The Music Deal (Episode 9)

Read Episode 8 HERE
Predictably, she asked me if I really loved her. I said I was falling in love with her. Why her? I said because I saw her as a special person. I told her she made me happy. I was saying the truth but it was boring, the most boring moment with her yet. She met my eyes. The look on her face was confusing. It looked like pity but I thought she was just so in love.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“I’m afraid,”
“Of what?”
“Why me?” I said.
“Guys are deceitful.”

“Yes some are,” I said, “but some are also honest and I am one of them.”
She continued to look into my eyes. She moved towards me and gave me a kiss. Few minutes later, after mind-blowing sex, I sat up on the bed.
“I composed a song some months ago,” I said. “Would you mind hearing it and playing the piano to it? Maybe even throw in some criticism.”
“It would be a pleasure,” she said with a wry smile as she sat beside me.
I sang one of my best songs as she stood by the piano with only her panties, I stood in front of her with only my boxers. She heard the song for the first time and then played piano to my second attempt.
“That’s a very good song,” she said after the song. “Do you have any other song?”
“Yes,” I said with a smile before we started the same process for the second song.
“These are two very good songs,” she said. “Have you recorded them in the studio?”
“I’m just waiting for the right opportunity.”
“I know someone that could help you record these songs,” she said.
“Who’s that?”
“Not him directly but he knows many producers,” she said, “his name is Peter Parker.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He’s the assistant manager of 2face.”
“Oh,” I said, “does he have an assistant manager? I’ve only heard of his manager.”
“Yes, because he is far less popular than the manager but also effective.”
“Is he a Nigeria?”
“Yes,” she said, her face full of disbelief that I could ask such a question. “He’s even a Yoruba man.”
Which Yoruba man bears a name like Parker? Was his great-grandfather a driver?
“How’s it going to go?” I said. She said all she knew without telling me much. She would send the songs to Peter and he would decide whether the song were good enough. If they are, he would find a producer for the song and from there, many big things could happen. I could even get signed up to 2face’s new record label, Hypertek, according to her.
“Your music sounds very good,” she said.
“Why studying engineering in school?”
“I need something to fall back on if music doesn’t work out.”
She nodded in agreement. My urge was building up as I continued to look at her in admiration. This could be my opportunity to be a music star and she was giving it to me. I could imagine myself singing on the stage one day in front of tumultuous fans. I would probably be on a TV interview and they would ask me the suffering I went through before I became famous and I would tell them how I used to take garri in a bowl instead of a nice China cup, how I used to walk three and a quarter mile – under the scorching sun – to the studio to record songs just because I love music more than anything in the world. It would be a good story even though it would be full of lies. Who doesn’t like a well-crafted grass-to-grace story?
“Let’s record the songs now,” I said.
About an hour later when I left her room, the urge still raged in my body. I wanted to compose more songs, I wanted to sing more. Blessing had dug a well of hope in me.
To be continued 
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