The Right Note (BWWM Interracial Romance) Read Free Page B

watch, the hands read five-fifty nine. She waited for the second hand to finish it's journey before pressing the buzzer at exactly 6pm. Her heart was beating too fast, her mouth felt dry and hands were clammy. In other words, she was nervous as hell. She heard no noise coming from inside from the buzzer so she pressed it again. She was shivering slightly but she didn't want to knock having been told specifically to ring the buzzer. Not wanting to be an annoyance. she walked around the front entrance feeling the chilly air for a minute or two before trying again. this time the speaker came alive.
    A strong, polite voice spoke, businesslike .
    "Yes?" Hayley felt suddenly calm, rising to the occasion she answered in a steady voice.
    "It's Hayley Parker. Michael's friend, I'm a songwriter. Michael made an appointment for me to meet you."
    "Oh he did, did he? He paused to check his schedule "Yes I see, I remember now- you're late.
    "Hayley said diplomatically, "I'm sorry, this place was a bit hard to find"
    He smiled to himself and said with satisfaction.
    "Yes it is, Isn't it? you'd better Come in from the cold, then."
    There was a loud click as the lock opened. She opened the door and closed it behind her to stand in the narrow foyer. A florescent light flickered above, A heater blasted below. There was nothing to look at but grey walls as she heard his faint footsteps approaching the heavy looking inner door to open it.
    It opened as she stood there calmly, ready to face him. He was older, of course, lines around his dark circled eyes. There were uneven patches of gray in his dark medium length hair. Grown out slightly, Still thick and glossy, the front fell down only an inch or so above his eyes, throwing a slight shadow over the top of his face. The main difference Hayley saw immediately between this man's face and the one in the photo was his sardonic demeanor. The hazel eyes were darkened from too much introspection, but a kind of dancing energy peeked out in quiet amusement making the seriousness of his set jaw seem like it was poking fun at itself. He was cool but a steady, potent energy flowed out of his competent, deliberate movements. He smiled hello easily and led her in without shaking her hand or making any formal introductions. She followed, wound up inside, with her own quiet intensity coiled like a spring waiting to be released.
    In the dim, moody light her eyes glanced around to see a spare oblong space. in the near corner was a fridge next to sink set in a small counter with a coffee machine drip-dropping away on it. The floors were brushed concrete, matching the ubiquitous gray paint all around. the lowish ceiling had industrial panelling, light came mostly an old track lighting system, which illuminated the room unenthusiastically. halfway across the long narrow room there sat an old black leather couch against one wall, which faced a battered but obviously loved and well maintained upright piano on the other. A little drafting table next to that, littered with score paper and half finished lyrics, was angled so that one could easily slide over to write on it without moving off of the Piano bench.
    On a side table next to the couch were several bottles of liquor and a half empty carton of cigarettes. Several old ashtrays, the standing kind that looked like they came from an old hotel or movie theatre were scattered around the room and looked as full as one would expect, given the stale, acrid smell that pervaded the room. A little farther away a plain wooden chair sat near a wall where several guitars hung on brackets next to an old humidifier.
    The far wall had gigantic speakers mounted high up on them. they were angled slightly facing downward at large modular desk space desk which had a a couple of large flat-screens as it's main fixture. several keyboards and modules stacked were opposite it. a large rack mounted set of amplifiers with a compact mixing desk atop was set at a height for for easy access