They weren't wrong.
They simply couldn't hear what lay beneath the music.
Marvin's voice carried more than lyrics.
The melody carried more than notes.
Young people, weeping in their bedrooms over broken hearts, suddenly found themselves smiling, a strange, comforting warmth spreading through their chests. In dormitories, students struggling with the crushing weight of exams released their tension, exhaling long breaths.
But this was beyond resonance. This was Marvin's "Hypnotic Voice combined with Hypnotic Music," Auditory spells that manipulated the global emotions.
Far far from enough to seize a person's mind or rewrite their thoughts, but enough to brush gently against emotions already waiting beneath the surface. Regret softened. Tension eased. Old wounds didn't disappear, but for the length of a song they seemed a little lighter to carry.
No one listening recognized it as magic.
They only knew they wanted to hear the song again and again and again...
The final piano chord lingered for a heartbeat before dissolving into silence.
For several seconds, nothing followed.
Not a jingle. Not a commercial. Not even the familiar hum of the studio.
Inside the KIIS-FM control room, nobody reached for the next button. One producer was still staring through the glass toward the recording booth. Another had forgotten the stack of commercials waiting to air.
Rick Dees himself simply sat there.
One hand rested on the fader.
The other still held the lyric sheet someone had handed him before the broadcast.
He blinked once, exhaled softly, then leaned toward the microphone.
"Well..." A quiet chuckle escaped him. "I guess I should probably do my job now."
The control room laughed, breaking the spell. "You know… This is the fifth time I've heard that record today."
"Fifth."
"And somehow..."
"It still got me."
He shook his head, almost laughing at himself. "That's a dangerous thing for a songwriter to be able to do."
"There are songs you listen to..."
"And then there are songs that make you stop listening to everything else."
He paused. "For about four minutes there..."
"I wasn't thinking about traffic..."
"I wasn't thinking about commercials..."
"I wasn't even thinking about being on the radio."
"I was nineteen again."
Another soft laugh. "Funny how music does that."
He tapped the desk lightly. "Every once in a while, a record comes along that doesn't just sound good..."
"It reminds you of somebody."
"Or someplace."
"Or some version of yourself you'd almost forgotten."
"That one summer, and that one girl, come rushing right back to my mind."
He let the thought settle. "That's a rare gift."
"And for a kid who's barely old enough to get a learner's permit..."
"Well..."
"That's just not fair."
The producers laughed again.
"It's... it's very strange, folks. Marvin Meyers' songs always have this extremely strong, undeniable pulling power. They reach right down and drag the true, raw emotions right out of you. If I had to describe it, it's like a form of hypnosis. And let's be honest, all great entertainment is a kind of hypnosis, but Marvin is just the master of this effect, whether he's on the silver screen or on the airwaves."
"Now, I know exactly what's about to happen."
"Every record store in Los Angeles is going to get flooded with phone calls tomorrow morning."
"People are going to ask when they can buy it..."
"They're going to ask when the album's coming..."
"And somewhere here, Marvin Meyers is probably grinning because he already knew we'd react like this."
Mark cleared his throat, leaning into the microphone. "It is rumored by industry insiders that this song was written and given to a certain, specific girl in Marvin's life. I really don't know who the lucky lady is, but I am sure tabloids are already guessing! Is it Scarlett Johansson? Jessica Alba? Lindsay Lohan? Beyoncé Knowles?"
"These are all talented young ladies who have a documented, close relationship with Marvin. Could it be one of them? Whoever she is, she has the envy of the entire world right now."
Rick smiled audibly. "As for who inspired the song..."
"Your guess is as good as mine."
"Now, you know what's going to happen tomorrow morning. Every entertainment reporter from here to New York is going to start asking the same question—who's '*That Girl*'? And I promise you, before breakfast somebody's already convinced they've solved the mystery."
"I'm not touching that one with a ten-foot pole. I'll let the tabloids start the guessing game. They usually do anyway."
"The tabloids can earn their paychecks."
He slid the next fader forward.
"But if you just joined us..."
"That was the world premiere of *That Girl*, the brand-new single from Marvin Meyers."
"And something tells me..."
"You're going to be hearing that one for a very, very long time."
In the back seat of the SUV, the radio commentary hung in the air.
Lindsay leaned in until her shoulder brushed his. The question came as little more than a whisper, meant for him alone beneath the steady hum of the car.
"Daddy Marvin..."
Her small hand slipped across the seat and wrapped around his arm, holding on without really thinking about it. "Did... did you write this one for us?"
She put the tiniest emphasis on us. It wasn't a careless choice of words.
To Lindsay, us meant the people inside the circle she'd quietly built in her heart—herself, Dorothy, Beyoncé, Scarlett, and Jessica.
Not the public.
Not Hollywood.
Just... their little family, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
She searched his face with hopeful blue eyes, waiting for his answer, her grip unconsciously tightening around his arm.
Marvin turned toward her. The passing streetlights swept across his face in slow intervals, throwing alternating bands of light and shadow over features that seemed almost unreal in their symmetry.
For a brief moment, he simply looked at her.
Time moved strangely.
To him, years often felt like pages turning in a book. Yet looking at Lindsay now, he was reminded that human childhood disappeared much faster than anyone noticed.
The little girl who had once clung to his sleeve with both hands had begun to change.
She was taller. Her face had softened into more refined features.
