Morning Momentum

The bank meeting was four hours away when I woke up to three missed calls from Mitchell at Sony. My phone buzzed again as I reached for it – Rico this time: "Label wants more beats. ASAP."

Perfect timing. I'd spent the night preparing for this, crafting tracks that would showcase evolution without revealing revolution. The next phase needed careful calibration.

I found Mom in the kitchen, poring over property records she'd pulled from city archives. In my first timeline, she'd shown this same focused determination, but years later. Now, her natural business instinct was emerging ahead of schedule.

"The warehouse has three liens against it," she said without looking up. "Previous owner tried converting it to lofts in '98. Failed inspection, went bankrupt."

"That's why we'll get it cheap," I replied, setting up my laptop beside her papers. "Previous owner's loss is our foundation."

She looked up, dark circles under her eyes betraying another late night of research. "You sure about using the Sony advance as collateral? That's your money, Marcus. Your future."

I fought back a smile at the irony. "Trust me, Ma. This isn't about my future anymore. It's about building ours."

The MPC hummed to life as I began preparing the new tracks Mitchell wanted. Each beat had to serve multiple purposes: satisfy Sony's immediate needs, plant seeds for future innovations, and generate income we'd need for the warehouse conversion.

Derek showed up at nine, right on schedule. He carried his own equipment, plus the music theory books I'd recommended. Another change from the original timeline – this time, his talent would have proper foundations.

"Ready to learn something new?" I asked, queuing up the first beat.

"Born ready," he replied, setting up beside me. In my previous life, his natural intuition for sound had emerged too late. This time, we'd nurture it from the start.

I walked him through the production process, carefully sharing techniques that would seem innovative for 2002 without raising suspicions. Each lesson carried echoes of future knowledge, stripped down to its essence.

"See how the bass hits just before the beat?" I demonstrated the timing shift. "That's gonna be your signature sound. Trust me."

Derek's eyes lit up as he grasped the concept. In my other timeline, he'd discover this technique years later, after recovery. Now, he was catching fire early.

"But how'd you know to try this?" he asked, fingers already mimicking the pattern.

Because I heard you do it in 2019, after you finally got clean. Because this sound would define a genre once you found your way back to music.

"Just experimenting," I said instead. "Sometimes you gotta push past what everyone else is doing."

My phone buzzed again – Rico's cousin confirming the bank meeting. Everything was moving faster this time, pieces falling into place with the momentum of future knowledge.

Mom appeared in the doorway, dressed for the first time in business casual instead of scrubs. Another small change, another step toward her future self.

"The property assessor can meet us at the warehouse before the bank," she said, checking her newly purchased planner. "I've been reviewing comparable sales in the area."

I nodded, remembering how she'd master real estate analytics in our original timeline. "Perfect. Derek, you good to keep working on those patterns? I've got some business to handle."

"Business?" He laughed. "Man, two days ago you were just another kid with beats. Now you're what, a CEO?"

Not yet, I thought. But soon.

The morning sun hit different as Mom and I headed out, her with her folders of research, me with my carefully crafted plans. In one timeline, we'd built an empire through trial and error. This time, we were laying the foundation with precision.

The future was already changing. Note by note, deal by deal, we were building something bigger than before.

And this was just the beginning.