[Lamarr]

October 11th - 60 days until release

"Hollywood Cole!"

The speakers surrounding the studio were vibrating against almost everything settled in the room. Eyes were closed, heads were nodding and shaking in sync to the bassline while satisfaction was growing throughout us all. It wasn't even noon yet and somehow I managed to create this assembly of kicks, distorted ass 808 snares, and hi-hats running along a warped mix of 'Berta Berta' by none other than jazz composer Branford Marsalis.

Who knew that the combination paired with some of Ron's skills on the keyboard and a few mellow strings would even it all out and create one of my best productions thus far. I wasn't any Dr. Dre or Timbaland on the board, but I had enough confidence in myself to know I could kill a beat if need be. I just didn't think I could kill it this well though. 

Once I put the finishing touches on the piece, the first verse followed without much effort. My mind had been running on an unceasing line of ideas since I locked myself in this studio damn near three this morning, and it didn't seem like they were going to end anytime soon. I wasn't ready for them or myself to stop either. The creativity within me was going way too hard and spilling out from the speakers as proof for me to even think about stopping myself now. I'd be a fool to put a halt to the brilliance thriving in the room, which would be the death to a bunch of other classics I knew this album would retain.

"Damn nigga, how the hell did you come up with this?" Ib's voice managed to drag me out of the hard concentration I placed on my notebook and respond back with a simple shrug.

"I don't even know man, it just happened." I uttered coyly.

"Shit like this doesn't just happen, Cole." Mike started as a stale expression stayed fixed across his face. That was a badge of approval: a purse of the lips joined with a slight upward turn of the nose that almost gave the impression he was disgusted with whatever he had his eyes, or in this case ear on. "No one just sits in front of a beat machine and make some life changing shit like this. You gotta have a clever title for this track and the lyrics gotta be just as hard as the production, man."

I couldn't help but chuckle at the reactions I was beginning to witness and take in throughout the room. These two were the only ones vocal with how impressed they were, while Ced, Mez and Elite sat around damn near breaking their necks with bobbing as the beat continued to play. Sometimes silence said a lot more and in this case it said, 'Cole, this shit is retarded'.

"I got one section down then I have this little kicker for the hook. I just need to figure out what to place in between those two if anything, and what to do with the rest of the track."

"Well let us hear it when you're ready so we can see what you got. I swear if the shit is boo boo then you gotta ball it up and toss it, fam." Ib asserted like I would ever pen some shit that was far from top-tier with this mental space I was currently in.

"Aight but just remember these songs are in a sequence. I'm placing this one after St. Tropez since this is the point where I've crossed over into that arrogant and commercial Cole. After this I want to slowly inch toward the old Cole and the realizations I come to. I want to show some growth, well the mental growth that is. I feel like the conclusion of this all might take a bit longer for me to complete though."

For some reason I felt the need to throw a quick reminder out to everyone who was around to hear what I had compiled so far for this project. I took pride in how things were falling into place so far but I wondered was it resonating with others the same as it was for me. I wasn't trying to sell a dead dream or better yet album. I already did that in Columbia and Roc Nation's eyes but I needed at least one of these niggas to rock with me just as hard as I was for myself. They claimed they did when the label finalized my game plan yet the energy up to this moment, it seemed like it fizzled.

I literally created this beat, and during my breaks realized every song I already made was painting out a journey. The same journey Riley told me I should share with the world in a way to vent. Each story written out and spoken through each track was perfectly aligning with my life and giving nothing but that personal and almost uncomfortable point of view she advised me to convey. I was genuinely loving everything for what it was becoming, and though she warned me not to do it in order to please people, I still yearned for a bit more reassurance. Even if I didn't get it, 2014 Forest Hills Drive was naturally crafting itself into a masterpiece while I just gave it a gentle push to the finish line.

"Are y'all really understanding and fuckin' with what I want to do with this project? Be real."

