Fireworks 1 and 2

Chapter Eighteen

    It felt good to be home. The airport had been chaos. Gossip news sites received word of his impending flight and were ready and waiting to pummel him with questions about who they were calling the "mystery girl" from the club in Toronto. It was only a matter of time before they found out who she was. He wondered whether or not she'd heard about the story and if so, wondered how she was taking the news that she would soon become an overnight sensation.

    The boys were just as relieved to be home as he was. Most of them had their own homes on his property. They didn't hesitate in scattering, most likely headed to their own quarters to get some rest.

    Drake loved putting on OVOFest. He loved what it did for the city that had helped raise him, but the event was always draining. He never felt exhausted during the festival. It always seemed to hit him afterwards, sometimes days or weeks after. When exhaustion hit, it slammed into him like a Mack truck. He had a tendency to overwork himself. It was in his nature. He had certain goals he wanted to achieve within certain timeframes, and to get there it would take work. His boys worked hard. As their perceived leader, he had to do the same - if not work even harder.

    Even now, Drake was tempted to make a beeline for his upstairs master bedroom, a luxurious and ridiculously large suite that could fit approximately six average-sized bedrooms within its confines. Instead, he headed to the studio.

    The minute he walked into the studio he'd had built on his property, he heard music. A hypnotic, seductive instrumental. The music stopped suddenly, then queued back up again. Drake burst into grins as he rounded the corner.

    An average height, bald Caucasian male bent over the engineering controls. A fitted white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers encased his lean frame. His eyes were closed as he listened to the music. He shook his head, muttering to himself under his breath and stopping the track again.

    "Hard at work, like usual."

    Noah straightened his posture and his frown transformed into a warm smile. "You guys are back already?"

    Drake chuckled and went over to hug his close friend and producer, Noah "40" Shebib. "Already? We stayed an extra day."

    Noah's brows shot up and he ran a hand over his head. "Where has the time gone?"

    Drake laughed and glanced over the controls. "It sounds like you've cooked something wavy up for me."

    "It's nowhere near done," Noah said, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's a piece I can't figure out. It'll get there."

    "Have you been taking care of yourself while I've been away?" Drake asked him, his tone turning serious.

    Noah nodded absent-mindedly. "Yeah, of course."

    "So you haven't been working too hard? You've managed to get some rest while we've been gone?" The tone of Drake's voice said that he didn't believe his friend.

Noah shrugged, adjusting the controls on the board.

Drake clapped a hand on his back. "You're going to get some rest this week, man. I can't have you overworking yourself."

"If that's not the pot calling the kettle black, I don't know what is." Noah adjusted a few more controls and started playing the track again. "What about you? Have you been taking care of yourself?"

Drake scratched his head and took a seat at the soundboard station. "Uh...."

Noah laughed. "What's her name?"

"Am I that transparent?"

Noah gave him a knowing, sidelong glance. "Are we talking Take Care 2?"