CHAPTER 4
MATT
“That was amazing,” I praised Luka who looked at me with hopeful eyes after nailing the backbeat three times in a row with newly added rudiments.
“Really?” The tips of his ears pinked.
“Yes.” I smiled at him. “You’re learning fast. Soon, you’ll be playing like me.”
“I’d like that,” he muttered shyly.
“Good. Now come on, let’s watch the movie.”
He nodded, beaming as he took my hand.
Soon, we were all watching Pirates of the Caribbean just like I promised the boys, who were all giggling smiles and gleaming eyes the entire movie.
And like every week, Luka stuck to my side and Mitchell to his.
I was growing an unhealthy soft spot for the boy.
But it couldn’t be helped. We shared a special bond.
Maybe because I saw a version of me in him.
“I’ll be here next week, okay?” I said to Luka, hugging him tight. It was getting harder and harder to say goodbye to the little fella every week.
“Okay,” he muttered, his face etched in a frown. “I can’t wait to see you.”
A sharp inhale lodged in my throat at the hopeful tone in his voice. “Me too, buddy,” I managed to say. “Now, go on before you get in trouble with Lucia.”
He nodded, giving me one last hug before he scurried inside the door Lucia held open.
After making sure he was safely inside, I gave a curt nod to Lucia before turning back.
Last week was the least productive week I’ve had in a while, and that made me restless and anxious.
I didn’t like it at all.
I liked getting things done. I liked being efficient with my time, not spending the entirety of it trying to find a name for the label.
I just didn’t get why it was so hard for me. But who was I kidding? This entire project was too far out of my comfort zone, and I had no clue what I was doing, well, except for the music aspect of it.
My sister thankfully put together a team that handled most of the logistics and admin so I could focus only on the music, but still, important decisions like naming the label fell on me.
And I was running out of fucking time.
I retraced my steps from last week, heading straight to the town hall.
Unlike last week, there wasn’t a crowd, and to my surprise, Raphael was there waiting for me in the same spot, crossed-legged as he leaned against the park fence.
I thought he would be a no-show, given how flippant he was.
“Hey, big man.” He looked up with a grin. “Thought you wouldn’t show.”
“Funny,” I deadpanned, “I thought the same.”
“Great minds think alike, eh?” He raised a cocky brow.
I shrugged. “So?” I asked, cutting straight to the chase. I didn’t want to waste my time if this boy was playing around. I had my team run a check on him, and he seemed legit—grew up in Iona his whole life, decent grades, and no record. That was well enough for me.
“Yeah, about that. I’ve made my decision,” he said, standing upright. The mirth in his eyes vanished, and a steadfast intent replaced it. Even his voice held a tone of seriousness.
Guess the boy had another side to him.
I remained unfazed, though, because I knew someone exactly like that.
“I want in.” He stared straight at me. “But I don’t trust you, not yet at least. You can’t expect me to when you show up out of the blue and say you want to make me famous.”
“I agree, and you shouldn’t,” I said. “There are people in the industry who will drop you like a hot potato the moment they’re done or drain the life out of you till you have nothing left. I know because I’ve been there. But I’m not going to do that. I have no use for doing that. The whole point of me starting this label is to redefine the industry standards of how music should be and make the raw, real talents shine rather than fund another marketable artist.”
He listened without blinking.
“You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll have my team draw up a contract, and you can look over it with your lawyer and family. Your rights and time will be respected, the signing bonus will be a million dollars, and you get to keep 50 percent of whatever you make. My cut will just go back to the label to fund other artists when we sign them. You can walk out anytime. I won’t force anything on you. I’ll also give you full creative control. I want to create with you, not for you. What do you say?”
He looked pensive as he thought for a second before nodding slowly. “Yes,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’d say yes.”
“Good.” I gave his hand a firm shake. “You’ll have the contract delivered tomorrow. I want to start right away. I want you in New York at least five times a week. You’ll be assigned a manager who will take care of everything for you.”
“Wait.” He held up a hand, shaking his head. “I’m still reeling over the fact you said a million dollars. I’m going to be a millionaire?” He grinned.
The clown was back. “Yes, possibly.”
“Also, what you yapping about me not being marketable, big man? I’m both hot and talented.”
I sighed. “Fine.”
“And New York? I can’t possibly go down there that often.”
“I agree. I’ll arrange a place. You might need a guardian to stay with you. Might also need a guardian’s approval for the contract, but I’ll leave that to the lawyers,” I explained, just as a soft breeze washed over us.
“Guardians’ approval?” His eyes widened.
“Yes. Assuming you’re under eighteen.” I knew, but I didn’t voice it.
“About that.” He ran a hand through his hair, averting his eyes. “I need a favor.”
I narrowed my eyes. “A favor?”
“My parents, well, actually my mother thinks I’m going to college for chemistry,” he said with a shaky laugh.
“So?”
“I need your help convincing her that I can really do this,” he mumbled.
“No.”
“What?” His eyes snapped to mine. “Don’t you want me?”
“Yes, but convincing your parents is not my job. It’s yours.”
“Please,” he pleaded, a desperate look in his eyes. “My mom wouldn’t believe me. If you’re there, we can both convince her. You can tell her I’m good at this and can really do this. Please, big man, I really don’t want to miss this opportunity because of my mother. I really, really want this. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”
Fuck, negotiation and strategic conversation were not my strongest forte. But the kid was right; he needed someone to stand by his side and advocate for him. And now that responsibility fell on me.
I reluctantly nodded. “Fine.”
“Really?” His excited eyes flew to me.
“Yes, really.”
“Thank fuck,” he muttered, grinning. “Then come on,” he said and started to walk away.