"Yeah we got you, fam. I'm here for it because I trust you and this is your LP. Something about this era feels different than the others so I'm taking that as a sign that what you're stirring up will be magic." Ib assured as Mike nodded, agreeing with his statement.

"Thank you, man. Yo Mez, can you run that back for me?" With one switch on the board what I had dubbed G.O.M.D. was replaying and motivating me to keep the same scheme of ideas going for the course of the song. They were more like feelings I reserved to myself. Many thoughts that kept circling my conscious, drawing me to damn near madness and yet another bottle of Hennessy just two weeks ago. These were the same reflections on my life that gave me a wake up call aside from Riley of course.

In this moment Mel was heavily on my mind, but more so Riley's impact that still remained and influenced the many lines I wrote then revised on the lines of my pad for the second verse. Since that day she poured her heart out to me and that night we secured another part of our bond together, everything she disclosed began playing the role as reminders. Reminders that I couldn't double back into the steps that had only got me to a place of constantly hurting others and myself. They kept me focused on moving forward while my writing for every song on this album was amazingly becoming my diary, my seconds for meditation.

Maybe that's why I believed the ending of it would take a bit more time to develop, all because I was still developing. Even after it was finished, I would still be learning and maturing but hopefully I'd be better off than when I started. This new method was all new to me, but again with the way things were falling into place I was sure the result would produce something respectable.

"I think I got another kicker for that hook." I mumbled with my eyes still glued to my notebook. The lock to the studio door snapped back into its place, letting me know someone had either entered of left the room.

"What about the verses?" Ib shot back.

"I got that too. You'll hear it when I go inside the booth to record it, give me like twenty more minutes."

"No garbage, Cole." he added with a chuckle that was his way of rubbing salt on an open wound.

"Fuck off," I swear I hated Ib sometimes, he was a straight asshole, then again that was part of the reason we were friends. "Yo, who just left out?"

"Maybe if you looked up from that damn college ruled paper you'd know it was me who came in, sir." her voice alone was what snatched my full attention. 

Riley stood with her hand clasped to her hip as everyone else in the room eyed the two of us. We were all fully aware that having Riley around might call for some awkward moments, but I could tell just by her snide remark she was trying to make this experience as normal and nothing less than what we were all used to as possible.

"My fault, Riley. I just swore it was Mike's fat ass who silently left the room to search for some food."

"See, you were wrong," she said while removing her hand from her side, sliding into the large leather tote hanging from her other forearm. "I went to grab his fat ass some food before I got here. Which is why I'm late coming and he's still stretched across this couch."

"Nigga, that's why you were bugging her an hour ago? For some food?" The question and fact that Mike hadn't been busy doing anything but listening in on this session but was too lazy to get his own food was what had us all suddenly sharing laughter. This fool was something else.

"Yeah, I mean I was hungry and she was already out and on her way here. It just made more sense," he claimed harmlessly with wide eyes as Riley slapped a white bag from Gray's Papayas to his chest. "You got it with peppers and extra onions?"

"Yep, a hot dog with the shits on top. It's too early for that mess and for you to have gas." she scolded, giving him one of her typical glares that showed nothing but repulsion.

"But you still got it anyways. See this is why I love you. I bet you got a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in that big ass diaper bag of yours too, huh?" Ry couldn't hold her scrunched up face any longer and gave in with a laugh as they both enclosed each other into a hug.

"I actually do because I'd hate for you to run us all out of here and especially when folks have work to do. One day that mess is going to permanently disrupt your intestines, Mike."

"Then I'll just wait for that day." he murmured, bringing their hug to an end only to unpack the hot dog from all the wrapper made contraptions that sealed away the strong odor we all were about to dread. Ry shook her head dismissively, placing her bag down then began greeting everyone else in the room as she usually did.

It was cool seeing how she interacted with different personalities and how she would find a way to relate with each and every one. Ced was always under the influence of Mary Jane but somehow she still managed to connect with him solely off discussing producers and instruments. That was Ced's passion and Ry knew it, so she made sure she pushed him and his craft all while getting to know him a bit better.

