The Sound of Serendipity

by Cynthia A. Rodriguez

  In another life, in my perfect world, I’d kiss him. Right now as the snow kisses our skin.

  Instead, I walk away and wonder if it’s any different from running.

  It’s raining outside as I make my way through the city. One of our artists is hosting a fundraiser for the public school system. Events like these are usually left for my father but he insisted I attend instead, reminding me that Kingsley Records supports their artists and that he’d be sending over staff from each department as well. I show up at the event and fold up my umbrella just inside the door. As I look around, I realize I’m overdressed. While the invite boasted ‘casual attire,’ I’d decided my slacks and blouse would have to do because I wasn’t going to change when I had to go back to the office anyway.

  As the children run past me in their red shirts, I start to understand that this fundraiser is more on the active side. Even the adults, some B-list and C-list celebrities as well, are dressed down. I’m scanning the room when I see the back of a head that I’d know anywhere. Over six months of watching him makes me an expert on the direction of his hair’s growth and the style of his cut.

  I glance at my watch because it feels like I’m late. The invite said it started at three and the rose gold face of my watch reads twenty ‘til.

  I pull out my phone to call my father but I’m interrupted.

  “Freaking out yet?” That velvety voice makes me want to smile, but I bite my lip against the urge and look up at him.

  “No.” I raise my chin with indignation, but Maddox’s chuckle shows he doesn’t quite believe me.

  “You’re certainly dressed to play.” The temperature of the room rises as his eyes travel up and down my body, pausing at my breasts for the briefest of moments. If I hadn’t been so used to watching him closely, I might’ve missed it.

  “I didn’t realize—” A child bumps into me and, without a word, runs away.

  “Or maybe you’re just afraid to let your hair down.”

  I raise my brow.

  “Are you trying to challenge me or something?” My brain and mouth are on the same page for once, and I want to reach over and pat myself on the back.

  “No,” he says, oblivious to my celebratory moment. “I’m trying to tell you that it’s okay to have fun. I know you’re the boss lady and you have a lot on your plate, but sometimes you need to act your age.”

  I can’t be this obvious. I want to deny it and tell him that, when I clock out, I’m a tightrope walker. Or that I’m a jewel thief.

  For someone who knows nothing about me, he sure knows that I’m boring as hell.

  “What’s the plan here?” I glance around at the room before looking at him. He shakes his head and chuckles again.

  “That’s just it. There’s no plan. Only fun.” I lift my wrist to check the time and mentally calculate how much time I can afford to spend on this ‘fun’ he keeps mentioning.

  “I’ve got…maybe an hour,” I announce, and he sets his hands on his waist as he looks around.

  “Let’s help with the show. I hear it’s starting soon.”

  Before I can respond, he’s behind me, his hands on my shoulders, pushing me forward. I try not to smile so wide, but since he can’t see me, I let my giddiness hijack my features.

  When we get backstage, the music teacher and the artist hosting the event are trying to get the kids together. We offer our assistance and the looks of relief on their faces is comical. I’m handed a list, and Maddox is told to line them up by their names. I call them out, and he wrangles them into shape as the other kids laugh.

  I try not to get all googly-eyed when I see Maddox interact with these kids. One of them tugs at his arm, and he squats down to talk to them. I wonder if he wants kids. I wonder who he’ll end up having them with.

  One of the women helping has slowed our progress significantly, flirting with Maddox while I’m left waiting for her to go away so we can continue. She touches his arm before moving away to talk to one of the children, and I try not to roll my eyes. At least we’re almost done.

  I look down at my heels, lifting one to give my foot a break followed by the other, rolling it around. I announce the next name and when I glance up, Maddox is in front of me.

  “Your feet hurt?” He’s so close to me that it startles me a little.

  “Oh, uh…I’m fine.” Maddox turns to the woman who’d been flirting with him and asks her to take over. I frown as he leads me toward the bleachers.

  “Take them off,” he tells me as I sit down.

