

“Aye, P, look, I know our friendship is new, and I ain’t trying to overstep. But I’ve been around the Everettes since grade school, and if it’s one thing I know about Echo, nobody tells him what to do when it comes to music. So even if Ju pointed him in your direction, it was your talent that made him want to see what you were about.”

“That’s real talk, bro,” Christian agreed. “Even if she got you through the door, your talent has to keep you in the building. Either way, you earned this shit.”

They both had a point, and I agreed. I spent the majority of my time perfecting my music, my parents shelling out top dollar to make sure I studied with the best guitar instructors around, on the condition that my grades never slipped. I was certain my talent could keep me as a collaborator.