The awkward angles of childhood were slowly giving way to adolescence, though innocence still lingered in her bright blue eyes.
She was growing up. And through every milestone, she'd remained at his side.
"Of course," Marvin said quietly.
"I wrote it for all of you."
The words settled over her like a warm blanket.
Lindsay didn't squeal. She didn't bounce in her seat or throw her arms around him the way she might have only a couple of years earlier.
The little girl who had once clung to him with every emotion written plainly across her face was still there—but only when they were alone, or surrounded by the circle that belonged to them. Around the rest of the world, she is learning patience. Confidence. She no longer needed constant reassurance.
She already knew.
The answer settled over her like sunlight.
A rush of happiness bloomed inside her so suddenly that she almost threw herself into his arms out of pure instinct.
Almost.
She stopped herself with visible effort, her fingers tightening around his arm instead.
If it had been just the two of them—or if Dorothy, Beyoncé, Scarlett, and Jessica had been there—she would already have been hugging him, peppering his cheek with kisses, laughing without caring who saw.
That was simply how she loved him.
But there were other people in the limousine.
So she settled for squeezing his arm, unable to stop the smile that spread across her face.
It wasn't restrained because the feeling was smaller.
If anything, it was bigger.
Moments like these had become part of her life now.
Marvin quietly keeping his promises.
Marvin thinking of them whenever he created something.
Marvin making room for them in a future that kept growing larger.
She had stopped wondering if he would remember.
He always did.
The certainty of that filled her with a contentment so complete that she found herself unconsciously leaning a little closer to him.
As Marvin spoke, he felt the pressure on his other arm increase ever so slightly.
Someone else had tightened their grip without even realizing it. Marvin turned his head.
Amy was already looking at him.
There was no childlike wonder in her expression. No open awe.
She met his eyes with the calm certainty of a woman who knew him well—who understood the quiet way he showed affection, the promises he kept without announcing them, the habit he had of taking care of the people he considered his own.
Her fingers remained lightly wrapped around his arm, her thumb unconsciously brushing the sleeve of his shirt just above the platinum bracelet circling her wrist.
She hadn't even noticed she was doing it.
Marvin didn't speak.
He simply held her gaze for a moment, then gave the slightest nod.
That was all.
Amy understood immediately.
A warm smile spread across her face—not dazzling or dramatic, but genuine enough to soften every feature. The corners of her eyes crinkled, and she let out the faintest breath of a laugh, almost embarrassed by how easily he could read her.
They had long since grown beyond needing words for moments like this.
One look.
One nod.
It was enough.
She gave his arm one last gentle squeeze before relaxing her hand, content simply to sit beside him.
The quiet intimacy lingering in the back seat lasted only another heartbeat before a voice from the front of the limousine cut through the silence.
Jeff let out a long breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Jesus..."
He looked at Marvin, then back toward the speakers as if expecting the song to start again. "That's... that's a hell of a record."
He laughed quietly, still shaking his head. "I've been doing this long enough that I don't get carried away easily. Half the time I can tell where a single's going before the first chorus." He rubbed his forearm. "Look at this."
He held up his arm. The hairs were still standing. "Doesn't happen often."
His smile grew. "Congratulations, Marvin. You've got another one."
Marvin smiled back, modest without looking rehearsed. "Thanks."
He glanced toward the mixing console where Max was still studying the playback. "The arrangement came together exactly the way I'd hoped. Max deserves just as much credit as I do."
Gordon kept his eyes on the rain-darkened road, his hands settling a little tighter around the steering wheel.
The song had gotten to him too.
Not in any obvious way. It had simply slipped past his guard, stirring up something he'd buried years ago before quietly letting it settle again.
'Bloody hell…'
He stole a brief glance at Marvin in the rear-view mirror.
'He did it again.'
Gordon had seen the Incubus gift at work often enough to recognize the feeling. It never announced itself. It simply found the smallest crack in a person's defenses and eased its way inside.
That, more than anything, unsettled him. Marvin could move people's hearts without them ever realizing they'd been nudged at all.
Gordon still hadn't grown used to it. A few minutes of music, and Marvin could stir emotions most people spent years trying to bury. The ease with which he did it was the frightening part.
Lindsay couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. She ducked her head, trying to hide the heat rising into her cheeks, but it was hopeless. The blush had already given her away.
Without thinking, she scooted a little closer and wrapped both hands around Marvin's arm, hugging it against herself with the quiet confidence that came from knowing she didn't have to ask permission anymore.
Amy noticed the movement from the other side.
She looked at Lindsay for a brief second before the corner of her own mouth lifted.
"Greedy," she murmured, teasing.
Lindsay glanced up with a tiny grin. "You can talk."
Amy laughed under her breath and, without the slightest embarrassment, slipped her own hand back around Marvin's other arm.
"Fair point."
Marvin sat between them without the slightest sign of discomfort, as though the arrangement were the most natural thing in the world.
He simply let them stay there.
Lindsay rested lightly against his shoulder, still glowing with quiet happiness, while Amy leaned back into the seat, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric of his sleeve.
Neither woman spoke again.
They didn't need to.
The car continued through the evening traffic, while Marvin remained at the center of two very different kinds of affection—one bright and youthful, the other calm and deeply assured—and accepted both with the effortless composure that had long since become second nature to him.