14. Psalm
Psalm
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.
But real shit, that wasn’t the only reason I was hesitant about the opportunity.
Truth be told, bratty ass was avoiding me.
Before this, I’d always see her, even if it was just her smacking me in the back of the head as she walked by. But since that night, nothing.
She even missed classes, and her know-it-all ass never missed classes.
We were partnered on this assignment, and she only communicated through email. No random arguments. No sarcastic comments. No threats against my life because I disagreed with some point she was making.
Nothing.
Did she hate a nigga that much?
Should I even care?
After all, she was the most annoying privileged person I had ever met in my life.
She was like one of those bad-ass kids teachers secretly prayed would stay home sick.
But just like those bad-ass kids, she was always the one you missed the most. The one you talked about years later.
The one you never forgot. The one you'd drop everything to help without even thinking about it.
Her energy was contagious. People naturally shifted toward her, wanting to be included in whatever joke she was telling or whatever trouble she was about to start.
She moved through life fearless and confident and made her disability look like a superpower.
Add on the fact that she was smart, fine as hell…
A nigga was down bad.
Because somewhere between wanting to argue and wanting to avoid her, I had developed a habit of wanting her.
And that shit had become impossible to ignore.
“Earth to Psalm.” Christian snapped his fingers in my face.
“Look, I fuck with what y’all saying. I do. But I’m a man, and my pride comes first. I got a few hours to consider,” I responded.
“Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall,” Christian quoted.
“Amen,” Mega agreed.
“Fuck outta here,” I said, laughing with my boys.
HUSH Studios was exactly what I expected it to be.
Massive beyond what the eyes could take in at one time. Some rooms were open to the public with glass walls, while others were structured privately. Top-of-the-line music equipment sat everywhere. Award plaques and Grammy statues lined the walls like trophies in a museum.
The only thing that surprised me was how quiet it was.
I expected phones to be ringing, music blasting, and people running around in constant panic mode because their maniac of a boss demanded perfection daily.
I was completely wrong.
Besides the light chatter of the office manager, Kendall, at the front desk, you could hear a mouse piss on cotton.
Many of the glass-enclosed rooms were filled with people obviously working on music. Their heads were bobbing, music board controls were moving, and bass bars were rising and dropping, proving sound was being delivered.
Yet somehow...
nothing could be heard.
“Feel free to look around while you wait for Mr. Everette. But don’t get lost now,” Kendall said with a wink.
“Thank you,” I responded before guiding myself on a tour.
The studio seemed to go on forever.
There were lounges where artists could nap. I saw a sign with an arrow directing people toward a gym and showers. There was even an active café with on-site chefs.
Literally, if an artist had to stay at the studio all night, HUSH was the place to do it.
Making a random left turn, I stumbled upon a massive recording room where every instrument imaginably decorated the space.
Pianos.
Trumpets.
Saxophones.
Violins.
Drums.
This room could direct a whole orchestra.
My eyes eventually found the guitars.
A woman was recording a song while a few engineers listened attentively. Everyone wore studio headphones and seemed completely locked in. The door was open, and I crept toward the entrance to catch a sound.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Not a note.
Not a chord.
Every now and then, one of the engineers would grace the room with an occasional “good job” or “run it back,” but otherwise it was effortlessly quiet.
How though?
My curiosity almost carried me farther into the room when I felt a strong hand land on my shoulder.
“Impressive, right?” a deep voice asked.
I turned around to find Echo Everette standing behind me.
“Uh, yes sir, it is,” I admitted. “But why can’t I hear anything? Not a sound wave or nothing?”
He chuckled.
“I remodeled this place years ago to limit sound. The artists and engineers hear each other and the music through their headphones. When an instrument needs to be played, the doors are closed and the sound stays in the room.”
“Oh, okay. Is that to allow multiple sessions without interruption?” I asked.
“Yeah, sort of.”
His eyes briefly drifted toward the room.
“It’s to allow multiple sessions without interrupting Juliet’s hearing. Before Dr. Pristine designed her hearing aids, she would have multiple hearing collapses and mutism episodes. So, I made it where, at most, she gets maybe two sounds at a time while she's here.”
I nodded slowly.
Unsure if I let him see I was too comfortable hearing his sister's name, he would cancel the meeting on the spot.
The man had designed his entire workplace around accommodating her disability.
That itself was a different type of love and devotion, one you’d see from a parent.
And besides, no one had really seen Nazir or his homeboy since the fight at Sunday’s.
I mean, they were alive. That had been confirmed.
But they were hardly ever around anymore.
I didn't need my career-changing opportunity disappearing the same way they did.
Echo smirked like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“It’s cool, little nigga. You ain’t gotta act like you don’t know who Juliet is. I know every important detail about everyone who walks through any door of my establishment.”
He nodded down the hallway.
“Let’s go.”
And just like that, I followed.
When I walked behind Echo into the meeting room, I was star-struck to see Optimus Grind sitting at the head of the table.
Optimus was a living legend in his own right. His rhymes told stories you could aspire to, and although he didn’t mind getting his hands dirty, his image always reflected that of an upstanding, respectable Black man.
Even though I wasn’t an aspiring rapper, I admired his brand.
I knew him and Echo were close, but I didn’t expect to see him here and definitely not sitting in my meeting.
Echo took the seat next to him, and confusion took over my body because, on impulse, I looked over at Optimus.
“Why you looking at him?” Echo asked.
“No reason, really. I just always assumed the boss sat at the head of the table.”
“In the military, leaders eat last. I let my subordinates eat before I do. Shine while I take the backseat. But best believe they know rank,” Echo winked.