Dante’s feet were up resting on the board of switches and buttons and lights in the producer’s room. The room was lit up with red LEDs, and a soft pink under lights from the floor. The room smelled of smoke as he snuffed out his smoke in the ash tray.

He had one of his dad’s tracks playing softly in the background, he knew Johnny was in his office down the hall.

A soft creaking of the floor was the only noise in the place. The space was a gutted refurbished warehouse, there were three recording rooms, and a large hangout space.