❝Sadist,❞ I accused. ❝You only brought me to New York so you could torture me.❞
❝Masochist.❞ Grinning, he pressed his forehead to mine. ❝You stay because you like it.❞ His charming green eyes promised me more. ❝Enjoy it; I want you to. When your m...
Finally, the time came to visit the one place in NYC Tyler and I hadn't christened.
Spin Recordz was a glass building on the east side, with flights on flights of blank tinted windows to reflect the early autumn sun. Inside the revolving doors, security greeted "Mr. Moore", searching our belongings before letting us through.
Tyler's label was the hall of music. Maybe museum's a better word. Or shrine. The entrance was a sweeping grand foyer, paved with inspirational portraits from the label's artists and plaques from those who had donated their awards. There were several pictures of Tyler. My path fell on a tall black-and-white of Tyler and A'keem, an iconic, crowd's eye view of the duo's performance.
"Wow.Tyler..." I turned in a slow circle. "This, is amazing." He was amazing.
"You haven't seen the best part. C'mon." He took my hand and we took the elevator, separating mid-kiss when the double doors opened and a double image stepped forward. Sandwhiched between a very famous pair of twins, I watched, wide-eyed, as one argued at her phone, the other arguing at her sister, both women too busy to notice the popstar struggling to contain his laughter behind them as his girlfriend had a fangirl moment in the form of a panic attack.
I was bent over, clutching my heart when the women left, one of the sister's doubling back, like she forgot something.
"Tyler, Aaliyah, call us. Let's do a thing."
She left, the doors closed, and that's when I realized I wasn't just 'Tyler's girlfriend' anymore.
People knew me.
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When Tyler opened the door to studio three, I discovered the reason he loved the label - and wished I knew how to sing.
The room was wider than it was long, the top half, the recording booth, separated from the back half, the production area, by a thick sheet of soundproof glass. The production area was sleek and professional, equipped with everything singers and producers could possibly need to make a hit record. But the booth - a sheer space of controlled calm, an open plain left to be transformed - that was where the magic happened.
"So-o-o-o?" Tyler flopped in one of the computer chairs, spinning towards me with his hands behind his head. "Whaddaya think?"
"I just wanna press all the buttons and slide all these slide-y thingies. And there's, like, popcorn and cappuccino machines in the hallway. And did you know there's a giant McDonald's touch screen menu in the lobby? You can order fries from work. How do you control yourself in a place like this?"
Tyler laughed. "Hansh and Josh will give you a special card and you can visit anytime you want, day or night. You'll get used to this place in no time."
"I'll never get used to it. Tyler, Spin is incredible. I see why it's so important for you to be here: you're reaching people, and, making music, and, you're doing what you love." Isn't that the point?
