Page 1 of Call and Response

CHAPTERONE

Audra

It was kinda hardto block out the noise sometimes.

At any given moment, my mind was a too-fast carousel, constantly circling, rising and falling with an ever-running list of things to do, places to be, people to talk to, art to create.

It wasloud.

Not here though.

I closed my eyes, sinking back into the time-worn leather of the armchair I’d claimed in a tucked-away corner of the coffeehouse. Without the interference of sight, I could just listen to the ambient sound—the customers, the cash register, the espresso machines, the traffic passing outside…

Mmmm.

It was the best possible ASMR, not beholden to charged earbuds or a connection to the Wi-Fi.

Just enough of a hum to make everything else melt away, allowing me to focus on just thisonething.

Harmonies in the Heights.

There was a whole list of folks who thought it was wild that I would push everything else off my career plate to organize a concert and they had a whole list of reasons.

You’ve never done anything like this before.

You’re not an event planner.

And the one giving me the most anxiety of all:

Performing? You?! I thought you were a writer?

Shit.

I was letting the noise creep in again.

I sat forward, grabbing my lukewarm coffee to take a sip before forcing my attention back to my laptop screen, which I had split into two windows. One was filled with tonight’s lineup—an excellent list of artists. All of whom I’d either worked with before or had some personal connection to the Heights. Despite the secrecy around the list of performers, all the tickets had already sold out, making tonight a success before it even happened.

Kinda.

My eyes fell on a forty-five minute window that currently saidVibe Check.

If necessary, that time would be filled with a curated playlist. People could dance, get drinks, take a bathroom break, etc., before the concert hit another high with one of the big artists—Kyir.

Really though?

That slot was supposed to be a performance slot.

For me.

My other open window held my personal setlist; music that would be brand new to damn near everyone who heard it, which was risky to say the least.

A wiser approach would’ve been to introduce the music on social media first, give myself time to find the audience and vice versa.

The advice I would’ve given anybody.

And yet… I hadn’t been able to bring myself to do it. At every instance, I succumbed to a level of second-guessing that had never been an issue for me. Success at my craft had made me the poster child for confidence in my abilities.

But still.

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