And I stared at his back.
A moment passed before he realized I wasn’t with him. “Come on,” he called out over his shoulder.
“Now?” I mumbled.
“Yes, now.” He waved his hand like I was dumb. “If not, when?”
I exhaled, following him.
Within minutes, we were at a complex a few streets over and he led me two stories upstairs, speaking at a hundred miles a minute about irrelevant topics that just went straight through my head.
“This is me,” he said, pointing at the wooden door that had the number 24 written on top of it. He drew a pair of keys from his pocket and turned them in the fob.
“I’m home,” he announced as he stepped in, and I shadowed behind him.
The apartment was modest, with warm yellow wallpaper, bright lights, and wooden flooring. The TV ran in the background, in front of which were two brown couches in parallel lines facing each other.
“Raphael, you pig. Did you steal my soda?” shouted a honey-toned voice that made me look up.
A girl approached us, her eyes trained on the huge bag of Cheetos that her delicate fingers were digging inside. She was swallowed in a huge purple hoodie with a few questionable orange spots and pixel monster boy shorts that showed off her toned, thick legs.
I shouldn’t be staring, yet I couldn’t stop for some reason.
Soft glowing skin and pine-colored hair, held by a pencil, in a huge knot on top of her head. I had an odd urge to tug the pencil free to see just how far her hair would fall. Would it be her waist or her hips?
“Ahem.” Raphael cleared his throat, which made her head snap in our direction.
Wide hazel eyes blinked at me.
Beautiful.
A gasp escaped her pink lips as they parted, and a second passed before she jumped, her Cheetos flying everywhere like confetti as she screamed so loud that I had to take a step back.
“Si, calm the fuck down.” Raphael was on her side, patting her shoulder.
Her hands cupped her mouth, her eyes still fixed on me in a ghostly stare.
Raphael whispered something in her ear, which seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in.
“Matty.” He turned to me with a cocky smile. “Sorry about my sister. Sierra, here, is a little jumpy.”
“No, I’m not,” she whispered, her hands dropping to her side. “I was just surprised.” She made a timid step forward, holding out her hand. “I’m Sierra,” she breathed.
I nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sierra.” I grasped her small hand in mine. Her tiny fingers poked out of my huge palm, which swallowed her hand.
The touch of her soft skin sent a weird charge to my heart. She just stood there staring at me with her wide hazel eyes.
Did she feel weird too?
I quickly dropped her hand.
My hand paused midair when I saw powdery orange spots sprinkled over my palm.
Now, I knew the reason for the questionable orange spots in her hoodie.
“Fuck.” I heard a soft curse.
My eyes flew to her once again, and she was in a shade of crimson as she gazed at my hand. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I muttered, wiping it away on my hoodie, which I’ll probably throw away after tonight.
“Sierra, please tell me what was the possible need for you to scream like that,” reprimanded a voice that entered the room.
An older lady, whom I assumed to be their mother, slid her sharp gaze to me. “And who might you be?”
Fuck, this was going to be a long fucking night.
Ten minutes later, Raphael’s entire family gathered in the living room.
I sat beside Raphael while his parents sat opposite, watching us intently. His sister stood in the corner stealing glances at me while still sporting the bright flush on her beautiful skin.
Like the sky when the sun was setting.
His Abuela sat in her rocking chair, too focused on the TV to even care about the tense energy slithering in the air.
This was officially the most awkward moment of my entire fucking life.
“So you’re telling me that you want to sign my son?” Victoria started once again with her insistent questions. I spent the last ten minutes explaining everything to her, yet she still had questions.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you guarantee his success?” Her narrowed eyes regarded me.
“That’s not something I can guarantee. But he is talented, so I’m confident.”
“Look, sir…”
“Please, call me Matt.”
“Mr. Evans,” she said, completely disregarding me. “We are a simple family; we aren’t used to how the rich and the famous live. My son may have the talent, but he would have no future if he chases his silly dream. In the real world, dreams don’t really pay the bills. A proper education and a job do.”
“Ma,” Raphael moaned, but I held up a hand.
“With all due respect, Mrs. Chan. If dreams didn’t have a future, then I wouldn’t be here today. I assure you that it certainly paid my bills and more, to the point that I don’t have to work another day. Your son’s dreams are valid. You wouldn’t know unless he tries, and if there is one thing I can promise is that he is in safe hands.”
“I think you’re my hero now,” Raphy muttered, looking at me in awe.
She frowned. “But…”
“He’s right.” Her husband, Jen, stopped her. “If Raphy didn’t have the talent, then Mr. Evans wouldn’t be here today. If he says our son has a chance, then I will choose to take it. I trust him, and I trust our son.” He smiled warmly.
“Thanks, Dad.” Raphy jumped up, hugging his dad and then his mom, who reluctantly patted his back.
Thank God that was settled because I couldn’t take another second of it.
“Although, Mr. Evans.” Jen slid his gaze to me. “I would feel better knowing if my son stayed with you rather than on his own.”
An uncomfortable lump stuck in my throat. I hated sharing my space with anyone. I needed order and discipline, but I did have plenty of room, so I could avoid him and make it work.
I slowly nodded. It was just going to be temporary, right?
“Good,” Jen replied with a smile.
“But he’s only sixteen, Jen,” Victoria voiced out. “We can’t let a minor go live in the city. He needs a guardian.”
“Ma,” Raphael whined. “I can take care…”
“I’ll go,” shouted the same honey-toned voice from the corner, and all eyes snapped to her. “I’ll go,” she repeated, standing tall. “I’ll be his guardian.”
What the fuck?
What in the fucking hell did I get myself into?