Page 50 of Juliet's Echo

“Yes. Studied with the best.”

“You ever produced full records?” Optimus followed up.

“A few. All guitar work. No vocals.”

“Can you follow directions?” Echo jumped right back in.

“As long as the direction makes sense,” I responded, a little cockier than I intended.

“Oh yeah, I like him,” Optimus laughed. “And he got hands. With them round glasses over there looking like everyday he be walking down the street.”

“Oh, Arthur Read-looking ass nigga,” Echo joked.

“Aye man, chill,” I laughed.

Even though they were joking on me, I fucked with their energy.

“Aight, old man Echo, remember Arthur be balling up his fist. I come in here one day and Psalm done laid your ass out.”

“Yeah aight, nigga. You gonna need more than Rock 'n Roll Arthur and his glasses to knock me out.” Echo pointed at me. “I’m fucking with the look though. Everybody normally wears what’s popular. I can tell you wear what’s you. Never change that perspective.”

Forty minutes of music, business, and jokes later, a three-track deal totaling six figures sat in front of me.

This was life-changing.

Not the amount itself. My family was well off.

But the fact that I was making this money on my own.

That two of the greatest to ever touch the music scene fucked with my sound and style.

That part meant everything.

“Take this and have your lawyer look it over. Get back to me when you can. But don’t take too long,” Echo said, sliding me a leather folder containing a draft of my contract.

We all stood and shook hands.

“Welcome to the silent jungle,” Echo said with a firm handshake.

“He hasn’t even signed yet,” Optimus pointed out.

“He will,” Echo replied confidently. “Everybody wants to work for the king.”

I stepped out of the meeting with the leather folder tucked under my arm, volts of celebratory energy running through my insides while I remained calm on the outside.

Kendall looked up at me smiling, giving a thumbs-up as I made my way toward her desk to sign out of the building.

A small gust of air from a nearby door caused me to glance down another hallway.

Then I saw her.

Juliet.

Behind a glass wall in a side room, she sat in a chair at the edge of a desk with one leg tucked underneath her. Her hearing aids weren't in. I always subconsciously checked for her hearing aids.

And she was typing.

A pencil rested horizontally between her teeth while her fingers moved a mile a minute across the keyboard.