  I shake my head and look at the floor, imagining the things I could pick up from its surface.

  “Emerson,” he says as he squats down and before I can pull away, he has one foot in his hands. He slides the shoe from my foot and it’s like some sort of reverse Cinderella story. He’s looking at my angry pink foot and I mentally thank my pedicurist. When his hand grazes over it, I involuntarily flex my toes, nearly moaning at the feeling of it being free.

  “I just need a minute,” I assure him as the kids begin to file in their seats for the show.

  “Nah, we’ll just watch from here.” He pulls off the other heel, and I wonder if I’m imagining the way his warm hand lingers on my calf. When he sits next to me and places my shoes on his lap, I grin. He looks my way and his grin matches mine.

  “What? I assume these mean a lot to you.” He shrugs and then the music starts.

  The sound of hope is the sound of children singing alongside a powerful woman’s voice while Maddox hums along. But all while we sit there, I’m quiet. I’m reminding myself why I’m this way when it comes to anything remotely close to love.

  The last thing a man like Maddox needs is to be stuck with my terrible heart. The one that falls too hard too fast. The one that wishes to trade places with the heels on his lap.

  When the show ends, I gather my shoes and bolt from the building with only a small smile and a wave.

  Chapter 7

  Asa’s album is complete. Her official release is a few weeks away, and I take pride in knowing I played my first major role in an album. I’ve done songs here and there, but to be loyal to one project and have my name listed on nearly all of the songs? It’s exhilarating.

  Meanwhile, Maddox is coming into his own at Kingsley. I guess you could say we both are. I went from seeing him from afar and in my daydreams to seeing him every weekday in passing or in meetings where I had to pretend I didn’t want to stare at him the entire time.

  Each time we pass each other in the office or I bump into him somewhere, I feel the world slow. Like it’s slowing down a little just so we can reach out and grab onto one another before the moment is over. A moment where both of our worlds line up and we’re almost in sync. Each time we miss our mark and the moment disappears.

  Sometimes I think my imagination runs wild. Other times, his gaze or touch lingers and I feel like I’m not so alone in my feelings. But those moments are fleeting. They’re nearly microscopic moments in time and I’m left with my arms around myself, wondering. Maddox makes me wonder more than anything in the world.

  I can’t do anything with what Maddox gives me. Or doesn’t give me, rather. So I stop myself from thinking of him in any way that isn’t professional if I can help it. But not when he comes into the office with a fresh haircut. Not when he wears those worn jeans that looked as soft as butter. I’m hopeless against his crooked smile and the five o’ clock shadow that graces his jaw by noon.

  No matter what I try, Maddox is around, and where he is, there’s no peace to be found.

  I’m sitting in my office crunching numbers when my father walks in. Because I’ve been taking on so much, I ended up cancelling our Thanksgiving plans and spending it at the office instead.

  “How’s everything going?” he asks, and I almost envy the lightness of his steps. That used to be me before I decided to throw away my passion for his.

  Stop it, I tell myself. This is my life now and I like it. I love it. I have no reason to envy him because I
am supremely fortunate.

  “Fine. Good,” I say, and I look back down at my work. Not because I’m being a jerk, even though it feels like it, but because I’m falling behind on my work and I desperately need to get caught up so that Monday won’t break my back.

  “I know we haven’t gone to lunch in a while. Want to go next week?” He sounds so hopeful and it sparks nostalgia in me; like mom is going to push the doors open and immediately rush us home for a bowl of her homemade meatballs. I tap on my keyboard a little harder than I mean to.

  “Uhhhh,” I’m still focused on my work and while I wish I could give him more of my attention, I know if I don’t finish soon, I’ll be here late. “Sure. Hollis will let you know when I’m free.”

  He stands there and the more he does, the more I want to tell him that I want to be around the music. But I can’t be a quitter when he’s relying so heavily on me, and I know there isn’t anyone who’ll take care of Kingsley the way a Kingsley will.

