A Demo

Déjà vu gave Ryan more than just the music itself. It also gave him other information: Tremor's song title, the single's cover art, the names of its two credited writers, and a music video made up of a series of scenes. The cover bore the Spinnin' Records logo, clearly identifying the label releasing the single.

The video was edited together from two kinds of footage. One was rather ordinary: it showed a beautiful model in a skin-tight black bodysuit. Those scenes didn't convey much beyond simply showing off the model.

The other part consisted of a series of live concert clips. Apart from close-ups of the DJs, every shot showed tens of thousands of people in the crowd, cheering and leaping along to the music. Their faces were lit up with ecstatic smiles as men and women alike swayed to the beat, like they were at one enormous party.

In one overhead shot, a massive stage that looked like a fairytale castle was surrounded by a sea of people. Even the most conservative estimate put the crowd at over a hundred thousand. And this wasn't the only stage—more than a dozen different ones appeared throughout the video. Three DJs showed their faces in total: a duo, plus a solo DJ. That matched the names credited as the song's writers in Ryan's memory.

Clearly, these were scenes from the dance music artists' tour. Could DJs become the kind of stars that pop idols were in the near future? Still buzzing with excitement, Ryan began to analyze what he'd seen.

He figured that even Taylor Swift, the CMA's Best New Artist that afternoon, couldn't draw a crowd like that at the moment.

You mocked my talent today. Tomorrow, I'll leave you speechless!

·

With a bang, Ryan shut the door behind him and returned to Aunt Trey's house.

The table by the entrance held odds and ends, including a vase for keys and a photograph of Trey with a little girl. Trey looked younger in the picture, and the girl could have been her twin, about twelve or thirteen years old.

That was Trey's daughter. If she hadn't died in an accident, she'd be about Ryan's age now.

Ever since her daughter's death, Trey had lived alone, until Ryan moved in a while ago.

Just then, clattering and cursing came from the kitchen. It was clear she was struggling with the supermarket's ready-made meat patties and frozen vegetables again.

She could coordinate a crew of dozens to shoot a music video in a single day, yet she was always helpless in the kitchen. As he'd done before, Ryan put on an apron and hurried inside...

"Ryan, you're getting better and better at cooking!" Trey said, scraping up the last of the sauce. She raised her wineglass and drained it.

"All the paperwork's done. You can register at school next Monday." After telling him, Trey asked where he'd gone that afternoon.

Ryan kept his bargain with Taylor and didn't reveal where he'd really been. Then he quietly cleared the table, washed the dishes, and wiped everything down by himself. During the time he'd stayed at Trey's, it was less that she'd looked after him than that he'd looked after her.

When he was done, Ryan went to Trey's study and turned on the computer. The Vista desktop was almost completely covered with files: music video scripts, storyboards, half-finished editing projects, and behind-the-scenes footage.

He ignored them and opened the browser, searching for the two songwriters. But neither the duo called "Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike" nor Martin Garrix left any trace on the internet.

The original Ryan had taught himself music theory and could write country songs, but he'd never learned anything about electronic music. Fortunately, YouTube had some videos that could help him get up to speed. After spending about two hours learning the basics, he followed a video's instructions to download and install the software, then tried opening a DAW called Ableton Live.

Before he could even get into the program, a huge purchase prompt popped up. The options ranged from the basic Intro version, at several dozen dollars a month, to the Standard version, at several hundred dollars a month, and finally the most expensive Suite version. The feature restrictions and professional jargon were too much for Ryan to make sense of in such a short time.

With no other choice, Ryan took Trey's bank card from the drawer and paid for the most expensive Suite version.

But Ryan soon regretted it. The "complete" software had even more features than he'd imagined. The dazzling array of buttons and controls left him overwhelmed, so he followed the tutorials and started learning the basics step by step: creating a project, adding tracks, and changing instruments.

Time passed second by second. Ryan was frowning in concentration as he worked, and didn't hear footsteps approaching.

"It's so late. Why aren't you asleep?" Trey asked, yawning as she pushed open the door.

He had only a moment to react, but that was enough for Ryan to save his work, close the program, and switch to the pre-university study website he'd left open, among other things.

Why had that come so naturally? Ryan wondered.

Trey saw Ryan earnestly studying for his exams, then glanced up at the clock. When she realized it was already the middle of the night, a strange smile crept across her face.

"Don't overdo it. You're young, but you still need to watch your figure," Trey said with a smile.

What are you talking about? You're nuts!

Ryan gave her a tight smile as he watched Trey leave in her one-piece pajamas. His eyes followed her curvy figure, and he couldn't help comparing her to Taylor that afternoon.

After Trey left, Ryan tried to recreate the electronic music in his head on the computer. But the software itself had a learning curve, and he couldn't reproduce some of the sounds, such as the ones in the climax. After struggling all night, he had only managed to make a demo under half a minute long. When he played it back, he felt it was only about halfway accurate.

To get decent results in a short time, he needed guidance from a professional. But Ryan didn't even know where to find one.

Then he remembered his arrangement with Taylor for the next day, and an idea occurred to him...

·

The next day, outside Blackbird Studio.

As promised, Taylor handed Ryan a plastic bag. Along with a thick wad of green bills, it contained a USB drive.

"This money's your pay for all that 'hard work' yesterday. You're worth that much, anyway." Taylor gave him another seemingly sweet smile, just like the one she wore for the cameras. In reality, she was mocking him.

"And the USB drive has a demo on it called Fucking Afternoon. You could translate the title more elegantly as Hot Afternoon. No need to thank me; it's an extra."

Ryan's eyebrow twitched. He'd never expected her to actually write a song just because he'd said something offhand. He didn't know whether to call her a gifted songwriter or say she had a strange imagination.

"I've got an extra for you, too." Ryan opened his palm. It held a USB drive of his own, with the demo he'd made the night before.

"You really wrote a song?" Taylor furrowed her brow.

"It's a different song. I want your producer to listen to it," Ryan said, making a new request.

Other than Trey, her producer was the only person in the business he could think of.

"Introduce you to my producer? Don't be ridiculous." Meimei immediately shook her head, assuming Ryan still wasn't ready to give up on his song and was trying to use her to get in touch with her producer. She flatly refused.

"I just want him to listen to it. That's all. It's no trouble for you, and it might change someone's life," Ryan said with utmost sincerity.

Just to get Ryan off her back, Taylor took the USB drive and verbally promised she'd give it to her producer.

"I have to come in with you," Ryan said, looking uneasy.

Taylor was starting to lose her temper. "I have to remind you that you and I—"

She stopped halfway through when she noticed Ryan's bloodshot eyes. He'd clearly been up all night.

Then she realized he'd probably spent the whole night working on the demo.

Taylor couldn't help thinking of herself. She might have a thing for flirting, but when it came to music, she took it extremely seriously. She'd stayed up all night writing more than once.

At the thought, Taylor softened a little.

Fine...

Taylor glanced around, then leaned toward Ryan and said quietly, "Come in with me. Once it's played, you leave. Let me say it again—"

"This is the last time," Ryan interjected.