Good Morning, Love by Ashley M. Coleman

Author:Ashley M. Coleman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2022-06-21T00:00:00+00:00

TRACK 17

Red is pumped about presenting the song we created. I’m anxious as hell. This Saturday will be my first time seeing Tau since he’s been back from Vegas. Then there was linking with Dylan, which scrambled my brain. I’m not going to let man trouble mess up this opportunity. This is make-or-break. We had one more week to get it right before Tau was back on a plane to LA. If Tau records one of my songs, it has the potential to change everything for Red and me.

After tackling an inordinate amount of laundry, enough to see the shag rug in my room again, I gather my things to head to the studio. Humming the melody as I skip down the stairs, the title comes to me. “Good Morning, Love.” That was the name. They normally came to me after the song was complete.

The same receptionist from last time greets me when I arrive at Stadium Studios. She informs me we’re back in Studio A. I push open the soundproof door and Meck is on the other side.

“What’s up?”

I look at him and toss my bag near one of the chairs closest to the wall. I trace the strings of the guitars set up in the corner. He stares at me as I completely ignore his greeting.

“Really? So she’s fucking Tau Anderson and now she’s too good to speak. Funny,” he says while making a sucking sound with his teeth. He straightens his ugly chain and adjusts his polo shirt. “Your man says he’s running late.”

His verbal assault is jarring and the wild look in his eyes reminds me of the last time we were alone in a studio. My skin starts to crawl. Okay, Tau was late, but where the hell was Red?

“I’m out.” I turn to hit the door and he closes the gap between us fast and grabs my arm. “Get off me,” I yell back at him while trying to snatch my arm from his grip.

“Maybe now I can see what’s so fucking special about it. Does glitter shoot out of it or something?” He’s so close his hot-ass breath is violating my nose.

“Get the hell off me, Meck!” I shout, but I’m sure no one can hear me through the thick soundproof door. My skin is flushed. The door is maybe seven steps away, but that’s practically the distance of a stadium from end to end in my position. I’ve never in my life had someone put their hands on me and my mind is racing about how to escape. He grabs me tighter and pushes me against the wall, knocking one of the gold plaques off-center. He pins both of my arms against the wall. I’m writhing in his grip but he’s so much stronger than me.

“You let him hit it and not me, huh?” His eyes are wide and glassy. “I get you into a good situation and you still want to act like a bougie-ass bitch!”

I can barely hear him, though I realize he’s calling me every name under the sun.

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