36. Renewal
RENEWAL
“ M orning,” he said as he looked at her. They woke to the quiet hum of the studio, the low electrical breath of equipment that had been left on too long, lights dimmed but warm, cords snaking across the floor.
Spring lay still for a second, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember the last time she’d slept somewhere that felt this… loaded.
She shifted slightly.
Preston was on his back beside her, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other relaxed against the couch cushion. He looked younger like this – less armored. Like the boy she’d known before the world got loud.
“Well,” she said softly, mostly to the air. “This is… new.”
He smiled without opening his eyes. “Is it?”
She turned her head to look at him. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like this is a thing.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
He lowered his arm and met her gaze. For a second, neither of them spoke. That old rhythm – awkward but familiar – slid back into place, like muscle memory.
“I didn’t plan for it to happen here,” he said. “Very unromantic of me.”
She laughed quietly. “You sang your soul into existence last night, Preston. You get a pass.”
“So, you like that?”
“When you said, ‘I love your lips, I hope you know what I mean’ – instant moisture.”
They laughed as they sat up slowly, reality settling in.
Spring reached instinctively for her bra – then realized she had no idea where it was.
He noticed. “Lost something?”
“Do not,” she warned, scanning the room.
He held up a finger. “Counter-argument: absolutely do.”
She threw a pillow at him.
He laughed, then softened when he saw her expression shift – not embarrassed exactly, just… recalibrating. “Hey,” he said gently. “We’re good, yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Just… a lot happening at once.”
Before he could answer, her phone buzzed.
She checked it with a groan. “Rae.”
“Of course it is,” he said.
She ignored it.
It buzzed again. Then again.
She answered. “What?”
“Bitch, where have you been?” Rae demanded. “I’ve been calling your ass since six.”
Spring checked the time. “Oh…. I um… had a late night.”
“Oh? That’s all you have to say?”
“Damn girl, my bad. A sister got tied up.”
Rae scoffed. “Yeah, I bet. Well, while you were experimenting with BDSM, the board has been meeting without you. I had to stall.”
Spring sat up straighter. “Wait – what kind of meeting?”
“I’ll explain, but you need to be awake awake for this.”
As if summoned, another call came through. Unknown number .
Spring frowned. “Rae, Hold on. I got another call coming in.” She answered. “Hello?”
“Spring, it’s Marcia,” the voice said smoothly. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Spring glanced around the studio, then down at herself. “No. Just… early.”
“Good. I’ll be direct. As you know, one of our board members also sits on Universal’s advisory council.”
Spring’s stomach tightened. “I’m aware.”
“They are very interested in Preston Cole. But they want a bigger position – a cleaner package. If he were open to signing with them for his next album, then the documentary isn’t only green-lit, but the budget could expand considerably.”
Spring stood up slowly, pacing. “This is coming out of nowhere.”
“They saw his rehearsal last night – between you and me, whatever he did started a bidding war,” Marcia said calmly.
“Sony, Warner Brothers – hell, even Def Jam is at the table. But Universal is the only one that knows his camp wants a documentary. So, they’re opening up the wallet. Think of it as… leverage.”
Spring opened her mouth to respond?—
—and Mack walked in, his white silk shirt halfway opened.
He stopped dead in his tracks. Lowered his sunglasses.
Smiled.
“Well, damn,” he said pleasantly. “Good morning, sunshine.”
Spring instinctively crossed her arms.
Preston glared at him. “Mack.”
Mack’s grin widened. “Relax. This ain’t my first set of titties – although I see why they call her Spring now… perky.”
Preston shot him a look. “You’re gross and that’s not funny.”
“I didn’t say it was,” Mack replied easily, holding up his hands. “Just observin’.”
Spring turned slightly away from the door. “I’m going to have to call you back,” she said carefully. “I need to see what’s actually possible on my end.”
“Of course,” Marcia replied. “But call me as soon as you can. We want to secure this sooner than later.”
“Will do. Talk soon.”
The call ended.
The room shifted. Spring gathered her clothes and the pair got dressed while Mack turned around and leaned against the door frame. “So,” he said lightly. “Looks like Universal finally woke up.”
“You knew.” She said.
Mack shrugged. “After what Superstar did last night – the singing, not the fuckin – I suspected.”
Spring’s eyes narrowed as she finished dressing. “I suspect there’s more to this.”
“You’d be right. I was waiting to see who made the first move,” Mack said. “Looks like they did. Told you’d they’d be back to kiss my ass.”
Before Spring could even exhale, Talia walked in.
Mack clapped his hands once, sharp and loud, like he was calling a room to order. “Alright,” he said, grinning. “Now that everybody is dressed, I got great news.”
Preston looked up from the couch, still unaware of the contents of her call. “What kind of news?”
“The kind you don’t ignore,” Mack replied. “There’s officially a bidding war.”
Preston stilled. “For… what?”
“For who ,” Mack corrected. He pointed at Preston. “Preston Cole. Although from the sound of things, your girl already has some idea.” He pointed towards Spring.
Preston blinked. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking about any of it,” Mack said. “Labels are calling. Promoters too. They want a tour.”
Preston stood. “Based on what?”
Mack’s smile widened. “Based on last night.”
Spring frowned. “What I don’t understand is, this was a private screening. How did it cause so much fuss in ten hours?”
Mack pulled his phone out and turned the screen toward them.
It was Preston. In the studio. Eyes closed. Raw. Vulnerable. Singing like the room didn’t exist.
Spring’s stomach dropped. “Is that from… last night?”
