18. Chapter 18
Acertain Summoner-shaped knight on a white horse kept visiting my dreams. Wednesday morning, I climbed out of bed, sat at my desk, and started to type.
There was no set plan, no plot. Just the rapid firing of my synapses.
The words needed out. Writing was the perfect distraction from stupid friends, stupid complex relationships, and work.
It was a strange feeling to be so excited to write something that wouldn’t make me any money.
Summoner planted a creative seed. Feeling it germinate and grow inside was exciting. My fingers flew over the keys with an ease I never noticed when writing listicles. Time fell away, meaningless as I fleshed out my ideas. Two hours flew by.
In the kitchen, as I refilled my coffee cup, the sound of a booming knock at my front door startled the hell out of me.
I pressed my hands against the cool wood of the front door as I looked through the peephole.
My heart stopped. A familiar dark peacoat stood in the hall.
Again, he knocked. Yesterday, he texted a few more times, and again, I left him on read. I was being silly, but I was hurt.
Instead of talking about things like a reasonable person, I chose avoidance.
With a steadying deep breath, I yanked open the door.
Without an invitation, Summoner strode into my apartment.
Door closed behind him, he reached up and adjusted his cap.
No longer pulled low on his forehead, his eyes were free from the shadow.
I swallowed hard, but nothing moved the lump in my throat. Summoner’s eyes left me cold. Frozen tendrils stretched like wispy veins at the end of a snowflake through my chest.
Fuck…
Those green orbs seemed to look beyond me. They smoldered in a measure of controlled anger. His usually kissable mouth was set in a straight, unmoving line. Purposefully, he crossed the room and sat on the futon. His eyebrows twitched up, imploring me to explain myself.
“Hi! Uh, yeah, so, I went to the doctor and got my medication changed. Nothing too drastic, just a dose increase. And I was totally going to text you and let you know, but there was a crisis. I’ve been so wrapped up in stuff I haven’t even started my new dosage yet.
” I admitted my hands flew around wildly.
I hadn’t taken a dose since Sunday. I’d forgotten. And now, without something in front of me to focus on, I was spiraling.
“A total crisis! You wouldn’t believe it!
So, you know about my friends Jordan and Shay?
Their relationship exploded! Although they broke up, Shay still sees value in his light or something, so she had me check on him.
And let me tell you, Jordan was not taking it well.
He wouldn’t get out of bed! Break-ups suck, but I didn’t think he would take it so hard.
I only say that because he’s always so hard on me for being down. ” My rambling trailed to an end.
Summoner’s imploring eyebrow slowly dropped. I had said a ton of words to avoid confessing my hurt. A hurt that I hadn’t expected. A hurt that left me acting like an toddler. Quiet settled around us. I was desperate for him to say something. His steely silence played on my nerves.
“…You should get dressed.”
“Why?”
“You’re coming with me.” His face remained unmoving.
Like I was told, I ran into the bedroom and quickly threw on a chunky cable-knit sweater and a pair of skinny jeans. I shoved my laptop into my backpack and slipped on my leather calf-high boots. Front door locked behind us, I chased after a retreating Summoner.
“Where are we going?” I huffed once I managed to catch up with him outside.
He didn’t answer. Pouting, I plodded along at his side. As we walked several blocks, I couldn’t help but be taken aback when he abruptly turned into an alley and swung open a door.
Where the fuck are we?
He led me down a dimly lit hallway. Summoner pulled open another door. I stepped into the room, and I was breathless. Eyes wide, a high-pitched squeal burned my throat raw. A recording studio. I was standing in a recording studio with Summoner.
“It’s not what you think,” he noted quietly as he glanced over his shoulder at me.
He’s not making new music, then…
The walls of the room were covered in unfinished wood.
On the left, up a step, sat a massive mixing board surrounded by computer screens and speakers.
A large window on my right side showcased a connecting room with a grand piano, a drum set, and several microphones.
I tried to stifle my excitement, but a small squeal managed to escape from my lips.
Summoner shook his head and hung up his coat.
I had a million questions swimming in my head.
Before I could start asking millions of questions, a voice shouted, “Mah boy!”
I turned around to see an entourage of guys stepping into the room.
A tall black man stepped forward. His presence exploded like rainbows around him.
Although I was usually slow on everything pop culture, I instantly recognized him.
Wooly was a rapper. A 2-time Grammy winner.