Then there was Elite, probably one of the nicest and most quiet dudes I've ever met, but whenever he sees Ry his eyes light up. It's like he feeds off her positive spirit and just starts talking about everything under the sun. Riley was even beginning to get closer to Ib. They were both assholes when they wanted to be and jokes were always tossed back and forth between the two, but never the less I could tell he liked her. He saw that she was just an around the way girl, and the girl I felt so passionately about. When it came to any of the niggas in my circle Riley just found a way to bond with them all.

While she went around and held her short conversations, I continued to admire but discretely of course. I took in the change of color in her hair which always maintained a dark brown hue, but was now a shade brighter and highlighted with chestnut blonde streaks. Her face was even a bit more done than usual, wearing blush on her cheeks or she simply had a natural glow to her face now. I even admired the confidence that she exuded as she spoke. That was that same ol' display of holding her own in a room full of men that I couldn't do anything but respect. Ry was the perfect model for a woman in my eyes but she'd never know that.

"What is this playing, Lamarr? I heard it when I was walking down the hall and damn...that breakdown towards the end is insane!"

"Huh?" I muttered, pulling myself from the trance I had fallen in. "Oh, it's just something I put together this morning. You think so though?"

"Yes I do!" she blurted with a bright smile. "You got some lyrics I can hear, maybe? I want to know how they came about."

"Yeah...yeah let's go inside the booth and I can read them to you. I was about to record them in a few anyways." I admitted as I stood up with my pad while Riley opened up the case to her iPad that never left her hands since she'd come in. The two of us then trailed into the booth without much acknowledgment from everyone else, and sat down on the empty stools facing each other.

"You look different today." I stammered out as my eyes outlined almost every part of her being once again.

"How so? I'd like to think I look about the same." Her modesty; it had a smile slithering along my lips as I shook my head, tapping my pen against my notebook.

"Nah, you changed your hair color a little bit, right? Plus you just look a lot less stressed and I'm happy to see that."

"I did actually, didn't think anyone noticed." Ry breathed before tracing her tongue against her nude layered lips. "How are things with you? I feel like the last time we talked was when the four of us went to Queens." she asked, calmly tucking a few of her loose curls behind her ear. But something about those eyes told me another story.

"That was the last time we spoke, but I'm good though." I nodded. "Yo, Ry. I really want you to just breathe. This doesn't have to be something you wake up and dread every day, and we don't have to maneuver around each other like robots. I want this experience to be like old times between us, back when we were both twenty three, twenty four years old trying to figure out what was our next step as fake ass adults in the concrete jungle." A gentle chuckle fled her mouth as one followed from my own.

"Back when we were both broke and regretted spending those years in college just to have debt, yet a drive to achieve dreams that had nothing to do with our degrees."

"Not a damn thing!" I exaggerated as our chuckling died down. "It's crazy how we're both here though. We're both living out our dreams, and even though we didn't get to share most of it together we still have time to share this. Can we do that? Leave all the bullshit behind for these couple of months and just enjoy this for what it is?"

"We can." she said easily.

"Good. Let me recite G.O.M.D for you to the instrumental. You're the first one to hear it so feel lucky."

"See, just when I thought that cockiness had disappeared." she said sarcastically, as I tapped my knuckles against the glass window giving Mez the signal to restart the track.

"You know it takes time for me to reform myself Smurfette." I returned back slyly with a smirk. One thing I knew would be hard to do was contain the flirtation, maybe we could slowly convert our verbal love taps at each other into the friendly state it used to be; for my sake that is.

The mass of sounds from each machine shaped instrument fell in order, growling beyond the speakers as they did earlier and on key I knew exactly when I needed to come in with my first verse. After spitting it as hard as I could for the first time today, I then rambled over the not so finished chorus following up with the second verse I knew that might make Ry uncomfortable. Most of the words were penned with her on my mind while some could have be taken as if they were about Mel as they probably should've been. It all depended on if Ry interpreted it the way I had written it.

