𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁࿐ ྂ ᴊᴇꜰꜰ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ꜱɪx

"GOING TO SEE THIS KID PLAY AT THIS TINY PLACE- SIN-È."

Polly looked up, seeing one of the A&R executives, Steve. His office was close to hers, and he had never talked down to her as many men of the office had.

"Jeff Buckley?" She asked, knowing Jeff would find a kick out of her showing up with an A&R person.

"You know him?"

"I've seen him around."

"Well come on," Steve had a youthful smile, despite his head of graying hair. "Tim Buckleys son, crazy." He told her, shaking his head in disbelief.

He called them both a taxi, as they talked about work and Jeff. Apparently, Steve had seen him at St. Anns, right when every A&R person went crazy to sign him.

As usual, the small coffee shop was packed, Jeff tuning his guitar, but as always dropping everything to greet Polly. He wrapped his arm around her, refraining from kissing her when he saw the formal-looking man by her side.

"Steve Berkowitz, Columbia Records." he stuck out his hand to shake.

"Jeff," he nodded, shaking his hand in a loose grasp. Steve found a spot near the front, leaving Polly and Jeff. "I'm gonna sign with him." He said, matter of factly.

Polly did a double take, "shut up."

"No, I like him." Jeff paused. "And he's at Columbia... with you."

Polly shook her head, though tried to conceal her smile. "You're not signing with him because of me."

"You're just a plus. Steve though- he's the real deal y'know." Jeff said, over-enthusiastic.

She laughed along with him, "I do like him."

"See, real deal." He repeated, Polly giving him a kiss on the cheek before he hurriedly went to the front of the room once more.

She joined Steve at the small table he sat at. "You've seen him around, huh." He said, looking at Polly with a cheeky, almost fatherly smile.

Polly shrugged as Jeff began to speak. "I still don't know why you all crowd in here." He started, earning a few cheers and whistles. He continually surprised people with how soft and sweet his speaking voice was, compared to his singing voice. Which could be both those things as well, but Jeff was also blessed with a range that allowed him to reach places furthest from soft, or sweet.

The performance Steve witnessed was different than the first time he'd seen Jeff perform. He was no longer limited to specific songs, he had all the freedom in the world to sing whatever his heart wanted. Everything from punk to qawwali.

He was speechless, to say the least. I have to sign him, is what repeated through his mind over and over again.

༻✦༺

AND HE DID.

A month later, Jeff signed with Columbia, in an office right down the hall from Pollys. On his way out along with Steve and a couple of other executives, he threw a balled-up piece of paper into Polly's room, glancing at her with excitement in his eye.

She had smoothed out the paper, her eyes glassy with happiness. In Jeff's messy all-caps writing it read-

Three albums, about a million dollars. I think, maybe.
I love you

A few minutes later, her phone rang. Almost immediately when she picked it up, Jeff's voice rang out into her ear from a payphone down the street.

"It all worked out." He said, and Polly was quiet. "It was all worth it."

He was doing what he wanted, not subjected to one genre or a team of writers, with no unattainable deadlines. He was working for the music, not a company.

He was still the long-haired, almost punk, sticky-handed little kid on his bedroom floor with the tacky old record player and warped vinyl. The only difference was his million-dollar deal, which young Jeff would've laughed at.

All he wanted was for another strange, almost punk kid to come along and find his record, possibly all three he was promised, and play it till it broke. Till the needle of their record player needed replacing, till their parents yelled at them to turn it off.

That thought kept him up at night, smiling towards the ceiling. His music could be the music that reached people, as his favorite songs reached him. That was his goal, for people to not only hear it, but really, truly listen to it.

And now, Jeffs goal was going to happen. Eventually. There was still a lot to figure out.

For the first time in a very long time, he wondered what Tim would've thought. Would he be proud of his estranged son? Would he warn him to not go down the same path?

But, thinking about it more, the path he was on was his own, uniquely his. He would never be free from comparisons to Tim Buckley, but at least nobody could ever say that their music was the same.

Jeff was going to make a record, and the record would be different from any other thing he'd ever listened to. It would be happy, it would be grunge-like, sad, completely daring.

It would be everything, but in whole, it would be completely his.

༻✦༺

a/n
hi you guys are crazy 9k???
&& sorry for short chapter, I've been so busy!! thank you for reading !

also, i need ur opinion again. so, i thought I had my mind made up for 1997, but now I'm not sure so pls lmk if you want me to continue the story past then??? it's honestly what I want to do but I'm not sure if that's wierd or not 😭😭