  Mom would never let this happen. She would never have us working so hard that we don’t have time for one another.

  Inside, I’m thinking this mostly because I miss how she made him live. A little over a decade without her has been hard on him.

  Outside, I’m doing my work, waiting for him to leave so I don’t have to feel like we swapped out lives, and I’m pretending that I’m not whining like a child internally. I hate feeling so conflicted, but I tell myself that as long as he can’t see it, it can’t be that bad. I’m allowed my personal moments of weakness.

  “Well, Maddox is in studio three with a new artist of ours. I figured you might want to pop your head in there. See if you can lend your magical ear.”

  “If I have time, for sure,” I tell him, running the tip of my pen down the numbers I’m looking over on my monitor.

  I can see him walking around my office, looking around at the records on the wall—platinum and gold ones that make me proud of my contribution. After a moment, he says goodbye and walks out. When the door closes, I shove the papers away from me. I need the music. I need it so much that I feel like I’m losing my grip on everything else, including my sanity.

  I check my watch. It’s nearly four in the afternoon. I know if I can sprint through this last bit, I’ll make the session and tackle the rest of my work afterwards.

  When I’m done with my work, I tell Holly to head home and I make my way toward my favorite place in the building.

  Maddox is a master in the studio. He is magnificent. Where I’m quiet and determined, he’s a tornado of creative chaos. And it works. It just works. I’m sitting in the corner as he plucks at a guitar’s strings in the booth. The artist he’s working with is standing beside me, his eyes on Mr. Bailey with a sort of reverence, and it makes sense because I feel like that’s how I’m watching him as well.

  “Come back in here, Jay. Let’s get those vocals one more time. It needs layering.” He’s up before the words are out of his mouth, setting the instrument aside and gesturing for the young man beside me to come in.

  Jay enters the booth, they exchange words and Maddox pats him on the back before coming out and taking a seat in front of the audio mixer. He presses the button for his mic.

  “One last run through, just like we said.”

  Jay nods and places the headset on. I don’t wonder so much about Jay because I know a lot about him already. I know that it was Maddox who discovered him when he was taking the subway…somewhere or other. Jay just happened to be performing at the right place at the perfect time. I smile at the thought of the universe lining us all up for our destinies. I wonder how far I am along my journey. Was I on the right path? Before I can ponder the thought, Maddox presses a button and I pay close attention.

  When the music starts, I don’t quite understand it. It’s a simple sound, one full of percussion until it swells and Jay sings. It’s like a funky take on the latest dance music craze. Electronic but with a psychedelic feel.

  I find my feet tapping and when Maddox looks over at me, I smile. It’s so good. It’s amazing.

  I stand beside him so he can keep his eyes on the artist and brace myself on the edge of the equipment. It feels nice to lean on something. I can feel his body heat beside me, so close to my arm, and I try hard not to let it affect me. I’m professional and I’m capable. This man beside me will not derail me…even if his jawline looks like it’d feel nice under my lips.

  He made something out of nothing right before my eyes. Lyrics included. That’s something I have yet to attempt. I may know what a song needs once it’s existing, but Maddox makes a song exist from start to finish and he makes it an experience. He’s a creator and I want to know what else he can bring to life. Will he be the one to bring me back to life? The way my heart beats makes me think so. I know that I’m existing because I can feel him and smell him and I know a good thing when I see it, but I want to be so much more than just existing.

  “What do you think?” he asks before turning back to look at Jay.

  “Wine from water,” I tell him.

  His hands still their ascent to the volume and he scoots back from the mixer. Smiling brown eyes full of disbelief turn to me.

  “Yeah?” He sets those hands on his denim-covered knees, and I love the way his chambray shirt stretches to accommodate him. I love everything about the way my eyes lock on Maddox and I take in all of his details, especially when he isn’t looking. But now that he’s looking, I can’t stay on any one part of him for too long. Not those lips that press together when he’s thinking, not the dark brows that furrow, their shape making him seem intense, not the tops of his cheeks where he still looks a little boyish, and certainly not his neck where I’m so damn certain his pulse isn’t jumping the way mine is.

