Chapter 451: CH : 440 You’re Always Thinking

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Marvin looked around the room. Jessica was still holding her ice cream. Lindsay was talking to Dorothy. Dorothy looked like she had just discovered a new possibility. Beyoncé was watching all three of them with an amused smile.

He shook his head. "You ladies seem to have too much energy."

Jessica grinned. "You’re just old."

Marvin stared at her. "I’m thirteen."

"Exactly." Lindsay burst out laughing.

Beyoncé covered her mouth. Dorothy giggled.

Marvin pointed at Jessica. "Careful."

"Or what?"

"I’m taking your ice cream."

Jessica immediately pulled the cup against her chest. "No."

"Then behave."

"You’re mean."

"You started it."

Beyoncé stepped between them, still laughing. "Okay, enough."

She looked at Marvin. "You said we were recording."

"We are."

"Then come on."

Marvin nodded toward the booth. "Let’s go."

Beyoncé set her ice cream down and followed him.

Jessica watched them disappear toward the vocal booth. "Wow."

Lindsay glanced at her. "What?"

"She gets to sing with Marvin."

Lindsay smiled. "Maybe we’ll get our chance."

Dorothy looked toward the microphone. "I hope I get mine."

Jessica glanced at her. "Then you’d better start practicing."

Dorothy nodded seriously. "I will."

Inside the booth, Beyoncé put on her headphones.

Marvin closed the door behind them.

The booth had gone quiet again.

Not truly silent. There was always something in a recording studio—the faint hum of equipment, the air conditioning, the occasional movement on the other side of the glass. But inside the booth, everything outside seemed far away.

Beyoncé let the headphones rest around her neck and looked through the glass at Max, who had settled behind the console with the ease of someone returning to a place he understood.

Marvin watched her for a moment.

*The Writing’s on the Wall* had been out for two weeks.

Already, the album was behaving differently from the usual release. There had been no huge opening followed by a drop. The numbers kept climbing instead. Radio stations were adding the songs. People were requesting them. Everywhere Destiny’s Child went, somebody seemed to know the words.

Four girls. And one of them was standing in his booth.

Nineteen years old. The world hadn’t even heard everything that voice could do yet.

Marvin knew more than she did. He knew the four wouldn’t stay four for much longer.

LeToya had already started asking questions. Not vague questions, either. Questions about money. About contracts. About where the group’s earnings were actually going.

LaTavia had started asking them too. That was going to become a problem.

Mathew Knowles didn’t like being questioned, particularly when the questions came from two members of his daughter’s group.

Beyoncé was caught in the middle of it. So was Kelly.

Neither of them could see the shape of what was coming. From the outside, Destiny’s Child still looked solid. The songs were getting bigger. The crowds were getting bigger. Nothing about their public image suggested that the foundation underneath them had started to crack.

Marvin knew better. He also knew what would happen once the cracks became visible.

The press would pick a side. Someone would be blamed. Someone would become the face of the breakup, and Marvin knew exactly how cruel that process could become. The truth rarely mattered once a story had found the version people wanted to believe.

And Beyoncé would be standing at the center of it. He wasn’t going to let that happen to his girl.

The thought came without much warning.

He didn’t have a carefully constructed plan for it. He simply knew.

Not her.

Marvin looked at her again.

She held herself differently when she sang. There was confidence there, but it wasn’t the loud kind. She didn’t need to prove she belonged in the room. Give her a microphone and she simply seemed to understand what to do with it.

He had noticed that a long time ago. Long enough that he’d already started thinking about what came after Destiny’s Child.

A solo career. He hadn’t said anything to her.

There was no reason to. Not yet.

She didn’t need to hear that her group was going to fall apart while it was still climbing. She didn’t need to spend the next few years looking over her shoulder, wondering which friendship would be the next one to break.

But Marvin could prepare.

And he had. That was part of why she was here. The collaboration itself had been surprisingly easy to arrange.

He’d mentioned it to Tommy during another conversation, one that had started with Columbia’s concerns about the album and somehow wandered into distribution. Tommy had immediately understood the value.

Beyoncé on Marvin’s album. For Tommy, it solved several problems at once.

It gave Columbia another major name attached to the record, gave Destiny’s Child exposure to Marvin’s enormous audience, and gave everyone involved something they could sell without having to pretend it was anything other than what it was.

A good collaboration. Tommy had practically lit up when Marvin suggested it.

There was another reason for that enthusiasm, one neither of them needed to say aloud.

Marvin was leaving Columbia.

They both knew it. They were simply professional enough not to turn it into a conversation before they had to. Until then, anything Columbia could attach to Marvin’s catalog was worth more than the immediate sales.

A Beyoncé feature was one of those things.

It put her name beside his. It put Columbia’s name beside both of them. Years later, the association would still be there in the credits, long after Marvin had gone his own way.

Tommy could see the value in that.

He had other things on his mind, too.

Mariah was gone. Jennifer Lopez was the new bet he was trying to make work, and not everyone above him at Columbia was convinced it was the right one. Another strong R&B voice in the company’s orbit certainly wasn’t going to hurt.

Mathew Knowles saw an opportunity of his own.

For Beyoncé, a feature on a Marvin Meyers record wasn’t just another credit.

Not in 1999.

Marvin was already too big.

The album would be heard by people Destiny’s Child hadn’t reached yet. The song would exist outside the group’s catalog, outside their current promotional cycle, and Beyoncé’s name would be attached to it.

Mathew understood what that could mean.

Even if Destiny’s Child stayed together. Even if the problems inside the group disappeared and the four girls made records together for years.

Beyoncé would still have this. Something that belonged to her.

Marvin had understood the same thing before he’d even made the offer. He just hadn’t told Mathew why he’d cared so much.

