For purplequesadilla
1974
You could practically feel the sun as it shone down on your head, making the color ten times lighter.
The smell of palm trees and ocean water practically surrounded you everywhere you went, making you really feel nostalgic.
It was nice to be back home, after you spent all the time up in cold New York. The change in weather going to Florida was definitely one of your favorite things about traveling so far.
But this time, you weren't just back in Gainesville, Florida for a visit, you were here to stay. It was where everything you once knew was, and you couldn't imagine starting a new career differently.
When you lived in New York, you worked for a record label, which sounds like a great job. And it would be if you only weren't the assistant.
Getting coffee every morning, and stapling papers was not the way you wanted to be involved in the music business. You were looking for something more. A way that you could control things and produce all you wanted. Starting a record label.
Which is why you quit.
You had rented an old building not too long ago, and were walking to it now, since it was only a couple blocks away from where you were staying, your childhood home.
Okay, so it didn't seem like the ideal situation, at least not yet. But you were making the best of it, and you were sure as hell going to make it better.
With only hard-work and determination, you knew that your own personal record label would be exactly where you wanted it. You could practically feel it.
You had a vision, and you certainly weren't going to let it go to waste.
With the small piece of paper telling you the address of the building in your hand, you came to a stop, realizing the building you were standing in front of was the place you were supposed to be.
It was a small, brown, brick, "house" is what you would call it. It only had a couple of windows, and it looked pretty much abandoned.
You were a bit worried to go in, just in case it had lots of rats, feces, and whatever other gross stuff that there was in the world.
But you had to start somewhere. And you guessed that this was it.
Heading up to the front porch, you opened the door, a dark, red one and what was revealed wasn't that bad.
Sure it was old, rustic, and dirty, but with a little fixing up, it would be just the way you envisioned.
You walked towards a small fireplace that had no wood whatsoever. Looking around, you were suddenly startled as someone started talking.
"Hello there," He chuckled, making you practically jump five feet in the air.
He was holding an acoustic guitar, and a notepad beside him from where he was sitting on the floor.
'Shoot,' you thought. 'Of course it's a homeless guy.'
"What are you doing here?" He asked you, seeming like you were invading his space.
"What are you doing here?" You threw the question back at him. "In this abandoned building?"
"I asked you first,"
You rolled your eyes, but answered all the same. "I bought this building," You told him truthfully. "I'm going to make my own record company. Your turn."
"I've come here ever since I was a teenager. It's where I write music and practice guitar," He said.
"But I guess not for much longer," He continued, making you laugh a bit.
"Hey," You said, grabbing his attention. "Maybe when I get all the renovation in the place done, and actually have a recording studio and all that, you can be my first client." You finished and the man smiled.
"Well, that sounds pretty great. But I 'oughtta know your name first."
"(Y/N)," You responded, walking over to the man's now held-out hand, waiting for you to shake it.
You took it as he spoke. "Tom. Tom Petty."
"Welcome to business with me, Tom Petty," You told him, releasing his hand, and smiling at him.
He returned the smile, and gave you a look that you could count on sticking around.
A/n: Part 2? Since this was so short, lol. -Liz :)