  I rub my fingers over my right lobe, feeling the daisy stud I wore the day we shared the cab.

  “Without a doubt.”

  He runs one of his hands over his face, the scruff there catching my eye. Then he looks at me again and I’m pinned right where I’m standing. Brown eyes that look like melted sugar are reaching out and holding me in place, keeping me from running and keeping me from falling.

  “That means a lot, Emerson.”

  He’s smiling and I’m smiling and maybe we’re finally in sync and I’m grabbing onto him. Maybe my fingertips are so close to his. I can’t feel it but I just know it.

  “I think you’re one hell of a producer. You have the magic touch,” he continues.

  It’s likelier that I was reaching out and Maddox wasn’t. I look down at my pumps.

  “Thanks.” I look at Jay in the booth and I wish for that dreaded word.

  More.

  I want more so much. I want the most. I want it all.

  But Maddox and I are coworkers. I’m his boss and maybe his friend. Hardly. We’re friendly but we definitely aren’t more. He wraps up the session and I walk out, ready to send a few email messages and head home.

  I’m typing my last email when someone knocks on my open door.

  “Still here?” Maddox asks, and I nod with a smile before continuing to type. “Almost done?”

  I nod again and hit send.

  “Done,” I announce and stretch, reaching toward the sky. My sweater rises and when I look at Maddox, his eyes are on the inches of skin I absentmindedly reveal. He looks back up at my face as I adjust my rolled up sleeves.

  “Wanna grab a drink?”

  I can’t be trusted with a drink when you’re around, I want to tell him. But I know I can’t deny myself the torture and pleasure of his company. Instead I shrug and dig my phone out of my purse to text Holly not to wait up. There’s nothing wrong with having one friendly drink with my walking wet dream. I twist my lips to keep from smiling and turn off my desk lamp.

  “Where’re we going?” I think about the fact that Maddox had to purposefully come to my floor looking for me in order to catch me at the office. We don’t work that closely together, and the thought makes me hopeful. Immediately, I stamp d
own the feeling. Drinks are nothing. Hell, I’d been offered a lot more than that in life and here I was, grabbing at any chance of secondhand happiness.

  I grab my coat from the rack and fold it over my arm before wrapping my scarf around my neck. Maddox is wearing that brown leather jacket, and I can’t trust myself not to drool all over him.

  He pushes the button for the elevator. I can see the faint reflection of us in the shiny bronze of the elevator doors. I’m short and holding onto my coat like it’s a lifesaver, and Maddox is tall and his arms hang free. We make an odd pair but one that I’ll shove together time and again for my own selfish wants and needs.

  “First place we find?”

  “Sounds good,” I say as the doors open and separate our reflections.

  “I bet you don’t do stuff like this,” he says as we get in. I know, as he stares intently at me, he’s trying to gauge my reactions and I don’t know why but it makes me blush.

  “Like what?” I ask, trying to feign ignorance.

  This time I push the button for the ground floor.

  “Like go somewhere you’ve never been

  with someone you hardly know.”

  “I can find out anything about you. All it takes is a trip to HR.” I try to ignore the heat of my cheeks because I’d already done that. I only peeked at his file but I figure since I was his boss, I wouldn’t get dragged to prison. It was during my little snooping session that I got ahold of his middle name. Mason. Are you kidding me? Maddox Mason Bailey. Did his parents try to pick the sexiest name ever?

  “Where’s the fun in that?” he asks, snapping me from my name lusting.

  Maddox is right. I’ve never done something like this. I am a bundle of unexplored possibilities, and I wanted to explore them tonight.

  I tug my ear lobe and his eyes follow the movement.

  “I like daisies,” he tells me. “You almost don’t know how beautiful they are until they bloom.”