At No Time || Bruno Mars

9

The middle of November still delivered a foreign warmth against Trystan's back. Her Adidas tennis shoes beat against the gravel of the empty road as she jogged about the hidden countryside. Bella trotted along beside her, surprisingly keeping up with Trystan's pace gleefully. Though Trystan had to halt her exercise to accommodate the little piglet's incessant need to nip at grasshoppers in the roadside grass, Bella gave her little problems. If Trystan were to get the animal's energy out now, a bath and a warm bottle of milk would surely put her out until the evening. "Come on, Bella." Trystan tugged at the leash clipped onto the pig's collar, and she sided Trystan's leg obediently.

Trystan felt unapologetically blithe since the day they'd finally gotten Elle Marie, the singer of their composition, into the studio. To all of their surprise, the songstress with the less-than-admirable vocals had blown them all away when she cantillated the ballad style of the song rather than its original pop-inspired beat. If Peter's arrangement hadn't been the binding factor, Elle's voice certainly had been.

"Told you so," Trystan had whispered to Peter when Elle belted a note on the tenth chord, executing the transition beautifully. Whether or not Peter realized Trystan had also been referring to his composition in all was unbeknownst to her, but there was no confusing the smile she saw on Peter's face when he told the artist, "And that's a take."

That's what Trystan did it for—the breath of relief and satisfaction when songs came alive. Production and songwriting was Trystan's expertise, and there was no greater feeling than seeing that skill crossover through artist who could expand her creations. That made it worth every frustration.

Trystan smiled as she approached her temporary home. Bella scampered inside once she opened the door, surely hungry from the run. Knowing exactly where her bottles of milk were, she oinked at the refrigerator. "Nope. Bath first." Trystan scooped the piglet into her arm, much to the animal's divergence. She squealed and squealed until Trystan placed her in a tin tub full of lukewarm water and lavender oil. Bella instantly quieted, soothed by the bath.

Trystan left the little pig playing around in the water and went back to the kitchen to prepare a post-exercise snack.

"You were a nightmare that turned into a fantasy. Now I can't bare not seeing you in my dreams," Trystan sang softly Elle Marie's song as she chopped a variety of fruits on a cutting board. "They say love can turn smart girls into fools. That must be right, because suddenly I was falling for you."

The trill of her cell phone halted her from continuing into the pre-chorus of the song. She surveyed the lock screen and saw that it was her boss, Mr. Stevens."

"Hey, Steve!" she answered by his preferred appellation. "What's up?"

"What's up with you? You barely contact me for two weeks and then I get a call from Lance saying you might have a hit record on your hands?" Trystan knew the elder wasn't truly upset with her. His jovial nature was one of the reasons everyone at Espresso loved him so much. 

She giggled, "I'm sorry. I just got really caught up in the studio, but Lance tells you, right; I think we all came up with a number one. Fingers crossed, of course."

"Well, keep those fingers crossed, because I've got some news for you."

"Good or bad?"

"One could be great, and the other has potential."

"So good?"

"Maybe. Are you available to Skype? I'm with Lance right now in PA going over some business endeavors and we'd both like to speak with you."

Trystan's stomach instantly turned to knots, and she wished she had a pen to click. She couldn't help but to get nervous before any type of meeting. Sometimes she wished she could tell the future, just to know what to expect.