The Higher We Soar

15. A patchwork piece

"So, what do you think?" I asked, my voice betraying my nerves as Anthony pulled off the headphones after listening to my track.

He let out a deep breath, a slightly puzzled look crossing his face. Before he could respond, his wife, Meg, who had been feeding their baby daughter in their new, moving-box-filled and chaotic kitchen, gently handed the now slowly falling asleep infant over to him. Tony cradled Poppy tenderly in his arms, his expression softening as he looked down at her before glancing back at me with an amused, if not slightly exasperated, smile.

"When you said you'd help us move, Lenny, I thought it was just that—a favor between friends. I didn't realize you had an ulterior motive," he teased, whispering.

I laughed a little, trying to keep quiet, though it came out more like a sigh. "Tony, I lugged all those boxes from your old apartment to this new shiny house because we are friends... And I wanted to see this cute little blob in your arms. The least you can do is to simply tell me if my idea is good or shit without guilt tripping me." I could feel the tension in my shoulders as I added, "I know it's just my rough mix, and we still need to record a proper orchestral version, same with the pipe organ. Plus, many of my viola parts will be replaced with Jordan's shamisen, so—"

He held up a hand, cutting me off gently, a smile spreading across his face. "Don't get so worked up, okay? I'm just surprised you asked for my opinion. You usually don't give a damn about it. But I guess with Soph and Maddie gone, I'm the best you've got."

I only gave him a gentle smile instead of answering.

"Okay, so... I don't know exactly what Sterling's expecting, and I'm not a producer," Tony continued. "So it's just my general feeling, but I like it, Lenny. I like it very much."

"Y–yeah?" I stammered, my eyes darting between his now grinning face and the small, peaceful form of Poppy, who was dozing in his arms.

"Yeah," he whispered, still smiling as he finally met my gaze. "Well... the concept might seem a little out there—"

"So it is too much," I blurted out, my voice breaking the quiet a little too loudly. Poppy stirred slightly in her sleep, her tiny fingers twitching, and Anthony shot me a quick, sharp look, his eyes narrowing in concern. Thankfully, she didn't wake up. After a few more seconds Tony continued, though, his voice now softened even more.

"No, that's not what I meant," he said, rising from his seat with a careful, deliberate motion. He swayed gently, cradling his daughter in his arms with a practiced rhythm before handing her off back to Megan. She took her with a soft smile, carrying the sleepy little bundle off to the bedroom. Anthony watched them for a moment before turning back to me.

"What I meant was, the idea of having each measure played by a different instrument or even a different orchestra section in one single piece could seem chaotic when you first look at it on paper. But in your execution, each part carries its own distinct character. There's not much in this industry that catches me off guard anymore, but your... let's call it a patchwork piece, is not just cohesive—it's striking. And, more importantly, it complements the final scene beautifully. It builds up slowly. It's powerful, it's moving, and I'm certain Soph and Sterling will feel the same. Pure gold. For me, at least."

"That's... that's a fucking relief," I murmured, my voice trailing off as the tension in my shoulders eased. "I really thought I'd gone mad with this one."

Anthony chuckled as he sat back down, the sound richer, more genuine this time. "Now, that's a different issue," he said with a grin. "But if you're gonna be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're gonna be locked up."*