The song mattered. The Columbia connection mattered.

But neither was the real reason.

Marvin wanted Beyoncé close.

Because when the time came for her to step out on her own, he didn’t want her looking for somewhere to begin.

He wanted his girl to already be standing beside him.

And if everything went the way Marvin intended, the career waiting for her would be far bigger—and far smoother—than anything Jay-Z could ever imagine for her.

"Mr. Had enough admiring me?" Beyoncé asked, nudging his shoulder with hers.

Marvin smiled, turning his eyes back to her. "Not even close."

She laughed softly. "You’ve been staring at me forever."

"I know."

"And?"

"And I still haven’t found anything I’d rather look at."

Beyoncé shook her head, trying to hide her smile. "You’re something else."

Marvin’s smile deepened. "Only with you."

She laughed under her breath. "See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about."

"What?"

"That." She pointed at him. "You say things like that with a straight face, and somehow you expect girls to believe you’re not trying to make them blush."

"I wasn’t aware that was a problem."

"It is when you know it works."

"I do know."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile stayed.

They had fallen into that rhythm so easily that neither of them seemed to notice when the teasing stopped being an excuse to talk and simply became the way they talked to each other.

Beyoncé studied him for a moment. "You’re quiet."

"I’m thinking."

"You’re always thinking."

"It’s a bad habit."

"No." She shook her head. "It’s a you habit."

Marvin smiled. "That’s better."

"About the song?"

"Among other things."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Other things?"

"Mm-hmm."

She waited.

Marvin said nothing.

Beyoncé folded her arms. "You’re doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Thinking something and deciding I’m not allowed to know."

"I never said you weren’t allowed."

"You don’t have to."

He laughed softly.

She knew him well. That was the dangerous part.

Beyoncé had seen enough of him away from everyone else to notice the quieter pieces. The moments when he stopped performing for the room. The way he listened when she talked about something that mattered to her. The way he remembered little things she had mentioned weeks earlier without making a show of remembering them.

She had started noticing him long before she admitted she was noticing him.

"What?" she asked again.

Marvin looked at her. "You."

The answer caught her off guard. "Me?"

"Your career. What happens next."

Beyoncé’s expression softened, though she tried to hide it with a small shrug. "That’s my dad’s job."

"I know."

"And yours?"

"Mine’s different."

"How?"

Marvin leaned back against the console. "Your dad is trying to build a career for you."

"And you’re not?"

"I am."

She waited. "But I’m trying to make sure you don’t lose yourself while you build it."

That quieted her.

Beyoncé looked down at the floor, then back at him. "You always make everything sound so serious."

"Not everything."

"No?"

"No."

"What’s not serious?"

"You."

She smiled despite herself. "That’s supposed to make me feel better?"

"It was meant as a compliment."

"Didn’t sound like one."

"Then I’ll try again."

She looked at him expectantly.

"I like you when you’re not trying to be anything."

The smile disappeared from her face for a second.

Not because she disliked hearing it.

Because she liked hearing it too much. "Marvin..."

"What?"

"You can’t just say stuff like that."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That’s not an answer."

She gave him an annoyed look. "You know exactly what I mean."

"I probably do."

"Then stop making me say it."

He smiled. "Okay."

She watched him for another moment. "You’re not going to stop, are you?"

"Probably not."

"See?"

He laughed.

Beyoncé shook her head, but she was smiling again.

For a few seconds neither of them spoke.

The studio hummed quietly around them. Equipment lights blinked across the console, and somewhere behind the glass, the unfinished track waited.

Beyoncé reached up and adjusted the headphones hanging around her neck. "You really believe I’m good enough?"

Marvin’s expression changed. "I don’t think you’re good enough."

Her eyebrows drew together. "I think you’re going to be great."

She stared at him. "There’s a difference."

"What difference?"

"Good enough is something people say when they’re trying to make you feel better."

He stepped closer. "Great is what you tell someone when you’ve already seen what they’re capable of."

She held his gaze. "And you’ve seen that?"

"I’ve been listening to you for a long time."

A small smile touched her mouth. "You’re such a show-off."

"Only when you’re listening."

She laughed. "That’s terrible."

"You liked it."

"I didn’t say that."

"You didn’t have to."

She gave him a playful shove. "Cocky."

"Confident."

"Same thing."

"Not even close."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Meyers."

He smiled. "And Beyoncé?"

"Yeah?"

"I’m not going to let you fall."

The playfulness left her face. "That’s a big promise."

"I know."

"You can’t control everything."

"No."

He paused. "But I can make sure you’re never standing there alone wondering whether you’re enough."

She looked at him for a long moment.

Her eyes softened. "You really mean that."

"I do."

She swallowed and gave him a small, almost embarrassed smile. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

She stepped closer until their shoulders touched again. "Then I’ll believe you."

Marvin looked down at her. "Good."

She smiled. "But if you ever get too full of yourself, I’m taking you down."

"I’d like to see you try."

"Oh, I can."

"I know."

"And don’t think that smile is going to save you."

"It usually does."

"Not with me."

He smiled wider. "That’s why I like you."

She tried to look annoyed.

It didn’t work.

"Come on," she said, turning toward the booth. "We’ve got a song to finish."

Marvin followed her. "Now who’s being serious?"

"Somebody has to be."

"That’s my girl."

Beyoncé stopped and looked back at him. "Your girl?"

Marvin paused. A grin slowly spread across his face. "Did I say that?"

"You did."

"Hm."

"You’re not taking it back?"

"No."

Her smile returned. "Good."

She turned toward the booth before he could see how pleased she was.

"*My Boo*," she said.

Marvin looked at her. "Yeah."

****

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