Page 211 of Composed
She grins, all teeth. “Harriet Hunter’s new album.”
“The country singer?”
Talia has always wanted to work in country music. But there’s never been a huge scene in the UK. While it’s growing at a steady pace, it’s not as big as other genres. Harriet Hunter is a rising star, but from what I’ve seen, her team is very selective about who they work with.
Talia nods, bouncing on her feet. “The one and only. She found me on Instagram, and reached out personally. Came in last week, laid down a track, and then asked if I’d want to work on her album with her.”
“Oh my god, Talia.” I squeeze her hand. “That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
She props one foot behind her ankle and dips in a bow. “Thank you.”
“I guess you really do get more work done around here without me, huh?”
The folder feels lighter in my hands as I watch my friend experiencing pure ecstasy. She shakes her head, but I don’t miss the glint in her eyes as she finds her own dreams.
I hold the folder up.
Talia's gaze slides over it. “What’s that?”
“It’s for you.”
She doesn’t make a move to take it from me.
I hold her hand out flat, place it in her palm, and lay mine on top.
Her head swings side to side, her neck jumping as she swallows. “What did you do?”
“What I should have done a long time ago.” I pull my hand back.
She flips the folder open, peeling through the pages. Her mouth drops. Her eyes widen. She hisses a profanity. “This is…”
“Everything. Hendalia Studios is yours.” I flick through the pages for her, stopping only when her lips tremble. I point to my signature at the bottom. “The mortgage is all paid off. The deed is in your name. And the business is being transferred over to you as we speak.”
“Hendrix,” she breathes, a tear rolling over her lashes. “I can’t accept this.”
“This was always your dream. Not mine.” I cup her cheek and brush the bead away. She shakes her head. I tilt mine. “You gave me a place to call home when I had nowhere else to go. This is the least I can do.”
She blinks, her mouth opening and closing, and then in truly Talia fashion, she shouts, “Fuckme. Hendrix.”
“Sorry, love. You’re not my type.” I wink, stepping back and shoving my hands in my pockets.
She hisses through her teeth, and sags dramatically. “And a damn shame too. We’d have been so good together.”
I slant my gaze, my mouth twitching. “Do I need tocall Charlie?”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She grins, shaking her head as her eyes dart between me and the folder. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack. It’s all yours. It should have always been yours.”
A beat passes.
Another.
“Did I break yo—” I squeak, air whooshing from my lungs as Talia launches herself at me.
She throws her arms around my neck, her legs curl around my waist, and we drop to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
Her laughter tinkles through the room, piercing my eardrums. “You sure you don’t want to run away with me and get married and forget everyone else exists?”
