Just What I Needed

Just What I Needed (40)

Saying a quick hello to Maureen as they passed in the hall, Keely took a deep gulp from her hot chocolate – yes, she was switching it up – as she headed straight for studio C, another disposable mug in her other hand.

Shoving the black door open with her hip, she paused when she found the control room empty, a small smile blooming on her mouth. But that smile quickly switched into a from as she remembered the last time that she'd found the studio empty. Moving hastily forward, she peered through the pane of glass into the sound booth. Her smile came back when she saw the microphones set up inside the booth.

It was a very good thing that he was somewhere in UAE – probably making a pot of coffee even though one of them always brought coffee with them, the boy was addicted to it – because Keely possessed no way of breaking it his apartment at that point in time. After all, she wasn't the one who knew how to pick locks.

Dropping her bag along with the cups onto the table at the back of the room, Keely flung herself into one of the chairs, rolling it hurriedly forward to the soundboard. Seth had never actually told her specifically not to touch the board, in fact she'd even moved a few dials without him even saying a word. But she could clearly see him slapping Colton in the back of the head for touching the intercom button, not to mention him and Marco beginning to shove each other for the same thing, though it was more playful fighting that time. Yet she found everything with those three boys hard to take seriously lately, at least when the three were together.

Feeling a bit like a child trying to steal from the cookie jar, Keely ran her fingers along the board. Yes, Seth was teaching her about it little by little, but she'd love to know as much about it as he did, it simply fascinated her.

That was an idea, she mused, if Rachael the evil witch ended up to be right about her album flopping, maybe she could become a producer, because she would never sell out her music, it meant too much to her. Yeah, producing didn't sound bad at all. Maybe even if her album did well she could be a producer too, Seth did it and managed to be an artist too, to be fair he barely slept, but she could do it too.

The door swung open with an echoing bang, causing Keely to jump violently in the chair.

Hastily, she shoved herself away from the board, shooting her hands up in the air as the chair hit the table with a solid thud. “I wasn't touching the board!” she proclaimed quickly.

“No that's – what? I don't care. Rebel, look at this!”

Blinking in confusion, Keely tugged her chair towards him. He was smiling hugely, the dimple in his left cheek in full form, his eyes shining with no sign of that darkness she'd become accustomed to. He was holding out a folded up newspaper for her.

She snatched it from his hands, sending him a bewildered look, but he didn't even seem to notice. Before she could look at it though, Seth spoke, seemingly unable to hold it in.

“You're number thirteen.”

Her confusion was just building, and she felt her nose crinkle slightly as she looked up at him, letting the newspaper fall to her side. She was number thirteen? Number thirteen what? “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Number thirteen,” he smiled as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, holding out his arms slightly as if hoping it would force her into understanding. “For You is number thirteen on the music charts.”

Keely's mind went blank, and she just gaped up at him, her eyes wide, “What?”

“After only being released for three weeks, your song is number thirteen on the New York music charts,” he said, the smile still on his face.