Page 14 of From Drummer to Gamer

I was growing an unhealthy soft spot for the boy.

But it couldn’t be helped. We shared a special bond.

Maybe because I saw a version of me in him.

“I’ll be here next week, okay?” I said to Luka, hugging him tight. It was getting harder and harder to say goodbye to the little fella every week.

“Okay,” he muttered, his face etched in a frown. “I can’t wait to see you.”

A sharp inhale lodged in my throat at the hopeful tone in his voice. “Me too, buddy,” I managed to say. “Now, go on before you get in trouble with Lucia.”

He nodded, giving me one last hug before he scurried inside the door Lucia held open.

After making sure he was safely inside, I gave a curt nod to Lucia before turning back.

Last week was the least productive week I’ve had in a while, and that made me restless and anxious.

I didn’t like it at all.

I liked getting things done. I liked being efficient with my time, not spending the entirety of it trying to find a name for the label.

I just didn’t get why it was so hard for me. But who was I kidding? This entire project was too far out of my comfort zone, and I had no clue what I was doing, well, except for the music aspect of it.

My sister thankfully put together a team that handled most of the logistics and admin so I could focus only on the music, but still, important decisions like naming the label fell on me.

And I was running out of fucking time.

I retraced my steps from last week, heading straight to the town hall.

Unlike last week, there wasn’t a crowd, and to my surprise, Raphael was there waiting for me in the same spot, crossed-legged as he leaned against the park fence.

I thought he would be a no-show, given how flippant he was.

“Hey, big man.” He looked up with a grin. “Thought you wouldn’t show.”

“Funny,” I deadpanned, “I thought the same.”

“Great minds think alike, eh?” He raised a cocky brow.

I shrugged. “So?” I asked, cutting straight to the chase. I didn’t want to waste my time if this boy was playing around. I had my team run a check on him, and he seemed legit—grew up in Iona his whole life, decent grades, and no record. That was well enough for me.

“Yeah, about that. I’ve made my decision,” he said, standing upright. The mirth in his eyes vanished, and a steadfast intent replaced it. Even his voice held a tone of seriousness.

Guess the boy had another side to him.

I remained unfazed, though, because I knew someone exactly like that.

“I want in.” He stared straight at me. “But I don’t trust you, not yet at least. You can’t expect me to when you show up out of the blue and say you want to make me famous.”

“I agree, and you shouldn’t,” I said. “There are people in the industry who will drop you like a hot potato the moment they’re done or drain the life out of you till you have nothing left. I know because I’ve been there. But I’m not going to do that. I have no use for doing that. The whole point of me starting this label is to redefine the industry standards of how music should be and make the raw, real talents shine rather than fund another marketable artist.”

He listened without blinking.

“You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll have my team draw up a contract, and you can look over it with your lawyer and family. Your rights and time will be respected, the signing bonus will be a million dollars, and you get to keep 50 percent of whatever you make. My cut will just go back to the label to fund other artists when we sign them. You can walk out anytime. I won’t force anything on you. I’ll also give you full creative control. I want to create with you, not for you. What do you say?”

He looked pensive as he thought for a second before nodding slowly. “Yes,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’d say yes.”

“Good.” I gave his hand a firm shake. “You’ll have the contract delivered tomorrow. I want to start right away. I want you in New York at least five times a week. You’ll be assigned a manager who will take care of everything for you.”