From A Producer To A Chapter 146: The Call

Chapter 146: The Call

Dayo blinked, confused. "What?" he muttered under his breath, wiping water from his eyes.

George was still staring, almost speechless.

They both instinctively turned to the electrical scoreboards and looked at each other again.

The whole indoor pool went quiet.

The scoreboard read:

1 — George Miller 25.45

2 — Dayo Johnson 25.50

3 — Ryan Cole 26.02

4 — Nathan Lee 27.33

5 — Daniel Cruz 28.59

6 — Alex Grant 30.01

7 — Liam Park 30.12

8 — Marcus Allen 30.45

The crowd burst into loud cheers, screaming in excitent as the replay appeared on the screen.

George was still breathing hard when he turned to Dayo. Water dripped from his hair, his chest rose and fell fast, and yet he still found the strength to grin.

"Bro, you’re a beast," George said, half laughing, half panting. "How the hell did you swim like that? You had a professional training or what?"

Dayo wiped his face with a towel and chuckled. "Nah, man. No training. Just normal day to day swimming."

George shook his head. "Nah, that can’t be. You almost caught , and I’ve been swimming my whole life. You’ve got crazy natural speed."

Dayo just shrugged. "Guess I missed the water more than I thought."

George pointed at him. "You know you could actually compete in the Olympics, right?"

Dayo laughed. "What? Olympics? Nah, I’m not built for that ."

George smiled. "You sure? You were half a second behind , and I wasn’t even holding back. You might think you’re rusty, but if you trained, man, you’d shock the world."

Dayo just smiled and shook his head. "You won, bro. That’s what matters."

Kids ran toward them from the crowd, cheering. "Brother Dayo! You almost won! You’re the best!" one shouted.

Dayo crouched and patted a few of them on the head. "Almost doesn’t count, right?" he said playfully, smiling.

The kids laughed. "Next ti, you’ll win!"

He gave them a thumbs-up, then waved as the organizers wrapped up the event. George ca over again, still shaking his head. "For real, man. You shocked

today. I’ve been retired for two years, but I’ve never seen anyone with that kind of raw power. I actually broke one of my last year records just trying to beat you."

Dayo raised a brow. "That bad?"

"Yeah," George said with a grin. "That good."

They both laughed and went to grab towels. Caras flashed a few tis, but Dayo barely noticed. He wasn’t used to people seeing him like this anymore — away from music, away from all the noise.

Later that evening, George posted a short clip of the race online with a caption:

> "Almost lost to JD in a charity swimming competition ???? man’s built different."

The post didn’t go viral, but it sparked small reactions across the internet. Fans joked in the comnts:

> "JD can sing and now swim? What can’t this guy do?"

"He disappears for years and cos back and almost beating an Olympics champion?"

"Eve though even he is retired."

"Man just needs to join the Avengers at this point."

It trended lightly on Twitter for a few hours before fading, but a few sports blogs picked it up — nothing huge, just mild curiosity.

anwhile, George’s phone was flooded with ssages from old friends, most of them teasing him. One caught his attention — a text from his forr coach, Richard.

> "Heard you lost to a musician?"

George smirked and called imdiately.

"Coach, you won’t believe this guy," George said. "He’s got sothing. Raw, natural strength — zero technique, but the power is insane."

Richard chuckled on the other end. "You an JD? The singer?"

"Yeah, that’s the one. You should see the video. He nearly beat ."

"George," Richard said, still skeptical, "you’re talking about a pop artist. I’m not scouting celebrities for YouTube views."

George laughed. "I’m serious, coach. Look at the clip first."

A few seconds of silence passed before Richard spoke again. "Wait... he’s using no technique at all. Just raw strokes. And he’s still that fast?"

"Exactly," George said. "I was going full speed. He caught up halfway and nearly overtook ."

"That’s... impressive," Richard said thoughtfully. "If he actually trained, he could qualify for national trials. But I doubt he’d be interested."

George smiled. "You’d be surprised. The guy’s full of surprises."

Richard sighed. "Fine. Send

his contact. I’ll think about it."

"Will do, coach."

After hanging up, George leaned back in his chair. He watched the replay one more ti and couldn’t help but grin. "Man, what are you made of, JD?"

—

A few days later, Dayo sat in his office at JD Foundation. Papers were spread across his desk — new charity programs, sponsorship letters, and proposals for expansion. He’d been thinking deeply about sothing new.

He wanted to do more. Not just charity — impact. Sothing global. Sothing aningful.

He rember when he finished the race and George called him a beast that spark sothing why not replicate ’Mr Beast’ Intents

What if I tried that?" he muttered to himself. "Big projects. Real impact. Sothing that touches lives... but in a fun way."

Sharon peeked into the office. "Boss, everything okay?"

Dayo smiled. "Yeah, just thinking. Maybe it’s ti we start sothing new."

"Another foundation branch?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he said. "Sothing different. Sothing the world doesn’t expect."

Before he could explain further, his phone rang. The caller ID read George.

He answered. "Hey, bro, what’s up?"

"Yo, JD," George said, his tone unusually serious. "Quick question — how would you feel if I told you there’s a chance for you to compete in a world-level swimming event?"

Dayo blinked confused as to where this was coming from. "Wait, what?"

"I’m serious. I talked to my coach. He saw our race. Man, he’s interested. Said if you trained properly, you could qualify for the nationals."

Dayo laughed. "Nah, bro, stop joking."

"I’m not joking," George said firmly. "You’ve got talent. Real talent. Think about it, JD. Maybe this is your next wave."

The line went quiet for a few seconds. Dayo leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as he stared out the window.

"World level, huh?" he murmured.

"Yeah," George said. "If you’re in, I’ll set it up."

Dayo exhaled slowly, unsure what to say. He looked at the open docunts on his desk — the plans, the budgets, the schedules. All the work he’d done to stay quiet and stay focused.

And yet, for the first ti in years, sothing in him stirred again.

He smiled faintly. "Alright, George. Let’s talk."

The call ended there.