Thirty Seven

36.4K 1.7K 1.1K
                                    

Ever since he was a little boy, he had always had a hard time controlling his anger. For when he got mad, he saw red and he couldn't help the things he would say in a fit of rage.

It used to be so bad that people would cut him off and he didn't care.

He remembered a time where he had been so volatile that his sister had stopped talking to him for six straight months. It was the longest they had gone without speaking or seeing each other. He was the same self-destructive man he was then, still unable to communicate his feelings properly.

Vera had been sixteen years old at the time, living in his Los Angeles home. She had come home on a normal Monday afternoon to find him high out of his goddamn mind on their couch. There had been a few industry friends over and he didn't remember much of their heated argument. All he could remember was waking up the next morning and finding her room empty.

He didn't blame her for leaving. It wasn't a normal high, there had been needles scattered around the place and various kinds of lethal substances.

After six months of begging for her to return to him, she finally caved in and told him all the nasty things he had said. He apologised profusely for it, showering her in gifts and listened to her wish to relocate elsewhere. She hated how the LA scene was ruining him. He was becoming the same monster they'd ran away from in Russia.

Slater clamped his eyes shut, listening to the catchy beat with such intensity in the hopes to find something extraordinary. Though every time he tried to focus, that god awful feeling of guilt crept over his brain, blackening it.

Clenching his jaw, he let out a low grunt. He could see his sister' glowing eyes behind his closed lids, instantly calming him down.

"We need to re-record more than half of it, sounds like a fucking mess." He stated, snapping his eyes open.

With the melody on the keyboard and the words floating out of her mouth, she paused mid-song.

He dropped his hand and moved over the two of them to pick up some sheet music.

Slater reluctantly lowered his arm and handed the girl back her sheet music.

The well-known musician before him blinked, once, twice, and then she cleared her throat. "But what about the deadline? It needs to be finished by midnight otherwise the label will drop me, I'm on my final warning."

She was stressing out, shoving her hands upwards to run through her silky smooth hair. "Oh my gosh, I'm going to have to move out of my new apartment. Oh my god, oh my god. I can't move back into my parents, oh god, no!"

He chuckled dryly, reaching up to take his headphones off. He moved his chair a little so that he was fully facing her, and pointed down at the notebook in front of them.

"Calm down. No ones saying you're going to be dropped, we just need to find better lyrics, that's it."

Her upturned nose wrinkled slightly from how hard she was straining her face. "Oh."

"Hm." His chest rumbled, amusement creeping over his own features. "You got something better for me or you want me to come up with something?"

She was a cute little thing. Brunette, leggy, and one hell of a powerful voice match her big persona. Cesca Riley or Francesca, as her close friends called her, was Janessa's favourite female artist.

Diamonds Dancing Where stories live. Discover now