14. Psalm #2
“Shut your ass up,” Optimus laughed, exchanging dap with Echo.
“Anyways, Mr. Mitchel,” Echo continued.
“Psalm, please,” I politely corrected.
Echo placed his right hand over his heart, signaling a sign of respect.
“Psalm, please have a seat. You are here today based on a submission you sent back in 2024. Optimus and I listened to your video a few times and—”
“Little nigga, you cold,” Optimus interrupted. “Had that guitar singing like the rent was due. I fuck with it.”
Hearing that Echo had actually listened to my work and that Optimus was a fan not only felt good, but it was also reassurance that maybe my own talent did get me through the door, and she had nothing to do with it.
That maybe the timing of the fight at Sunday’s and this meeting was merely coincidence.
“Thank you,” I responded.
“You can read and write music?” Echo asked.
“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.
She wore an olive-green racerback shirt, denim capri jeans, and a single Cuban-link anklet gracing the completion of the look along with Fendi slides.
Her skin looked youthful, plump, and hydrated.
Her lips carried a natural sheen.
Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail secured by one of those clear ball holders she always wore.
My palms immediately moistened at the sight of her, at how beautiful she looked in this laid-back element, like I was catching her in a moment not meant for anyone else.
I wished I had flowers to hand her right then, just because.
I could feel my cheeks rising from the smile forming on my face, and then quickly, the smile died because I remembered.
For two weeks, she had avoided me like the plague.
She didn’t even have the gall to insult me for prying into her business.
Hell, slap me for embarrassing her. Something.
But nope, nothing. And here she was, polished, peaceful, not a stress line on her forehead, enjoying the world as it evolved around her.
Meanwhile, I was standing there holding what felt like a pity contract.
A quiet thank-you. A here, take this for your time.
My jaw tightened.
I turned my head, fully intending to leave the building.
My feet never moved.
Fuck that.
She was going to see me.
I took a deep breath, calming my nerves, and caught Kendall's attention. I gave a slight nod toward the room Juliet was in, and she immediately made a hesitant face.
I shook my head playfully and smiled, letting her know without words that this wasn't a bag-the-pretty-girl moment.
Kendall held up five fingers and mouthed, five minutes, letting me know my time was limited.
I winked and made my way toward Little Miss Unbothered.
The moment she saw me, surprise flashed across her face. Then guilt. Maybe even remorse. But before I could make it all the way to the door, there it was.
Attitude.
Always fucking attitude.
I stepped inside and let the door shut behind me.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Nah,” I replied. “You helped me enough.”
“Excuse me?”
Her brows immediately pulled together as if she didn’t know exactly why I was standing there. I tossed the folder onto the desk she was working at and watched her eyes drop to it.
“You got me this deal.”
Her eyes lifted from the folder back to me.
“You got the deal?” she questioned.
Oh, so she wanted to play stupid.
Now I was pissed.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what, boy?”
“Play stupid. Like you didn’t tell your brother to put me on. Like the only reason I got an opportunity to sign a deal with HUSH isn't because you weren't mature enough to thank me for putting your little fuckboy boyfriend in his place. That’s what the fuck I don’t want you to do, Juliet.”
Thank God the door to the room was closed. Otherwise, Echo would've come in here and killed me for talking to her like this.
Honestly, I ain't give a fuck.
Echo's world might revolve around Juliet, but that wasn't how real life worked.
“Let’s go talk about this in another room,” she suggested, standing.
“Why? Can't nobody hear shit in this asylum anyways.”
“They can’t hear,” she corrected, “but they can definitely see when I slap the taste out your mouth. And I don't want my brother or godfather coming in here to beat your ass before I do. Now let's go, nigga.”
Wanting to speak my piece, I picked up the folder and motioned for her to lead the way. She turned without another word, and I followed her into a smaller room with solid walls, one couch, and a mounted television.
Juliet stopped near the center of the room and turned to face me with her arms folded, but her eyes stayed fixed on the door, waiting for it to close.
The second I heard the lock click; she started.
“First off, yes, I did pitch you to Echo. I was looking through his emails and saw your submission along with a bunch of others from two years ago. And yeah, maybe in some way I haven't thought about yet, it was a thank you. But hardly.”
She stepped closer.
“It was because your four-eyed, arrogant, know-it-all ass is talented. Your music is amazing, and I knew my brother would fuck with your talent.”
“Ju, my ba—”
She immediately motioned for me to shut up.
“Second off, you rhinestone-wearing idiot, I honestly don't owe you an apology.”
Her finger jabbed into my shoulder.
“Your mama owes you a therapy session in the art of communication.”
Another jab.
“Do I appreciate you sticking up for me? Yes.”
Push.
“But I didn't ask your arrogant—”
Push.
“Conceited—”
Push.
“Annoying—”
Push.
“Mean ass to get in my fucking business and act barbaric in a public place.”
Push.
“Then you didn't even explain to me what came over you.”
By the time she finished, she was so close I could smell the mixture of mint from the gum I'd popped after the meeting and caramel from whatever drink she had been drinking.
I liked her better like this.
In my personal space.
Eye to eye.
Even if I still had height on her.
“You ran out of Sunday's and avoided me for two weeks. Didn't show up for class. We're paired on an assignment, and all I get from you are subject lines and attachments.”
My voice deepened.
My stare never left hers.
“So tell me, Juliet. When exactly did you leave room for communication?”
The fire in her eyes flickered, and for the first time since I’d entered the room, she looked vulnerable.
“You don’t understand.”
I noticed the slight wetness gathering in her eyes before she quickly turned to walk away.
“So talk to me,” I said, reaching for her arm.
My grip wasn’t aggressive, just enough to stop her before she could shut me out again.
“Help me understand.”
She looked down for a second, staring at where my hand rested against her arm, before finally speaking.
“I couldn’t hear.”
My grip loosened.
“I couldn’t speak.”
Her voice cracked, and whatever anger I had left in me started to drain.
“I couldn’t breathe.”
Every bit of anger I walked into this room with began slipping through my fingers.
“My condition causes selective mutism when my emotions flare. Especially anger and fear. It hasn't happened in years. Not since I got my aids.”
She swallowed hard.
“When I saw you bleeding... saw Mega carrying me away... saw an impending attack that could've killed you... and I couldn't do anything.”
Her eyes finally met mine.
“So no, Psalm. I didn't leave because I didn't care.”
The room suddenly felt too small.
“Because I cared, I managed to scream for Mega to turn around and help you.”
Damn.
“I left because my body betrayed me.”
A tear escaped despite her efforts to stop it.
“No one could hear me. I couldn't hear me. And I panicked.”
Every accusation I'd thrown at her suddenly felt stupid.
Selfish.