I’ll Wait For You

The flare of arousal both excited and shamed her. She quietly berated herself, even as Kostya launched into a speech of welcome.

No. You’re here to start a new life. Not flirt and lust after someone who is so far out of your reach, you may as well be trying to grab the sun. Her brain flitted further, wondering if she could use that kind of material in a song, before she snapped her attention to Kostya in the real world, rather than the fantasy hive her brain conjured.

“I hope you’re as excited to be able to work with us as we are thrilled to work with you. When you’re in this studio, not that many rules apply, aside from the obvious, which I’ll list with you now.”

He began ticking them off. “Try not to damage anything in the place. That’s a given.”

A drop of sweat formed on Elinor’s temple at this. If she broke something, she was dead.

“Treat everyone here in a manner that is respectful. Of course, if people enjoy jokes, then that is allowed. Do not distribute any of your new lyrics to anyone else, and keep them locked in the drawer here.” He gave her a key, and twisted it in what resembled more a bomb-proof safe than a drawer. “I have one set of keys, and you will have the other. Do not lose them. The non-disclosure rules are stated in the contract as well, which you can re-read later, as I see you skimmed most of it. Do not approach the media about this at any point, you will be fired. If you are approached, inform me first, in case we can use it for positive purposes.”

He sensed Elinor was feeling overwhelmed by all this daunting information, and pressed on, “Hours are irregular as you will be allowed creative freedom, though there will be deadlines. You may sleep here whenever you want. You can even move in completely for the duration of your career here. And you will answer to me at all times. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.” Elinor had still fixated on the idea that she shouldn’t break anything. She was already wondering if she could just write at home instead, then come here to drop off any songs written. However, it also seemed a shame to dismiss working in such a glorious place, simply because she was afraid of damaging something that she wouldn’t be able to afford in her lifetime.

“What are my wages, as well?” She asked, not recalling seeing a price in the contract.

“They’re flexible, but as long as you’re on call, you’ll be paid six thousand a month to be on call.”

Elinor tried hard to swallow her shock. “Six thousand?”

“Yes. And if we like you, the wage will increase as well.”

She wanted nothing else but to start hyperventilating at this point. Six. Thousand. Dollars. A month. That was basically five months wages at the Café, with her working full time. Every month.

Holy sh*t. I’m being given a job to write and I’m being given more money than what I think I can deal with? I need to pinch myself right now, and make sure I’m not somehow sleeping. Because this is insane.

“I assure you. You don’t need to look quite so alarmed. I’m sure you will be responsible and a true asset to our team.” A glint of something entered his eyes, an emotion Elinor couldn’t pinpoint. However, it sent an uneasy chill up her spine.

The man with the tattoos might strike an amiable expression and a calm demeanor, but something else lurked there under the surface. Something that Elinor wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to know, even though she found him physically attractive. He pleased her visually, the timbre of his voice had something mesmerizing in its low-toned quality, and the exotic attraction of his name made her think of distant places. She wondered what a place like Bulgaria looked like, if the people there all wielded the same strange eye color as Kostya, or whether he happened to be unique on that matter.

She also wondered what went through his thoughts as well.

“I think I’ll be okay. I’m just a little amazed at how wonderful this place appears. I never would have expected to see all this just by looking at the building from the outside. It’s a, uh, inspiring environment.” She checked out the potted plants and flowers in the office space that would be her writing den. “The plants add a freshness to the air, the trickle of water in the background from that, uh, magnificent fountain is soothing. It’s really great to see all this.”

“That’s the point,” Kostya said, tapping his pen closer to Elinor’s outstretched hand. “Creativity comes easier when an individual is not stressed out, and is mellowed under the beauty of the environment presented. It is why you often hear of writers who retreat to lodges in idyllic countryside. It is for the air, the peace, the quiet. To allow you to unfetter your thoughts and have them roll out, to be shaped in something marvelous and beautiful.” He lightly brushed the pen over Elinor’s knuckles, and she watched the movement in fascination, as it tickled the sensitive skin.

“The glass is sound-proofed, so the drone of traffic does not interrupt your thoughts. This room is sound proofed as well, in case you wish to bar yourself from anyone else who might be here as well, though it will likely be just the visiting band members, when they come here to brainstorm and practice. The contract gives you full lease on this place for you to do as you wish, and within reason. We can change the pictures on the walls for you as well, if you do not like the quality of them.” He nodded towards the picture of a setting sun in her plant based office, with warm hues of red, orange and yellow contrasting over black, brown and green. Other images depicted scenes out of nature, such as waterfalls, autumn forests with multi-colored leaves, footprints sunk into snow-lashed ground, and a vibrant sandy beach.

“I like the pictures,” Elinor said, after studying them a long moment.

“Good.” He smiled briefly. “I selected them personally. Anyway. I believe we should go and introduce you to the people you’ll be writing songs for. It is likely you’ll be asked as well to come up with a test song for the group within a short space of time, though you may enjoy the task. I hope you will all be able to get along.”

Elinor nodded, butterflies flapping in her stomach again – partially from the way Kostya’s haunting eyes pierced the veil over her face, as if he could see all the gooey, delicate matter inside her, and partly because she desperately didn’t want to fail.

“Let’s go see them.”

Kostya stopped tapping his pen, stood up, and she followed him to the recreation room, ready to be introduced to the rest of the people who would help shape her new life.