Valerie’s mornings always began before the city rembered it was alive.
The car moved steadily through Manhattan traffic while she reviewed reports on her tablet. Revenue projections filled one screen. Artist performance trics occupied another. A quarterly expansion proposal sat unread in the corner because three separate departnt heads had sohow managed to create entirely new problems overnight.
None of that surprised her.
What surprised her was how often her thoughts drifted back to yesterday’s phone call.
Dayo had sounded normal, and that itself was the problem.
She had known him long enough to recognize the difference between normal and controlled.
Most people couldn’t. What most people heard was confidence.
Valerie heard pressure, and that’s a strange thing about Dayo: he trusted people completely and didn’t rely on them enough.
The thought ca naturally over the years she had watched him solve investor crises alone. Whether it was handling dia disasters alone, navigating artist scandals alone, or fighting expansion battles alone.
Every ti sothing threatened JD Records, his first instinct was to shoulder the burden himself before involving anyone else.
It always drove her insane, not because she doubted him.
Because she didn’t.
After all, the company wouldn’t exist without him; that was simply a fact.
What frustrated her was the assumption that responsibility belonged solely to him, which was frustrating because he could literally do anything when he set his mind to it. This was a mna man who took a four-year break and ca back not to sing but to compete in a swimming competition. Not only did he win, but he won the Olympic and one-all three gold, which hasn’t been done before in the history of swimming.
A mory surfaced unexpectedly.
Three years ago.
A distribution partner had nearly destroyed an international rollout; everyone had spent forty-eight hours panicking, from the Lawyers to managers, artists, Executives.
Then Dayo disappeared for two days.
Nobody knew where he went or what he did when he returned; but what they knew was that when he did, the contract issue was resolved. The rollout was saved.
The lawyers received a neatly organized folder explaining exactly how the solution had happened.
He never ntioned it again.
Valerie had wanted to throw sothing at him.
Not because he fixed it.
Because he never asked for help.
The car slowed at a red light.
New York was finally awake.
Coffee carts.
Office workers with their regular part of the usual rhythm. Her thoughts drifted toward the video she had seen weeks ago.
Jennifer laughing with Luna smiling while carrying her.
Dayo looking happier than she had ever seen him. That image lingered longer because, for years, she had wondered if he actually knew how to stop working; all he did was work, even when he took the four-year break from the music scene.
Then a child entered his life, and suddenly everyone discovered there was a human being underneath the well-oiled machine.
her though were interrupted as the driver pulled up to headquarters.
Valerie closed the tablet, and she smiled, rembering how she how back when she started the company, she drove herself in a beatdown car, and now she drove any car of her choosing, even with a driver. Dayo did a number in her life; she couldn’t deny that, and she is forever grateful.
Whatever this eting was about, sothing was bothering him.
She knew that much.
And she intended to find out what it was.
****
Ulrich hated mornings, but unfortunately, mornings seed to love him. His inbox already contained thirty-seven emails.
Three departnt disputes. Two budget requests. One scheduling disaster.
And an executive assistant who apparently believed urgency could be communicated through excessive punctuation. He stared at the screen.
Then deleted half the ssages without opening them.
Experience had taught him that most workplace ergencies weren’t ergencies. They were simply people discovering consequences of not dealing with issues at the right ti, and he knew exactly how to push past that.
His phone vibrated, and the screen lit up; the calendar reminder appeared.
eting with Dayo.
He leaned back, imdiately rembering that Dayo had called for a eting, but he knew one thing, and that was Dayo hated etings.
The man treated unnecessary gatherings like a personal insult. If everyone had been called in, sothing was wrong, like wrong wrong. He had never called a eting if not absolutely necessary.
That much was obvious.
His thoughts drifted backward.
The mory simply appeared.
UCL.
The firing and humiliation he faced for sothing he clearly knew nothing about but tried to fix, and he got burned for a cri he knew nothing about; he was the CEO and had brought that label from nothing to the top five label, and because one of his artists offended soone too high, "Michael," he was thrown under the bus as a sacrificial lamb.
The endless political nonsense. Years of work reduced to headlines and speculation.
He rembered leaving the building carrying a cardboard box. Rembered people suddenly avoiding eye contact, people who greeted him every day with respect, trying to get a favor from him.
He rembered realizing that professional loyalty had an expiration date the mont you lost your values and worth because, as the days passed, nobody called, nobody offered help.
Nobody wanted to be associated with him and avoided him like a plague.
Then Dayo’s email arrived, and he called. The conversation had lasted less than five minutes.
There had been no sympathy or motivational speech. Nor discussion about second chances.
Dayo had simply listened for a mont before saying: "If they’re dumb enough to fire you, I’ll hire you. When can you start?"
And that was it. No drama or ceremony.
Just certainty.
Ulrich laughed quietly at the mory.
Dayo was the only person he’d ever t who could accidentally save your life and forget he saved it.
The ridiculous part was that he genuinely didn’t understand the effect he had on people. He made decisions based on logic. The emotional consequences happened afterward.
Most of the ti, he never noticed.
Ulrich shut down his laptop.
The eting ant trouble. Of that he was certain.
But still he would show up.
He always did.
****
Music filled the studio.
