Chapter Text
As final strains of the song carried through, the young woman pulled down her headphones and whisked a lock of ebony hair from her face. She is author to the song, so it came as complete muscle memory. She felt no need to keep listening knowing the vocals were already set. Her confidence soared as she sang melodicaly during the recording, personally bestowing the true sensation of success.
"That's a wrap! You did awesome in there, Pey."
"Thanks, Trisha. Once I post the announcement on my socials, everything else should be ready to go! Can you believe four months went by since our first production?"
"Not even a little bit."
The door to their recording booth suddenly swung open. "And a joyous round of applause for Jamie Wilde and his hours of research on this place! He seems like a pretty hardworking guy..."
Both girls looked smugly. "I think he's trying to tell us something, Trish."
"Yeah. Clearly we forgot something earlier, but what could that be?"
"You two are crazy."
Peyton came forward to tossle Jamie's shoulder, laughing sincerely. "Thanks again for your help, JayJay. Being a year ahead of us in college was actually a blessing in disguise. Happy now?"
"Besides that last part, yeah," he smiled, breaking away to pick up his cell phone. "My messages were coming out of my ears before I silenced it. Mom and Dad wanted to know when I'm planning the next visit to brag about my progress. It's important."
"And being here for your friends isn't important?" Trisha retorted, placing a hand on her hip.
"They say it's a waste of time if I'm not focusing on myself."
"Damn," Peyton murmured, "I'm sorry, JayJay. I knew things were difficult, but I thought your parents lightened up by now."
"It's okay," he replied, waving a hand. "Compared to last year, it isn't too bad. As the middle child, we're usually the forgotten ones out there. That's different at my home."
His friends laughed, but the atmosphere felt clouded. Trisha found it difficult to relate being an only child, but she aimed to empathize. Peyton once understood her position, until she was gifted an adopted baby brother quite some time ago. Her mother wanted another child, yet an unexpected medical report said otherwise, devastating her greatly.
Peyton was little back then; she could, however, recall how somber her parents were. They always engaged in her playtime, silly stories, or simply provided a smile for her, yet she knew better once Devon arrived and gradually accepted his new sanctuary. That boy was eight years old then...
The young woman shook her head and hastily gathered a green-covered folder in her arm. "Well, speaking of food, my mom happened to conjure some of our favorites for the party tonight. I kept asking if she wanted me to cook half of those recipes at my apartment, but she persisted."
"She is one of a kind," Trisha admired. "You are going to meet Olivia Rodrigo sooner than you think! It'll be like a reincarnation of Taylor and Gracie."
"Let me guess, I'm gonna be the limo driver?"
"Just don't be late to the red carpet, smart-ass," Peyton leveled. "Imagine the kind of dress I'll wear above my Converse."
"You would not."
"Oh I would, Trish. I'll even include a pair of socks!"
"Dear God." Jamie is cackling now. "I think we should be heading out."
"Your car is parked near ours, right? For a small studio, that lot is friggin' huge."
"Best I could when I got here. I don't need a chaperone anymore, Pey. Haha."
The group collected their belongings and their car keys to venture outside. The sky reclined for an ash-blue as the afternoon began to drift, a warm haze carried through crisp air. Peyton tossed the metallic bunch and caught it in her hand again, the chiming almost forming a steady beat to her ears. She observed their surroundings carefully, passerby going towards their vehicles or walking dogs during a steady jog.
She wouldn't take her chances. Underestimating strangers is for absolute fools.
"This one is me," Trisha announced, tapping the face of her car. It was a cool, grey Volkswagen with a few charms that dangled above the driver's seat, the only colorful consolation. "I'll see you two at the house later!"
"I don't understand how you claimed such a muted car based on your fashion taste," Peyton amused.
The young woman slides her purse over the shoulder. "Listen, if I need to reapply my makeup, then I don't want a Peeping Tom staring at me when that goes on."
The ignition rumbles to a halt, shedding dying vibrations below the seat as she activates her cell phone. A bundle of notifications flooded Peyton's cell phone, mostly sent by her fanpage or family members.
She beamed checking each comment, letters in all caps, emojis, or simple excitement for the album to drop the next morning. (TikTok and YouTube were lifesavers for faster revenue.)
Giving a heart to a few of them, she exits out to address the text messages she missed. Various praises sent by her cousins -- not all were able to attend -- and from her Aunt Susan and Uncle Robert. As she examined further, there was one contact with no recent news, which remained like this for a while.
Nathan's contact.
She stares at their last conversation melancholy, scrolling to remind herself why it ended. They found themselves equally busy between college, transportation, and those horrendous finals, but a small gap of time would've come eventually. Right...?
The thought of catching up suddenly builds awkwardness and dread within her gut.
Peyton sighed and tucked her phone inside her pocket, exiting the car. Her keys jingled in her grasp, creating that familiar sound as she peered through a window. Her mother is tidying in the kitchen, while Devon was sitting criss-crossed in the living room fiddling his PC controller.
Peyton takes the small stairs and knocks on the door, letting herself in a few seconds later. "Our star of the show has landed!"
Charlotte's entire demeanor illuminated, dropping her dish towel and rushing forward to hug her daughter tight. "Oh, right on time, sweetheart! I was just going to give you a call to make sure."
