I awoke the next morning and realized that I was on the couch in the living room. Eric's leg was draped over mine and he was passed out the opposite way.
I grinned to myself, "He's such a cute little dork..." I thought.
We had spent, literally, all of the night before discussing Eric's on-the-rise career. Being a singer had been Eric's dream since we first met, in freshman year of high school. It actually was mine as well, but only Eric had the balls to go for it.
Eric told me that he was going to go into the studio to start recording early the next month, depending on how successful he was finding good material. I kept thinking about the long talks we had in high school about becoming famous and living our dreams. I guess I always knew, deep down, that Eric's dream would come true. We would joke about singing together as a team, and even about all the famous men we would meet and hook up with. Innocent stuff, but stuff that would soon become reality.
After taking a shower and throwing on a pair of jeans and a gray knit turtleneck, I went downstairs to the kitchen. I started a pot of coffee and clicked on the radio. I heard a few soft grunts from the couch.
"Oh shit...Shelly?" Eric grumbled.
"Yep?" I called as I walked over to the windows to open the blinds.
"What time is it?" I glanced at the clock over the stove. "Almost 11."
"Fuck!" Eric jumped up from the couch. "What's wrong?" I asked.
"Why the fuck didn't you wake me up? Shit!"
"I didn't know I was supposed to," I said to Eric.
"Dammit, I must have forgotten to tell you with all the excitement. I'm supposed to meet with my agent and Mr. Martin at 11."
"Who's Mr. Martin?" I asked, pouring a cup of coffee.
"He's a song writer and producer that's interested in working with me on my album. You know... MAX Martin?" Eric pulled a pair of pants out of the laundry basket on the next to the coffee table and began to change.
"Holy shit!" I almost spilled my coffee. "THE Max Martin? The guy who writes with BSB and *Nsync?"
"YES! That's why I'll kill myself if I'm late for this meeting!"
He pulled on a light blue button down shirt, and began to button it as he headed for the door. "Shit... Shelly?" he stopped before he turned the doorknob.
"What do you want, boy?"
He had that puppy-dog face on.
"Could you drive me? It's in down-town and it'll take at least 15 minutes to catch a cab... please??"
I sighed and grabbed my purse, pushing him out the door.
"Thank you soooo much..."
"It's fine," I replied, closing the door to my loft behind us.
