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“Thank you!” Mia was about halfway down the hallway and waved back at her with a smile that could power a block’s worth of streetlights, laughing.
Yeah, thought Harper, I’m in trouble with this one.
She shut the door and dimmed the lights in the living room, thinking that one last glass of champagne wouldn’t hurt. Mia wouldn’t be the only one with a full schedule in the coming weeks, and Harper didn’t know when her next chance to celebrate would be.
And this was a moment worthy of celebration. Harper’s honed radar for talent meant that she could smell success from several miles off, and Mia would do incredibly well, she could already tell. That meant that she would also do incredibly well, sure, but as she leaned back on to the sofa where Mia was a moment before, she realized that doing well for herself had not been her first instinct here.
Making Mia happy. That was her first instinct. Her delight in the studio, her wonder at the jazz club, the champagne at her own home—none of that was actually a necessary step when working towards signing a contract. Typically, the procedure was several board meetings followed by a no-frills signing, a brief celebration for the act and then recording demos. That’s not what happened here, Harper realized, and that’s not what she wanted to happen here. She had wanted to woo Mia. From that very first moment she had laid eyes on her. She had wanted to seduce her. She wanted to feel every part of her body, mind and soul.
The thought startled Harper. Despite what her friends at the label had said, this wasn’t like what had happened with Felicity. Sure, there was a strong sense of lust there, and an intense connection, but it had never been anything more than that. It had just been sex. This connection with Mia, though, that was different. There was a spark of genuine affection. If Mia’s career didn’t get off the ground Harper knew that she would be devastated. She wanted to make sure Mia was looked after.
She leaned back on the sofa, closing her eyes for a moment. This would involve calling in a lot of favors. Tomorrow would be filled with phone calls, emails and many instances of assuring organizers that yes, Mia won’t flake and yes, she is the real deal.
She was the real deal, Harper knew, a true artist who deserved her place in the spotlight. Her lyrics highlighted her life as a lesbian and her cultural background, and her stage presence was magnetic in a way many of those organizers could only dream of. That blend of unique traits and talent only came once in a lifetime.
Harper finished her glass and was about to walk to her kitchen to clean it when a ping came from her phone. Unlocking the screen, she found it was an email from the studio.
“That was quick,” Harper muttered, reading through the email before seeing the files attached at the bottom. Turning the volume up on her phone, Harper tapped play on the first of the files, knowing the rest would play in due time.
She allowed Mia’s presence to fill the apartment. As she went from the kitchen to her bathroom to her bedroom, she imagined Mia there with her. Her music filled every corner and crevice, filling Harper’s mind with the image of her in the studio, dancing and concentrating her power.
Undressing in her room and turning the lights off, Harper turned down the volume on her phone, lowering the demo to a murmur. Slipping between the sheets, she felt comforted by Mia’s presence.
“I might be in too deep,” she said to the empty room. She didn’t move to turn the music off, though. As her mind calmed down from the events of the day, she allowed Mia’s voice to lull her to a deep, satisfying sleep.
When her alarm woke her at 5am the next morning, Harper didn’t waste a moment. Dressing and walking to her kitchen, she brewed herself a cup of coffee while her laptop booted up in her office. Mentally, she made a list of nearly every contact she had locally. Photographers, club promoters, event organizers—she would have to contact a PR agency, get roadies together for shows, see if she could get Mia a slot on local television...
None of this work was new to Harper, but as she finished her first coffee and went to sit at her desk, a fire was lit within her. She wanted this to work. With steely determination, she began typing emails to people she knew, timing them to send at 8am. A lot of these organizers didn’t have to be up at 5am to work this hard, so she made sure that when they sat down to work, her email would be one of the first they saw. She hadn’t gotten into her current position by accident. Hard work, determination and a certain amount of thick skin had made Harper Nightingale into the Huntress in the eyes of the music industry.
Still, her determination was being fueled by something else. She thought about Mia’s situation and compared it to her level of confidence on stage. She seemed comfortable, more comfortable on stage than someone who had never been signed really should be, but that confidence faltered once she was offstage again.
Whatever caused it, Harper wanted to give Mia enough experience to allow her to keep that confidence with her wherever she went. She genuinely had no idea how someone with that much talent was living in a room above a bar, working sparse shifts, when she had a gift worth sharing with the world.
It seemed like a question worth asking, she thought. She wouldn’t pry, but as Mia’s agent, she thought they needed to be able to trust each other. They had both been very frank about their situations and upbringings, and Harper reasoned that they were close enough to justify Mia answering one or two questions.
Still, that wasn’t a problem for right now. Once 8:30am hit, Harper received several replies from people she had contacted.
Yes, we would love to have her for an interview, let us know when her schedule is free.
Of course we would be willing to sponsor an event. Your reputation precedes you.
By 10am, she was filling out an online calendar with interviews, recording and mixing sessions, meet-and-greets for later when Mia developed a fan base, and press days. She would need to check with Mia about contacting Stefan, Taylor and Ricky for recording, if they needed any extra session musicians, and if she wanted to use a specific concept for the album, but by the time the afternoon came around Harper was confident that Mia would be very happy with the schedule.
Restraint would be needed, of course. A level of professionalism would be required, especially in public or when working with industry professionals. Rumors were quick to start and even quicker to catch on, and Harper knew that despite her track record, she couldn’t risk a scandal like this. Still, once Mia was happy, she could be happy.
Before she could take a break for lunch, she had one last big favor to call in. She began typing, making sure the wording was as convincing as possible. Harper knew she couldn’t afford to mess this up.
8
Coming down the stairs at the Indigo Lounge a few days later, Mia felt like she was on cloud nine. Harper had been keeping her tided over with occasional updates but had saved any major details for when they would be meeting in person. Deborah had been overjoyed when Mia told her about the contract, smugly telling her that she’d known about her potential all along. Reaching the main floor of the lounge, Mia looked out fondly at the patrons of the lounge. There were a few women sitting close to the bar, laughing over a pot of tea. Ruby, still working on her manuscript, was sitting in the corner sipping a cup of coffee and intermittently sighing to herself. Mia gave her a wave and, when she waved back, scanned the room and locked eyes with Deborah.
“It’s like this place has some sort of creative ley-line or something,” Deborah said once she’d come over, sitting at a booth and gesturing to the seat across from her. “Everybody’s working on a novel, or music, or sketching people passing by...”
“It’s a really encouraging environment, honestly. Made even better by having supportive people like you around.”
“Ah, don’t be silly, Mia, that’s what I do. You’re an absolute credit to the community here, you should be very proud of yourself.”
Mia shrugged.