"Young nigga never had love. You know, foot massage, back rub shit. Blowing bubbles in the bathtub shit. That was until I met you. Together we done watch years go by, seen a river of your tears go by. Got me thinkin' bout some kids still I, tell them hoes come through. Get to know somebody and you really learn a lot about 'em. Won't be long before you start to doubt 'em. Tell yourself you better off without 'em, then in time you will find can't walk without 'em. Can't talk without 'em, can't breathe without 'em. Came here together, you can't leave without 'em. So you walk back in, make a scene about 'em. On your Amerie it's just one thing about 'em, it's called love. Niggas don't sing about it no more, don't nobody sing about it no more? No more...It's called lo-"

"Yo Cole!" Mike yelled through the microphone, cutting me and the track off as Riley and I both looked up at the sound of his voice. "You got a guest in here."

"Who the hell?" I questioned in a whisper to myself. Riley slowly rose from her stool as we both seemed utterly confused and flustered by the abrupt interruption. I was on a roll with the momentum I had behind the flow of my lyrics and Mike threw me completely off, but I couldn't tell why Ry was. Maybe she was lost deep in thought from what I had rapped. Little did she know that she would have to get used to that since most of my feelings toward her would now be subliminal in some of my rhymes.

"You uh, are you expecting more company?"

"Nah, not at all." From the spot I stood in within this single windowed room I couldn't see who had just come in and couldn't even imagine who it was either. No producers were scheduled to visit today and neither were Bas or the newest artist to Dreamville Cozz.

"Well I guess I'll just go check my phone while you greet your guest Mr. Get Off my Dick."

"Oh you liked the acronym I see."

"It was clever, I'll say that much." Ry cracked the door of the booth before quickly turning around, almost smacking dead into my chest. "I-I like what you were saying though. I could tell you meant every word and I know where they came from." She professed then pushed the rest of the door open leaving me behind as she eased her way out. "Someone actually listened to me."

Her mumbled remark was clear enough for me to hear and appreciate, and it kept me rooted in the same spot of the doorway soaking in her subtle acknowledgment of my first steps towards progression.

Not even seconds after finally walking out Ry was engulfed tightly within Omen's arms while I stood behind once again, and shocked he was even here. What was he doing here?

"Today is really one sent from the man upstairs. I'm getting work done, Ry and I are in a good space and this stranger ass nigga Omen comes to join us after what? Six years of ignoring us?" O released Riley from his grip then surprisingly walked over and gave me a small dap. "What up man?"

"You can thank Riley for me being here, she has a way of talking some sense into me. Oh and it's been a year bitch." We all had no choice but to break out in laughter because this moment was feeling like old times when we all hung together like brothers did. Blood or not, each one of these guys meant a lot to me and though I rarely showed it, Omen distancing himself constantly stayed on my mind. Even if he was here now, I still wondered why he wasn't every other day before. No 'beef', obligation to Ry or anything for that matter was deep enough to make you shutter at being in another person's presence; at least not for us it wasn't. One day I'd ask but right now I needed to let this moment be.

"You coming to let us hear some of that Elephant Eyes or are you gone keep being a weirdo and hide it from us?" Ib harassed from the spot he held at the soundboard. Omen shrugged and sat down beside Mike on the couch, preparing to gives us a long awaited answer.

"I can show you what I have so far, plus I think I might have something Lamarr would like to hear too."

"Damn Ry, what the hell did you say to this man? He's talking to us in full sentences and letting us hear his music? You put a root on him?" The questions were all jokes but I really wanted to know what she said to this man.

"That's for me to know and you to not worry about. He's here now so make sure he stays here." She unveiled, sitting on the arm of one of the numerous seats in the room. This one happened to be the one I sat in. While Omen began taking out his MacBook and plugging up the mini speakers he had submerged in his backpack, Ry leaned in closer to me. She even