Preston snatched the phone. His jaw clenched as he watched himself – watched the moment before it even knew it was a moment. “There were no cameras. How did this get out?” he demanded. “Who in the hell leaked this?”
Mack shrugged. “Internet did what the internet does.”
Preston’s voice rose. “No. Someone recorded me. Someone in this studio.”
Mack’s tone stayed light, but his eyes sharpened. “Easy Superstar.”
Preston stepped forward. “Mack you promised me?—”
“It wasn’t me baby,” Mack said quickly. “Relax, before you pop a vein.”
“Then who would’ve do—” Preston snapped.
“I did.” Talia said.
The room froze. Preston looked at his mom, betrayed. “What?” Preston said quietly.
“Ma… You recorded me?”
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t apologize. “You always sang your best when she was around,” she said softly. “You still do.” She glanced at Spring and rolled her eyes.
Preston protested. “That was private, Ma,” he said. “You don’t get to decide when I put out my art.”
“Preston, we were bleeding money, I took action. Besides, you were amazing.”
“It was a gamble we didn’t have to take.”
She stepped closer. “It worked just like it did back then.”
His laugh was bitter. “I was a kid back then.”
“And you were fearless,” she replied. “You trusted your voice.”
Mack cut in gently. “And it worked now, too.”
Preston rounded on him. “This isn’t your call, either.”
“No,” Mack agreed. “But the results are undeniable.”
Spring finally spoke. “You took his choice away.”
His mother looked at her, tired. “You new aged kids with all your bullshit ass choices. I gave him his shot back. Isn’t that what we wanted?”
Preston shook his head, torn between fury and something that looked dangerously like hope. “You think this fixes everything?” he asked.
“I think it opens doors,” she answered.
Mack chimed in. “Hell, I’ve talked to more promoters this morning than I’ve talked to in the last year, P. And they aren’t talking House of Blues. Big venues.”
Just then Mack’s phone rang. He lifted his ringing phone in the air. Sony Records. He answered the phone.
Spring caught Preston’s eye. The weight of it all sat between them – opportunity, betrayal, momentum moving faster than consent.
And beneath it, the truth none of them said out loud yet: once the world was watching again, there would be no slowing it down.
Mack paced as he talked, phone in one hand, contracts spread across the island like playing cards. After a few minutes, he hung up.
“Sony’s all in,” he said. “Global muscle, touring infrastructure – real money.” He glanced up. “We’re already flirting with twenty million in valuation.”
Talia raised her hands in the air and said a quiet prayer.
Mack hugged her and then looked at Spring. “You tell those guys at your lil’ company, if Universal wants in at that level, they know what to do.”
Spring stepped closer, calm but sharp. “One of the board members sits on Universal’s board,” she said. “They’re not just circling Preston, they’re trying to leverage him – bigger check if he signs exclusively.”
Mack let out a low whistle. “See? That’s what I’m talking about.” He smiled, proud. “This ain’t theory anymore. This is the big leagues.”
Phones started buzzing again. One after another. Mack didn’t even look, just scooped them up and set them aside like it was rain he’d expected.
Preston stood still, hands at his sides, watching the room move without him.
His mother turned on the television. The anchor’s voice filled the space: “…a surprise comeback performance lit the music scene on fire last night, which has ignited a bidding war for Houston native and controversial R&B sensation Preston Cole…”
Footage rolled. Headlines. Speculation.
Mack’s grin widened. “That’s my cue.” He clapped once, already halfway out the room. “I’m gonna go make this real. Nairobi, let them know the number.”
The door shut behind him.
Silence followed – thick, heavy.
Preston sank onto the edge of the couch. The excitement hit first, fast and dizzying. Then the weight followed right behind it.
His mother saw it immediately. “So,” she said gently, sitting across from him. “How does it feel?”
He didn’t answer.
Spring caught it too – the way his shoulders dipped, the way his smile didn’t quite land. “You don’t look happy,” she said.
“I am,” he replied. Then, quieter, “I just… need to clear my head.”
His mother leaned forward. “Baby?—”
He stood abruptly and looked at Spring. “Can we talk?”
His mother paused, then nodded, standing slowly. “I’ll give you two a minute.” There was something sharp in her eyes as she walked away.
Spring followed Preston into the back room.
He paced once, then stopped.
She wasn’t sure what to say. She knew he was carrying the weight of his new reality.
She stepped closer. “It’s a lot coming at you really fast,” she said.
“I hate it already, but what choice do I have? This whole thing is happening because of me. Because I froze. Because I walked away. Now everybody’s scrambling to clean it up.”
“You didn’t break anything Preston,” Spring said.
He laughed without humor. “Feels like I did. Feels like I’m responsible for all of it.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “You stopped because you were empty. That’s not failure – that’s survival. And the only bills you need to worry about are the ones you want to pay?—”
“Now you know that’s bullshit.”
“It sounded good though, right?”
The pair chuckled together.
He looked at her then. “What if I disappoint them again?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Then you’ll still be alive. And honest. And singing because you chose to – not because you were cornered.”
He exhaled, shaky. “You make it sound simple.”
“It’s not,” she said. “It’s not supposed to be.”
The noise outside crept back in – phones, footsteps, distant voices – but for a moment, it was just them.
“You don’t owe anyone a version of yourself you can’t live with,” she added softly. “Not me. Not your mom. Not Mack. Not the world.”
Something settled in his spirit. “Thank you,” he said.
She smiled comfortingly. “You’re allowed to be anxious and gifted at the same time.”
In the other room, his mother watched the door, unreadable.
And Preston, grounded again, realized something quietly, unmistakably true: no matter how big the room got, around Spring was still the only place he could breathe.