An international star. His breakout hit Tag In was a song about getting head while watching wrestling.
He was the Lover Man. And he was smiling at me.
Me. Dressed in a dark brown fur coat, a fresh pair of Timbs, a pair of artfully ripped jeans, and a black shirt that said, See You Space Cowboy.
“Did we keep ya? I know your ass don’t like to wait.” In person, Wooly’s swagger felt like cosplay.
Looking at him, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he grew up going to private school in the burbs.
“No. I just got back,” Summoner sat behind the mixing board.
“Ah, who is this?” Wooly waved a hand in my direction.
“Uh, hi.” I smiled.
“Hi.” He grinned. “I’m Wooly. Who might you be?”
“I know who you are. I’m Poppy. Nice to meet you.” I tried to keep my voice level and not to melt into a puddle of Poppy goop.
Carefully, Wooly cocked his head to the side as he appraised me. I straightened my spine.
“Very nice to meet you, Poppy. Summoner talks about you a lot.”
“Nah, I do not!” Summoner protested.
A poke of hurt tickled my chest. Wooly raised his eyebrows, and his eyes flickered between us momentarily, as if he sensed a connection. He dismissed Summoner with a wave of his hand.
“Ignore that fucker.” Wooly slumped into the nearest chair and kicked up his feet. “So, tell me about you, Poppy.”
I shrugged. “There’s not much to know.”
He shook his head, “A pretty girl like you? I know that’s not true.”
Wooly’s entourage nodded in agreement. My cheeks warmed. Somewhere behind me, Summoner coughed.
“Well, I know I like your shirt.”
He shrugged out of his coat, “Cowboy Bebop a fucking classic! What you know about that, Poppy?”
I sat down beside him. “I used to stay up late to watch it. It’s an all-time great.”
His eyes lit up. “Fuck yeah it is!”
His entourage dispersed throughout the studio as we debated the merits of early 2000s anime and various video games.
I agreed with most of his choices, but I put my foot down when he tried to convince me that Ryu from Street Fighter could beat Kenshiro from Fist of The North Star.
For being very famous, and even with the looming presence of his entourage, Wooly was very easy to talk to.
He leaned in and listened intently, making me feel like a selective spotlight shone on me.
Also, it didn’t hurt that when he smiled, a perfectly-sized dimple made itself known on his left cheek. He had me feeling a little flustered.
No wonder they call him the Lover Man.
“Girl, you’re so beautiful you made me forget my pickup lines!”
Under the put-together veneer, he was a total cornball. I loved it. I shook my head, and he laughed.
“Trust me Poppy, I know what the women want.”
“That might be your brand, but you don’t know all of us.”
Wooly affectionately reached up and pinched my cheek. “I know what I know, and I’m sure I could figure the rest out. You included.”
Damn that dimple.
“Are we going to record anything today?!” Summoner’s sneer cut the air.
Wooly rolled his eyes. “Quit your yappin’, man!”
Wooly stood up and shot me with a finger gun.
I giggled like an unhinged, mouth-breathing weirdo.
Cheeks tingling, I waved him off as he and several of his people stepped into the adjoining room.
Soundproofing and headphones made hearing what was happening nearly impossible.
Dejected, I pulled out my laptop and set up a workstation in the chairs near the door.
Surprising myself, I worked through two articles: “Why cupcakes are America’s new sweetheart” and “Which MCU character is your Myers-Briggs soulmate?.”
While I typed, I couldn’t help stealing glances at the recording space.
On the other side of the glass, Wooly hopped around with direct precision.
He started at the piano. Breathless bars left his mouth as his fingers pounded at the keys.
I never would have guessed that he had classical training.
From there, he moved to the standing microphone and effortlessly spit bars.
The unaffected ease he rapped with was astonishing.
His hand waved through the air, keeping him on beat. I hated that I couldn’t hear anything.
Just as I hit save on another listicle, Wooly burst into the mixing room. “You can’t tell me that’s not fucking it!”
Summoner rolled his eyes and pulled off his headphones. “It’s better than the 30 shit takes you gave me earlier, that’s for sure.”
“You can stop being a hater anytime. I’m trying to impress your girl!” Laughing, Wooly slapped Summoner’s shoulder.
“Is this a new song?” I asked timidly.
“Not just a song. A whole damn album!” Wooly grinned.