Model, Music, or Love

The long night recording an aspiring artist in the studio was hard work. This male record producer Deontae “Deon” Brooks cued up a track for his new, young artist, Cybil Jackson. She was recording a single for her EP. “Okay, let’s turn it up!” yelled Deon. “Okay,” said Cybil from inside the recording booth. Deon sat at his mixing board adjusting the levels of the track and Cybil’s vocals. Cybil adjusted her headphones and began to sing. She’d grown up singing gospel in church but was now an R&B and Pop artist exclusively. Don’t Even Bother Why do you say you don’t bother me?!It doesn’t matter if you never gonna be with meThen why the hell you not speaking to meYou ain’t gonna see me doing badly.When you don’t see me doing anything then you want to come back when you want me.You know what you don’t bother meThen you can’t be with me you won’t be with meWhen you act like you ever love meWhy you got to bother me because you don’t speak to meYou don’t have the words to say them to meDon’t even bother I give all my heart to youYou said you never loved me Deontae “Deon” Brooks stops the music and turns on his mic to the recording booth. “When you get to a low note, get there but go to a higher pitch to match the lyrics. You are angry in your song so you want to go there. You don’t want to take no more shit from the guy. You’re getting all your anger out,” explained Deon. “Okay,” said Cybil. Deon started up the track and sat back in his chair listening with his eyes closed. He cracked a smile and nodded his head rhythmically. She was finally getting it.Don’t even bother!I give all my heart to youYou said you never loved meDon’t even bother! “That’s it! Yell at that guy when you caught him doing wrong,” exclaimed Deon. It was after 2:30 A.M. by the time they finished. Cybil came out of the booth yawning and sat next to Deon. “I think we got it. Once I’m done mixing it, I’ll hit you up so you can check out the final version,” said Deon. “Sweet! Thanks for all your help,” said Cybil. “Hey, not a problem,” said Deon. Deon turned off all the equipment in his makeshift studio and walked to his bedroom. He’d renting office space downtown to do his music but he couldn’t afford the rent after he lost his job as an IT technician. He’d been out of work for almost a year and was starting to feel the pressure financially but he was determined make his music generate money for him. He went to his drawer and pulled out his pajamas and bike riding attire for the next morning. He was a biking fanatic. He rode twice a day, every day. Sean had seen the effect that of lack of exercise had on his parents and was determined to not let it happen to him. Deon went to the bathroom, stripped down and hopped into the shower. When the water hit his 5”9, dark-skinned, muscular, African-American frame, he let out a sigh and turned his face up to the spray. He closed his brown eyes as the water hit his low faded haircut and dripped off his neatly trimmed mini goatee. He finished his shower, wrapped a large blue towel around his waist and headed to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet, two beers from the fridge and sat at the table. He poured a can into the glass and finished it in a few big gulps. He cracked open the second and sipped straight from the can. He hated sleeping alone and drinking helped to keep him from thinking about the empty bed that was waiting on him. He really wanted to be with someone but he was done settling immature types who played silly games.Deon went to his room and slide under the covers over his head hoping the beer would make him drowsy. He thought about this handsome black guy who would drive past him while he biked. He would smile at Deon but he never stopped. The guy reminded Sean of Tyson Beckford except he had a low cut fade. Deon drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face. Deon got up around 11 AM, showered and threw on his Nike Athletic shirt, blue shorts, and running shoes. He grabbed his bike from the hallway and headed to the park. While he was taking a water break, a tall, muscular dark skinned guy jogged passed him and smiled. Deon had never met him before, but wanted to get to know him. The stranger stopped, turned around and trotted back to Deon. “Hi, my name is Derrick. What’s your name?”“I’m Deon, man. I’ve seen you jog past by me every day when I run.” Derrick checked Deon out his body. “Yep, I want to holla at you sometime other than here.” “Cool, give me your number and I’ll hit you up.” “Alright.” Deon rattled off his number while Derrick punched the digits into his phone. “Cool. I’ll give you a ring,” said Derrick as he slid his phone into his pocket. ”I look forward to it,” said Deon as he started riding a way. Later that afternoon, Deon sat in his studio. He was restless with anticipation. He looked at his phone while drumming his fingers lightly on the edge of his mixing board. A barely eaten turkey sandwich sat next to him on a stool. Deon had tried to work on a new track but his mind was busy thinking about Derrick. The phone finally rang and Deon snatched it up and put it to his ear. “What’s up, man? What’s going on with you?” asked Derrick. “I’m good got this studio up and running. Making a track,” Deon waited to hear what more Derrick think about today. “That’s what I like to hear. Seriously, man, I have to be honest. There is just something I like about you I don’t know how to explain it yet.” Derrick mentioned. “I guess when we meet up again you can tell me.” Deon interested to know more about Derrick. “Why don’t you come over today and I will.” Derrick said made it sound humorous. “Cool. See you in about thirty minutes?” “Sounds good. See you in a bit.” Deon straightened his place up a bit while he waited on Derrick to arrive. He checks his fridge and was glad to see that it well stocked with beer and other drinks. The doorbell rang and Deon went and opened it and let Derrick in. “You made it,” said Deon. Derrick looked around Deon’s house and nodded his head in approval. “So, I see you don’t speak too much?” asked Deon. “I do, but you just got to get me to talk more,” answered Derrick. “Yes, I will,” agreed Deon. “Are you charming me with your words? I must say that since we ran into each other while we ran, I really like you a lot,” said Derrick. Deon smiled a minute. “Why now?” asked Deon. “I couldn’t say that to you before,” answered Derrick. “Why do you sit down and I’ll make something to drink,” said Deon. Deon moved the papers off his couch. Deon walked in the kitchen to get a soda. He came back in the room and Derrick got his own soda. Deon took Derrick on a tour to his studio upstairs. “I like the studio, how much did this all cost to build or set up?” asked Derrick. “Around $375,000 dollars,” answered Deon. “Wow, you must be rich,” said Derrick. “Yeah, but I’m far from that,” said Deon. Derrick sat at the soundboard where the technical gears for music and he tried the different buttons. “What are these entire switch gears do to help the singer while their singing?” asked Derrick. “Do you mean how I produce them while they sing?” asked Deon.“Yes, that’s what I’m asking,” Derrick said. Deon pointed to the recording booth. “All you do is while they sing, you would cue the sound, the audio and you would hear them sing through that booth.” Deon taught Derrick what was there to produce a song. Derrick was somewhat catching on what Deon showed him. He never had been in a recording studio and Derrick was so fascinated by what a studio was like in an actual studio. "I will be glad to show you more the next time you come over,” said Deon. “Yes, that would be a good idea,” said Derrick. Deon and Derrick went out the door. “Why do you come over for dinner tomorrow and we can talk some more,” said Deon. “Yeah, that would be great. I’m free tomorrow,” said Derrick. “Okay great, well see you tomorrow at six,” said Deon. “Okay, bye-bye,” said Derrick. “Bye,” said Deon. Deon shuts the door as Derrick left.