Wayne adjusted a few levels on the mixing board while an unfinished track played through the speakers.
The bass felt wrong.
Not bad, just incomplete. He spent several minutes fixing it before leaning back.
Silence settled over the room; his phone sat beside him, the ssage from Dayo remained open.
Wayne smiled.
So things never changed, and it would surprise him if it did. Dayo disappeared. Weeks passed, months sotis. Then he ca back.
Life resud.
People complained about it. Wayne never really did. Maybe because he rembered the beginning. Back before anybody cared, back before JD Records had office floors and international artists and executives with titles.
Back when success felt impossible with all of the industry watching them to fail due to the pressure, he rembered sleeping in studios, borrowing equipnt.
Stretching budgets until they nearly snapped.
He rembered nights when both of them survived on coffee and stubbornness.
The younger version of Dayo had looked exhausted most of the ti, teaching him everything he knew about producing, which was why he never remained in the sa spot, as Dayo always pushed him to learn rather than hire a producer with higher skill, which made him work harder to prove Dayo made the right choice and looking back he was happy Dayo was by his side anyone else would have just discarded him.
Wayne laughed to himself.
People talked about Dayo’s intelligence constantly.
They talked about strategy.
Planning.
Vision.
None of those things impressed Wayne as much as persistence.
Most people quit eventually.
Dayo never seed to learn how. Failure annoyed him. It never stopped him, which was one of the things he learnt from him.
That difference changed everything.
Was he hurt by the distance?
Maybe a little. Anyone would be; he was human after all, but he had accepted sothing years ago, and that was Dayo always ca back. Not perfectly, but he ca back.
For Wayne, that was enough.
He grabbed his coffee, locked the studio. And headed toward headquarters. Whatever Dayo wanted, he’d hear him out.
****
Alice stared at the ssage longer than necessary.
She had already agreed to the eting.
Still.
The phone remained in her hand. The apartnt felt unusually quiet. Outside the window, the city moved through another ordinary morning.
Inside, her thoughts wandered sowhere less comfortable.
She t Dayo at his lowest point.
Not during the success. Not during the victories, but she t him during the destruction. Where the accusations had been everywhere; na it.
News outlets.
Social dia.
Industry gossip.
Everybody wanted a villain, which was how the narrative was being painted, and as usual, very few people wanted the truth.
Alice rembered watching the footage.
Again. And again in her office as she viewed the original footage, she knew that hands down Dayo could have won that competition without much stress cause he was the most talented there, but the situation of him going against Michael put him in a position where she was the only one that wanted to help after all no one want to offend Michael for a nobody.
When she released the original recordings, she already knew what would happen.
Her employer fired her.
Colleagues distanced themselves.
Friends advised her to apologize.
She refused.
Then her phone rang.
Dayo.
She expected gratitude.
Instead, he asked if she needed a job.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
The conversation lasted maybe ten minutes.
When it ended, she had employnt.
Looking back, that simplicity affected her more than any dramatic gesture could have.
He never treated her like a hero.
Never treated her like a victim. Never acted as though she owed him anything. He simply made room for her. The mory softened her expression.
Then another feeling appeared.
Smaller.
Less comfortable, maybe hurt. She rarely admitted it even to herself. She understood why Dayo disappeared. She understood the responsibilities.
The pressure.
The endless problems. Understanding didn’t make the absence easier. People always acted as though understanding and feeling were the sa thing.
They weren’t.
She could understand perfectly and still miss him.
Her thoughts drifted briefly toward Wendy.
Toward drinks.
Toward conversations that had seed harmless at the ti.
The mory passed without leaving much impression.
Just another evening.
Just another conversation.
Nothing important.
At least that’s what she believed.
Alice stood and grabbed her coat.
Whatever this eting was about, sothing had changed.
She could feel it.
And for the first ti in months, Dayo had called everyone together. That alone ant sothing. The executive floor was unusually quiet.
Valerie arrived first. She stepped out of the elevator and headed toward the conference room.
A few minutes later, another elevator opened. Urich erged carrying enough irritation to power a small city.
Valerie smirked. "Good morning."
"It would be if people stopped creating problems."
"You say that every morning."
"Because every morning I’m right."
They exchanged a brief laugh.
Another elevator chid.
Wayne appeared carrying coffee. His relaxed expression imdiately contrasted with Urich’s permanent state of professional frustration.
"You look too happy," Urich said.
"I slept."
"Show off."
The three settled into conversation.
Speculation began naturally.
Why were they here?
What did Dayo want?
Why call everyone?
Nobody had answers.
Then the final elevator opened.
Alice stepped out.
The mont she saw all three of them already gathered, she slowed slightly.
The sa realization crossed everyone’s face at nearly the sa mont.
This wasn’t a casual eting, nor was it a quick update. Every important pillar of JD Records had been called.
Valerie.
Urich.
Wayne.
Alice.
The people who helped build everything.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
The conference room doors remained closed.
Dayo wasn’t there yet.
Neither was Felix.
The waiting sohow made it worse.
Because now they all knew the sa thing.
Sothing important was about to happen.
None of them knew what.
And none of them realized that one careless conversation months ago had already started the chain reaction that brought them here.
User Comments
0 comments from readers