That fame belongs to ME.

Part 4

Chapter 4

  "Are we allowed to be in here?" I said, my voice muffled with sadness at the earlier rendezvous with my ex-band members.

 "Of course."Tren looked pre-occupied picking open the large lock that clung onto the door ensuring it guarded.

 "Then why are you doing that?"

 "It's my uncle's, I don't have the key. You should have a little more faith in me..." His voice trailed off as frustration grew on his face. He began smacking the lock against the towering door as if it would magically open.

"Give it here," I said as I grabbed the pick out of his hand and opened the lock myself. I had learnt the art of lock-picking from my seven year old brother who lived with my mother now. I lived with my dad whilst my brother lived with my mother; my parents had made it clear that they would not be able to cohabitate our house without causing World War Three.

 "Wow, Emillie. Where'd you learn that from?" Tren looked genuinely surprised. I liked the fact he was interested so I decided to keep it a mystery. I tapped my nose making him sigh once he realised I wouldn't tell him where I had learnt it from. He got up off his knees and pushed the door open. With him leading, I walked slowly behind in his shadow as if we were entering a ghost house. "Relax; I know this place inside out." Tren sensed my fear, I figured.

I walked with him down a short corridor with framed photos hung up like prized possessions. Tren grabbed my hand and led me to the main room. I felt an electric shock as soon as we made contact and I began to wonder what it would have felt like if I had kissed him. The feeling would have been immense. His spare hand fiddled around the wall in search of a light switch and when he did eventually find it, I was amazed at the sight. The endless buttons sat patiently waiting to be used and the high-tech style of the room made me excited. It was the recording studio of my dreams and I was grateful that Tren had access to this. After all those years of trying, Mysterie and I had never been able to get access to a recording studio which always dented our chances of becoming famous, but now I had everything I had hoped for. I was sure that the band was going to be jealous.

"Like it?" He asked probably respective of the big grin slapped on my face.

 "Like it? I love it! When can we get started?" I was eager.

 "Wait here," he said as he left the room. He came back a few seconds later holding an acoustic guitar.

 "No way! You play guitar? That's so cool." I could hardly contain my excitement.

 "Yeah, I've been playing for a while. Wanna hear?" His colloquial language only made it slightly more believable that this boy stood in front of me was actually real. He was a dream come true; a cliché, but an honest one. "

 "Yes please," I sounded like a twelve year old child asking for sweets but that was how I really felt inside.

 With one hand on the top end of the guitar, and the other in the middle he performed a harmonious melody. He looked divulged in his music; his pupils were rolling back into his head. His angelic voice caused the hairs on my skin to stand up in admiration. My ears felt calm as his sweet disposition entered my ear drums. It was like no other voice I had heard in my life. It was perfect. He was perfect.

Once he had finished playing, he froze smiling at me in pursuit of my thoughts. I tried to speak but my throat became dry; I was speechless.

"So, what do you think?" He asked as if I hadn't got the signal that he wanted my opinion.

 "Great," I managed to say.

 "Really? Do you think it's actually good?" I couldn't tell whether he was just fishing for compliments or if he was oblivious to the extent of his talent.