"You worry too much," Peyton chuckled, pulling away to greet Devon. "I hope Mom didn't have to watch you die in battle for five rounds straight."
She gripped him in a hug from behind, earning obvious backlash. "Hey, no! Don't let me loose my score for this. I helped Mom bake your celebration cake earlier."
"Can I get a hint on what flavors?"
"Nope. I was sworn to secrecy."
"You already knew about the gathering, so I wanted some things to be a surprise for you," Charlotte explained, shaking her head at their antics. "By the way, your dad will be coming home shortly. His boss allowed him a smaller shift so he wouldn't miss the entire party tonight."
"That's great! Was he looking into a retirement plan recently? I want to make sure all of you are safe and sound for the future, you know?"
"He... has considered the idea. You remember how he is, working himself to the bone until health insurance kicks in. I worked part time before you came along, but I wish I could've volunteered more afterwards." She catches her daughter's weary expression, reaching for her shoulders softly. "You don't have to worry yourself, Pey. We live in a great house, we have a busy neighborhood -- sometimes too much -- and extra money stashed away for emergencies."
"Well, I hope you guys never need to use it. If anything, I'd prefer placing it towards a nice long vacation."
Her mother smiled, laughing again. "From your lips to God's ears! But honestly, we're in a good spot."
It isn't to say that Peyton's father had a low income rate at the office. As the years passed, many accepted that an economy can and will grow a mind of its own. Whether it chose to run or practically drag, Mr. Powell always added extra shifts to his schedule. Truthfully, younger Peyton didn't approve and rarely saw the man for most of the day, making her miss her own dad right in their home.
She grew tired of seeing him feel tired, assuming it wasn't enough. He deserved to rest properly.
A chime of their doorbell rang, and Devon nearly fell off a ledge in the game's map. Charlotte eagerly answered, left surprised by who waited on the other side.
"Beatrice! You're the first ones here so far. And this can't be Nathan in front of me right now. He's grown like a beanstalk since last we saw him!"
"Well, that was thanks to the fruits and vegetables I forced him to eat," her friend teased, hugging her. "It's good to see you, Lottie."
Peyton took a quick swing of water to mentally prepare, holding the citrine pendant on her necklace. 'He was destined to be taller because of his dad's height...'
"Hi, Aunt Bea!" Devon said, putting his console down.
He fistbumped with Nathan. "Is that Lethal Company you're playing? You realize that game will become vintage next year, right?"
"It's 2035, man. People can say that anything is outdated."
"Which is the reason why music is so timeless," Beatrice noted. "Congratulations on your album, Peyton! You were busy composing that for six months?"
"Seven, actually. I'm relieved to see it come together since a lot of people were awaiting it."
"Well, I bet that it sounds great!" Her godmother set her purse upon a silver hook above the shoe cabinet, sprucing her ginger hair. "Lottie, did you redecorate in here? I'm seeing different items that look just beautiful."
"A little bit, yes!" Charlotte replied. "Would you mayybe want a tour of everything?"
"Why not? You kids can catch up while we talk."
"Mom, I'm twenty five."
"Same thing, honey!"
Both women took their leave, voices echoing past the adjacent hallway. Devon bounced off the couch to grab pretzels from a small green bowl on the countertop, munching absently. "So, what kind of job do you have now, Nate?"
Peyton subtlety winced. She knew her brother was attempting to minimize any roadblocks, but the topic of jobs or future needs was a sore subject. Their father offered financial help to Beatrice multiple times in the past, yet it was only accepted once. They underestimated how stubborn she could be...
The young man didn't seem phased, however, openly answering the question. "I'm a distribution manager for an Amazon in Belleview. The building is local to our house, so if Mom ran into an emergency, I could reach her faster. The hours are also pretty flexible."
"Congrats to you, man! How long have you been there?"
"It's going on two years."
"I guess that means you're used to writing numbers higher than you can count," Peyton remarked, feeling confident again. Why is this so difficult?
"Yeah," Nathan chortled, selecting a pretzel for himself. "Honestly, the amount of orders can outweigh the amount of people in the factory sometimes. Going behind the scenes makes you appreciate a whole lot better."
"That's true. I think Dev will go into computer programming or gaming designs soon. He's obviously glued to his console over there."
"I've got time, sis. Are you gonna write a song about that moment?"
She lightly tugs a blonde curl from his forehead. "Don't tempt me."
"Speaking of, how many songs are in your album again?"
"Eight. I figured I would go 'Even Steven.' "
Nathan rolled his eyes heartedly. "Of course."
Distant footsteps reached their ears, Peyton recognizing a hospitable opportunity. "Let's say we all move into the dining room? Mom and I can bring out the appetizers unitl everyone else comes around."
"Do you need any help?"
"Just leave it to us, Nate! You're supposed to be the guest today."
The boy's absence allowed Peyton to sort through crisp bags and fruit bowls pre-prepared for the table. Frankly, she assumed that Nathan would've become a baker or sous chef.
When they had called each other, he was almost always busy cooking to aid his mother after a long day. He's quite good at it, too; the main trouble is that you'd need a college degree to even consider that career.
Peyton locked her gaze with the front door, expression somber. Her godfather could've been here as well...