Page 4 of Love is a Drum Beat
Marco’s brow arched in surprise. “We are talking about Melanie Snyder here, right?”
Dax shrugged and reached into his messenger back for his ball cap. He put it on his head and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up.
He hadn’t seen many paparazzi around the recording studio, and even if they did see him, they wouldn’t know it was Dax Nelson. But he still wouldn’t risk it.
Marco laughed. “You look ridiculous.”
“I’d rather look ridiculous than like a star people want to mob.”
“Isn’t that part of the fun of being famous? All the screaming fans.”
Dax pulled on the collar of his sweatshirt. He’d been asked this question so many times. Few people understood his need for privacy, for secrecy. He wanted to continue making music, but flashing cameras and crowds terrified him. “This job isn’t about the fame, Marco. It’s about the music.”
Marco smiled at that. It wasn’t the first time Dax had worked with the man, and there was a mutual respect. They both recognized the talent in the other.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dax gave a final wave and ducked out into the hall. A few other artists were here today, recording what they hoped would be hits.
The difference between them and Dax? Daxknewhis songs would be hits. He didn’t have a big ego or think he was the king of music, but he’d gotten to the point in his career where fans would buy and listen to anything he put out.
It didn’t make him work any less though.
He glanced behind himself to make sure the hall was clear before pushing out into the bright L.A. sun. The studio sat in an arts district near galleries and fancy restaurants. At night, the area came alive with street performers. But during the day, Dax could slip from the studio unnoticed.
The hiding was a routine by now. He kept his eyes on his feet as he walked down the street and ordered a car. The few people who knew who he was didn’t understand why he didn’t drive one of his nice cars through L.A. The truth? Driving in traffic made him nervous. Leaving his car in parking lots made him nervous.
Basically, life made him nervous.
By the time he reached the small artisan bakery he went to every time he was at the studio, his car was only a few minutes away. He walked inside, and the dark-skinned, older woman behind the counter smiled.
“Dillon.” She greeted him with the name he’d given her two years ago when he first discovered the place. Though, the way she said it hinted at her knowing it was a lie.
“Good morning, Nevaeh. How are you today?”
She laughed at his formality. It was a dance between them. He wasn’t quite sure how to relate to normal people, and she indulged him.
“I’m just wonderful, Dillon. Your usual?”
He nodded. “Can you put an extra shot in it?”
One eyebrow lifted. “Living dangerously today, are we?”
“Just living busy.” He’d need the extra caffeine from the espresso shot to get through the meeting.
Nevaeh hummed as she worked, and Dax surveyed the rest of the bakery. It was empty, save a few young adults huddled around tables. They must have been Dax’s age, but he felt so much older than them as he watched them laugh and joke. He’d started working at the age of eleven and never looked back. There was no normal school experience. Once word got out that he had the ability to play most instruments he picked up, that was the end.
His parents tried to save him from the music world, but even at that young age, he’d insisted on pursuing it.
Nevaeh slid the cup across the counter as Dax’s phone beeped with an alert that his car was outside. He handed Nevaeh a twenty.
“That’s too much, dear.”
Dax shrugged. “It’s all I have on me. Keep it. Please.”
She smiled. “You try to have a good day, Dillon. Don’t be so serious all the time.”
He lifted his to-go cup in a salute and headed out the door to his waiting minivan.
Oh man, he was going to catch so much crap for showing up at the label’s offices in the back of a minivan.
