𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 - JJ Maybank

Chapter 100: Mirror Image

By four on the dot, Grace was at the little recording studio on the border of Figure Eight and The Cut. She'd never noticed it before—it was on the upper floor of the barbershop, and the only indicator was a small sign posted on the door leading to the stairwell. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her fingers around the cold metal handle and headed inside.

She wasn't sure what to expect. It felt like her entire life's dreams were building up to this, and yet it was almost... anticlimactic, in a way. There was no confetti, cheering, or finish line to run through. When she reached the top of the steps, the only thing to greet her was a little reception room with posters of artists from the island decorating the walls.

"Hello?" Grace called out. Save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock strung up on the wall, the room was silent and empty.

After waiting a moment for someone to return her call and being met with nothing, she wandered deeper into the studio. Her fingers grazed the wood-panelled wall as she headed down the hallway, her eyes flickering over the vinyls strung up as she went.

She almost jumped out of her skin when a door at the end of the hallway swung open. The moment the handle turned, the silence was jarringly disrupted. All kinds of instruments and voices spewed from the crack in the door before Peter came wandering out. He was still mid-conversation with the previous band as they lugged their amps and guitars out through the narrow hallway, none of them even sparing Grace a glance.

She quickly went from feelings of wonder and accomplishment to almost feeling invisible as the hoard of musicians shuffled past. It reminded her that she wasn't there yet. She had yet to even sign a label; this was all on a trial basis.

It was kind of nice having something else to be nervous about that wasn't life-or-death. A year ago, Grace would have been biting at her nails, rocking on her heels, and twiddling with her fingers, stress eating her alive. But now she welcomed the challenge. This was something she could handle. It was what she dreamed of doing; it was what she was supposed to do. She could do music. 

After the final musician—a man with crazy voluminous curls—staggered down the steps, bass in hand, Peter finally seemed to notice her.

"Ah, you're here," he said in a casual tone, as if he'd entirely expected it even after their phone call.

She nodded. "I hope it's okay. I probably should've let you know I changed my mind."

He shrugged while holding open the door to the recording studio the band had just left from. "I figured if you were anything like your mom, you'd turn up."

She couldn't help but smile. She wasn't used to people talking about her mom so casually, as if she had never really left—which, at least in her mind, was true. Rick had been getting better about it recently, but for years he couldn't even stomach looking at a photograph of her. JJ loved to talk about her mom with her, but with the past year they'd had, they'd put reminiscing on the back burner. It all felt so normal, so natural, despite her only having spoken to Peter once before. "You knew her well?" she asked while sitting down on the green leather couch.

He nodded, slinging himself into the sliding chair that looked well loved and fiddling with something on the sound panel. "Like a sister. I was sorry to hear what happened."

Grace scrunched up her brows slightly, trying to remember her mom ever mentioning him. "How'd you meet?"

Peter took his eyes off of the panel, looking over at her confusedly. "In elementary school, and I produced for her for years. Mind you, she never even let me even talk about releasing anything. I would've had to kick her out if we weren't such good friends. You didn't know that?"