Heal Me, Love Me

8 - Nasty Flow

The beating of drums bellowed in the room where the brightest of producers were emerged in their conversation about techy stuff Bronze only had a small knowledge of. During the sound check, the producers - the famous Rothsar brothers - battled it out which tempo felt more "right" for the flow of the lyrical ballad. The studio held dozens of proud products of their critically acclaimed beats with platinum and gold sealed records, grand pictures with all of the top artists of the decade, and a vibe only money can talk.

"Ayo, bro, I'm going to spin the track for you and you tell me whether this velocity works for you," Marc Rothsar said, his fingers laid perfectly on the soundboard and his younger brother tweaked the mixer. Bronze watched their fingers danced across the dashboard. The beats were at a quick pace, with a harmonious match of piano keys, drums, and transients.

"That's a dud," his younger brother Sin commented. "Listen, his nasty flow reflects the empathy of his people. Slow down the tempo a notch."

Bronze nodded in agreement.

He fidgeted around on the couch, a bit anxious about his conversation with his ex. Downright unbelievable. She had their baby. Their son. His son. His chest felt fluttery. Even after he showed her his ticket to New York in pursuit of his dreams. He felt the drive to his only goal, his passion, a specific hunch of nearing his ultimate dream. Despite her being oblivious to the fact, he still loved her very deeply. No other female, no matter how hard he fought it, held his heart like hers or made him tremble easily like her. It was such amorous feelings or desires he wouldn't be able to connect with other women. Sex is a facile task for him. Intimacy, though, is an onerous attachment that he deliberately avoided with fans, his team members or co-workers.

Him and Caitlin fought a million and one times. Her annoying fear of failure and the big city life restrained them both in their small hometown. Though they spent many nights talking about their ambitions - with her dreams of songwriting and him his rap music - Caitlin did not budge from there. When he was finally appointed to work for Leo's entertainment corporation, without hesitation he spent his bit of savings on a flight for the following day. He had no choice but to leave her behind.

Bronze felt imprisoned by her last words. The regret he carried was so profound, it carried into his music. Then she disappeared on him without a trace.

"Are you serious right now?" Caitlin had cried long ago. She lunged the notebook, the one she had been writing in a few moments ago, toward him. Her face flushed like it normally did when she was distraught.

"Listen, Cay Cay, it's an opportunity I can't refuse," he had replied then. A sharp, trembling feeling undulated along his back. He dodged a second notebook that flung overhead. He rushed to embrace her, but she fought back. Her hands quickly jabbed out his arms and then forcefully pushed into his chest. He stumbled back. He attempted to put his arms once more around her. "Just stop this."

"I'm pregnant," she yelled. She stopped fighting at once and merely stared with her large brown eyes, with tiny specks of emerald, into his. Her eyes began to water in the corners.

He froze in disbelief. "What?"

"Did I stutter?" she snapped.

His heart thumped madly. A million thoughts raced through his mind.

"When did you find out?" he whispered, barely audible in the wave of their argument.

"Bronze, my man," said the voice of CEO Isaac Cosine, grandfather of the entertainment world. He stood in front of Bronze and held out his hand. Bronze quickly stood up and firmly grasped it. Mr. Cosine chuckled with high enthusiasm. He continued, "I heard your team is on the verge of wrapping up your next feature song."

"Thank you, sir. We've been putting in that work. I'm trying to reach the top of billboards the second time around," Bronze replied, with a fierce tone of confidence.

Cosine did a ring of throaty laughter and patted his shoulder with immediate affection. "Free up a night in your schedule this week. We can celebrate accordingly."

"Thank you, Mr. Cosine." Bronze forced himself to shake off the ache that hollowed him. "Did you finish the schedule for the tours this year?"

Cosine had a way of demonstrating his power over people. He had this all black cane that maneuvered you with a simple gesture. It was a solid tone with a handle in the shape of a large raven's head. Bronze moved into the seat where Isaac pointed his cane. His secretary, Lucien, stood beside him. He was a short, portly guy with circle frame glasses and a knack of easily pissing people off. A studious type of person with a high lack of social skills. Yet, when it came to his boss, he knew to bend over backwards when needed be. Lucien pushed forward Marc's elegant chair behind him and gave him his hand when the boss lowered himself with great discomfort.

"Getting too old for these funky chairs," Mr. Cosine said, adding a short laugh thereafter. "The tours are being halted at the moment." Bronze sat tightly still. His mouth felt dry like when you run for hours on end without a pinch of water. He felt the CEO's words coming, authoritative and almighty, and he said it so cogently, "We are pulling the press forward. Lucien, please."

Lucien handed Bronze an iPad with clipped notes of news article clippings that appeared to be highlight Bronze's career. Lucien had a smug look on his face. Bronze avoided his gaze because he felt the desire to knock him out cold.

"Prepare yourself for a court order," Mr. Cosine said, his eyes narrowed when he met Bronze's wild eyes. "I'm prepared to pay what it is owed. And in return, I'm at liberty to fine the inconvenience fee."

Shit.