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1
The air was charged like static with the humming of talk and the jostling of bodies within the Indigo Lounge. Open mic night was usually popular and both the regulars and passers-through liked to get involved with spoken poetry, live music and performance. Once a passing circus even had a couple of the acrobats perform some gravity-defying lifts and stunts that really drew in a crowd.
Mia watched as Esme, the owner of the lounge, pushed her way through the ebbing current of patrons towards her, her wavy hair looking wild as she approached.
“Goodness! That was certainly a workout!” She exhaled when she finally reached Mia. “A good turnout, isn’t it?”
“Good? This is insane, Ez, you’ll make a killing tonight for sure. Do you know whether Indigo was mentioned anywhere online to bring in a crowd like this?”
“Well actually, I do know, and that’s why I wanted to come and speak to you quickly. I wasn’t told this until later this afternoon myself, but one of Deborah’s friends is coming tonight, as well, at the recommendation of Deborah! The crowd has come because she’s spread the word!”
“Oh… Well, that’s amazing, this will hopefully be a real boost to the bar. Although I think it’s probably best that the open mic night sticks to only once a month if it’s going to start getting this busy! What did you want to talk to me about it anyway? You’re the owner, you don’t need my permission!” Mia chuckled, and when Esme didn’t return the laugh, she began to get a sinking feeling in her stomach.
“Well, it seems that Deborah requested this woman to attend to see you specifically. I got a call about it earlier, I’m assuming from her PA or something, saying that she would be attending the Mia Cortés intimate live set this evening. When I tried to tell her it was just open mic night, the girl just laughed and told me it wasn’t! Can you imagine the audacity!? Anyway, when I started to see patrons arriving in waves, I decided I should probably change the signage. They call the woman attending tonight the Huntress, I’m not really sure why, but she’s sounds pretty important.” Esme pointed to the black chalkboard behind the stage.
Mia had been so preoccupied with carrying in all her equipment around the crowd and wondering where everyone had come from that she hadn’t seen the elegant cursive writing advertising her name only behind the microphone.
“Wha—Ez, I don’t know if I can do a set in front of this many people by myself! I was hoping to let a few people go ahead of me to psyche myself up.”
“Mia, my dear, look at me. You’re so young and you still don’t seem to know how capable you are! I’ve seen you perform on that little stage more times than I can remember and every time you blow the crowd away. This is LA, Mia, if you don’t take the opportunity when it comes knocking, you’ll end up a washed-up old woman running a bar like me!”
Mia went to protest, her throat already becoming dry and beginning to seize up at the thought of singing to so many.
“I’m only teasing,” said Esme with a wink, “I know I’m a catch.”
Mia laughed a little and felt her throat ease, she was grateful to have Esme be her bastion in this ocean of anticipation.
“You told me before that your abuela gave you a little mental trick to help with the stage fright, maybe try using that?”
Mia thought of her grandmother’s words all those years ago. All the times when she’d cried into her lap as she said she wanted to be a superstar but got so scared when performing in front of people.
“Cielita, listen to me, you have the strong proud voice of the gitana women who came before you. We used our voices to fight the suppression of our ways, our livelihoods. If you feel threatened by the crowd before you, you must be brave and make the stage your battlefield. If the opponent seems too big or too daunting, single out one person or one part, either the weakest and kindest face or their fiercest of the leader. You either take down the weakest with your voice first and work your way up or take down the leader and watch the rest of them fall at your feet. Remember, amor, your words are your most powerful weapon.”
“I guess I can try,” said Mia, taking in a breath.
“Worst comes to worst, look for my face in the crowd,” said Esme. “Or picture just singing to your grandma.”
Mia liked this idea and smiled. She loved the almost motherly support Esme had given her since arriving in LA eight years before. She gave her a hug and then Esme gave her a quick wink and ran off to the bar where one of the servers was waving her over frantically.
Mia slapped her cheeks to wake herself up a little and carried on setting up her equipment. She began to hum to herself to warm up her voice and looked around the room for a face she could use. She considered the meaning of her abuela’s words and decided that she needed to find either someone friendly who she knew or someone who looked like a challenge to win over and pretend she was only singing to them.
Her eyes scanned the bar first, where Esme was showing one of the newbies how to make a cocktail of some sort. At least she knew where to look if all else failed. Near to the bar was Ruby, her friend who was an aspiring writer, her chaotic fire-red curls tied up in a high-pony to avoid encroaching on other people’s drinks. She smiled and mouthed you got this while making a little love heart with her fingers. She was such a dork, but a good friend. When Mia had arrived in LA, she’d searched queer bars and coffee shops in the area and eventually found the Indigo Lounge. A place that became her second home. Having moved to the US from Spain, her English was okay, but not amazing, so she must’ve looked terrified that first time stepping into the lounge. Within a few minutes, Ruby had plopped herself down beside her and started talking to her like they’d been friends for years. It had helped her to relax and also improve her English over the last eight years to the point of mastery; perhaps she could be the kind face Mia was seeking.
As she set up her laptop to the speakers, she found Deborah’s face smiling back at her from the middle of the room. She was another mother-like figure who had been a supporter since day one. She worked in television and was the owner of one of the most successful streaming services in the world. Why she chose to come to this small downtown coffee-shop-bar was a mystery. When she could be spending her time socializing with the greatest that Hollywood had to offer, why she then chose to interact with Mia at all was an even greater mystery.
After one of her first open mic nights, Deborah had come over and introduced herself in a very businesslike manner and ever since has been her guiding beacon of career-related advice to give her the break she dreamed of; it seemed that she was even behind the sudden surge of customers to the lounge. She could be a focal point to focus on, a symbol of her future, a strong woman successful in her field. Mia smiled back and nodded to herself, yes Deborah would be the one to sing to.
She tested the mic with a few quiet “one, twos,” and a few members of the crowd turned to look at her like vultures at carrion. She felt her throat tighten a little again and went to look for Deborah, however someone was blocking her view. A tall, elegant woman in a perfectly fitted suit. She wore a wide-brimmed black hat which made her look like she had stepped off an Italian runway, and as if to enforce her gravity, people parted to let her sit down, offering her smiles and waves as she did. Then suddenly Mia’s hair prickled on her neck and she began to sweat; two golden eyes locked with hers under the brim of the hat. The woman slowly took the hat off and a cascade of tightly braided black hair was released over one shoulder. In the hair was a weave of a coppery gold, which stood out against the woman’s night-black skin and complemented the gold accents on her dark suit and highlighted the intensity of the blaze in the eyes that still held Mia’s.
That’s got to be who they call the Huntress, Mia thought to herself, gulping for moisture to return to her mouth.
“You ready Mia? Careful of this Huntress, she looks like she won’t be easily impressed,” said Esme, out of nowhere. Mia hadn’t even noticed her walk over.
“Uh…”
“You’ll do great!” Esme gently nudged Mia over to get to the mic, and a dumbfounded Mia stumbled back a little.
“Welcome! Welcome to everyone!” announced Esme, gaining everyone’s attention with a light cheer. “Thank you all for coming out tonight to our humble Indigo Lounge. It’s so incredible to see so many queer people and allies in one space to support the queer arts community. I want to offer my special thank you to the Huntress herself, Ms. Harper Nightingale, who I’m sure you’re all familiar with!”
