Page 107 of Deeper

“Just a heads-up, Naz is flying in. She insists on helping me get ready for it, but really she just wants to be Paul’s plus-one.”

All of me came to a screeching halt as my head snapped his way. “Wait, so not only is it Patel infested, a potential run-in with your ex, and a could-be fight for you and Teddy; on top of that, we have to deal with your sister?”

To my surprise, Zander chuckled. His perfectly white teeth flashing as he blatantly laughed at my uneasiness. “Easy, that’s my family.”

“And she wasn’t so fond of me the last time we ran into each other.”

“Naz is protective, is all. I told her you were here to stay, and yes, her guard’s up, but I’m certain she’ll come around.” Zander’s grasp on the wheel tightened. “I don’t care about going. I don’t want to be famous. I just want to make music I love and stand behind, and perform it. Being seen here and there doesn’t really interest me. I like you for me because you’re for me, you remind me of Naz, of Paul, not afraid to just call me out and just be here for me. I trust you.”

It felt good to hear those words, to know that he liked me best because I wasn’t out to be known or become famous. I had nothing to sell or promote off of his name, and he appreciated that.

If only we could be low-key forever.

Thinking further as he mentioned family, I was curious. “I like Bright and Courage, but wouldn’t you want to use names from your heritage?”

Zander reached out, placing his hand on my thigh. “Definitely. I think about that sometimes. When I have children, they’re going to know their culture, music, films, food, family—everything. I likeAsadfor a boy andAmalafor a girl. Courage Asad, and Bright Amala.”

I loved the idea of him naming his sonAsad. Saad and Asad would make a wonderful pair. And Amala sounded so pretty. “I like that.”

“When the time is right, I’ll probably be as annoying as DJ Khaled when I settle down and start a family.”

A smile teased my lips at the memory of DJ Khaled’s constant words of affirmation with his firstborn. There was nothing wrong with loving your child and telling them so, and instilling in them the idea of being capable of any and all things. DJ Khaled was the perfect father figure as far as I was concerned.

Zander pulled up to the facility, Platinum Fire Studios, and parked in a lane closest to the entrance. As late as it was, there were other vehicles in the lot as well, letting me know that nighttime recording was popular for other artists also.

Zander was in a simple heather gray T-shirt and a pair of jogging pants, dressed down beside me as he escorted me in.

Inside, at the front desk was a young man bent over a book reading. Zander merely nodded at him in greeting before walking past him towards the corridor of doorways.

“I’ve got to get a haircut. Outside of that, I’m not too worried about hiring a stylist. I’m sure I got something in my closet.” Zander’s hair had grown since our first encounter. No longer only short on the sides, it had filled in and I liked it.Especially the way he wore a headband with teeth to secure the longer bit on top back.

I reached out and ran my fingers through his silky locks.“What’s the color scheme so I can match?”

Zander shrugged carelessly. “We’ll get something on commission brought to the house for you and Naz.”

“I was going to buy something from my store, or the mall,” I confessed, feeling embarrassed suddenly.

Zander’s soft smile warmed me. “Trust me, I get it, but for the sake of my sister and publicist, let’s just see what we can pull, okay?”

“Publicist?” I questioned.

“Fran’s having a field day spinning all of what’s transpired. From cancelling the tour, to this new romance, and to the random single dropping. She’s been chewing me out something fierce. She’s another one who’s insistent on me going to the dinner, to get some good publicity.”

Zander was a brand, and it was important that he and his brand looked good at all times. So I was sure that it was imperative that I looked my part Saturday night as well. If I had to wear some ostentatious designer getup then I would do so with a smile. Either way, I was coming to show out with my man.

We walked all the way to the door at the end of the hallway and Zander let me inside first. At once I was immersed in the colors of red and purple.

The private recording suite was lit with neon purple and red lights. A sign on the wall glowed in radiant red as it readSin Den.

There was a desk that stretched the length of the wall with a series of keys and buttons on it, with two plush chairs on wheels sitting nearby. In front of the desk was a large glass window that gave a peek into the next room where the mic was, as well as a daybed where one could lie back and muse over the lyrics comfortably if they wanted. Behind the desk was a leather sofa, and beside the sofa was a large island where complimentary water was sitting and waiting. As well as writing pads and pens for those moments when creative spark hit.

It felt like I was in a world where magic was created and I was Zander’s apprentice.

I looked around us, amazed at the realness of it all. “Whoa.”

“My producer, Nathan, will be here later, but I just wanted to show you around first,” Zander explained. “This is where it all makes sense to me. Where I can expose all that’s on my mind, break down every wall I’ve got built up and be vulnerable. Whenever I’m at my most down and hurt, I come here and I just record. I started working on this album last year and for a while everything was gray and melancholy, but now I see color and I’m living.”

He spoke with his hands as he explained his love of this room, of this part of his creative process. I could just imagine him that night we were leaked to the public, the night he came here and wrote “Canvas.”

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