No traffic.
No paparazzi shouting my name.
Just birds outside and the hum of the refrigerator.
It should feel peaceful.
It almost does.
Until my phone buzzes.
I glance down.
My producer.
Again.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“What is it?” Nate asks from where he’s leaning against the counter, nursing a beer like he owns the place.
He’s been dropping in on me, and I have to admit, I like hanging out with the bastard.
I swipe to answer.
“Yeah.”
There’s no greeting on the other end. Just urgency.
“David, this is big. Major League Rugby wants you to produce the official theme for this year’s Championship Cup.”
Silence.
Even the quiet in the house feels louder now.
“Send me the details,” I say, already knowing I’m not going to ignore this.
When I hang up, Nate’s staring at me.
“Well?”
“I’ve been offered the opportunity to come up with a theme song for this year’s Major League Rugby Championship Cup.”
Nate straightens.
“Shit. Really?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s fucking cool.”
He’s not wrong.
It is cool.
National stage.
Stadium energy.