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Esme extended an arm forward and gestured to the woman with the golden eyes. People murmured at the mention of this name, but Mia had never heard of her until five minutes ago. Harper Nightingale, she thought…she’d maybe heard of her once in passing but didn’t know the power she held until faced with it in the same room. Harper’s face was softer now, a benevolent smile as the crowd cheered for her, she seemed to almost purr at the attention, a leg crossed over the other, swaying like a tail.
“For the regulars of the Indigo Lounge, tonight’s performer will need no introduction, but for those who have come from Harper’s social circle to perhaps witness history being made, I present to you all the soulful voice of Mia Cortés!”
The crowd whooped and applauded, making the air flutter with the breeze from the sea of hands. Over the vibrating mass, as if by design, Harper sat in her own spotlight overhead, her eyes locked once more on Mia, a disconcerting smile on her face. She raised her glass of wine in a silent cheers to Mia, a challenge. She was the most beautiful and deadly looking woman Mia had ever seen.
Something about the nerves and the adrenaline always took ahold of Mia when she performed, the whole experience would become somewhat of a blur and she never remembered much of her performances, but one thing she always lived for was the moment of silence as she took in her breath ready to sing. In that moment, the pleasure of the anticipation would spark through the crowd like a current and call to her. She always liked to hold that breath a second longer than necessary to feel that jolt of excitement take over her to be able to throw it back tenfold when she sang.
Mia stepped up to the mic and drew her starting breath.
2
Harper Nightingale hadn’t known what to expect when she pulled up to the Indigo Lounge, but it was underwhelming from outside. It just looked like a large, arty coffee shop that had decided to stay open late for an event. She may have not even thought that much had it not been for the huge amount of people crowding around the door trying to get in, people who were there for her more than whoever this Mia Cortés was. She was only attending at all due to a favor she owed her college friend, Deborah. She had saved her many a time over the last year or so by being able to source people and props in what seemed an instant, which had been immensely helpful with the amount of tours she had been preparing for a wide range of demanding artists.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” was Deborah’s only comment a few days earlier when Harper had audibly groaned over the phone to her suggestion.
“Why this girl anyway? Do you have a crush on her or something?” she teased.
“On Mia? No! She’s like the daughter I wish I had; I don’t see her that way. She’s beautiful, there’s no doubt there, but she’s incredibly hard working and kind. She has big dreams and immense talent—I just don’t want her getting poached by the wrong person.”
“And you think I’m the right person?” Harper chuckled sarcastically.
“Well, you have a reputation of being a hard-ass, but I went to college with you, so I know that’s mostly for show.”
“Alright, shut it you, these calls could be monitored, wouldn’t want it getting out that I’m secretly not a ginormous bitch.”
The two friends moved onto matters of business again and that was the end of that.
Now she sat in the back of one of her cars regretting not being a massive bitch, as she should’ve cancelled.
“If I’m not back in twenty minutes, the girl is good enough to keep me interested,” she said to her driver in the front, and he nodded in response.
Harper stepped out into the evening air and then made her way towards the door. She walked with a purpose and this made people turn to look. In her presence, people stepped aside, something she’d loved being able to do since a teenager, now in her mid fifties, her nearly six feet of height was no less intimidating. She’d been one of the biggest names in artist management and representation for the last five years, but she was an industry secret weapon; she rarely made appearances and only those who knew of her would know the name personally, otherwise she was just known colloquially as the Huntress. She heard this name murmured on the wind as she walked into the bar.
The Indigo Lounge was more pleasant inside than she’d expected but she was still really hoping this wasn’t all going to be a waste of her time. She liked to test new singers with the unexpected to see if they could handle the industry, the crowd tonight had been part of her test. She had started a rumor that the Huntress was looking to attend a local gig here about a week ago, and it looks as though it had spread nicely, perhaps a little too nicely she thought to herself as the glass of wine just handed to her by a frantic-looking woman in her fifties was nearly knocked to the floor.
“Please be careful!” shouted the woman at the careless youth who had bumped into Harper. “Apologies. I believe you must be our special guest for the evening, Ms. Huntress…”
“Oh please, that’s just a fun little name the industry gives me for being picky. My name is Harper Nightingale.” She gracefully extended her hand and Esme nervously took it.
“Uh, my name is Esme, I’m the owner and a friend of Deborah’s”
“She has told me about you, lovely to meet you at last. Esme darling, can you do me a favor this evening? Tonight, with such a big crowd, I’ve decided that I want everyone here to know who the Huntress is, your singer can be my coronation performance, so to speak. So do please introduce me using my proper name when welcoming her to the stage, I want to amp up the pressure a little for Ms. Cortés.”
A defensive flicker darted across Esme’s eyes, which made Harper smile.
“She means a lot to you it seems.”
“She does; she’s a wonderful girl, Deborah would agree. I don’t know who you are, Ms. Nightingale, but I hope Deborah is right to put Mia’s future in your hands. If she’s wrong and that girl gets hurt, there will be hell to pay.”
Harper smiled a deep genuine smile, which made Esme uneasy.
“I like you, Esme, you are like Deborah—and I trust Deborah’s judgement. If you are both saying I should keep an eye on this one, you have my word she will be taken care of. But first she has to pass my test.”
“Right…” said Esme, unsure of the rollercoaster she was just taken on. “Best see you do, because she will.”
The two women sized each up for a moment before they were interrupted by Deborah at their side.
“Ah, always making such lovely first impressions, aren’t you, Harper?” Deborah smiled apologetically to Esme and then took Harper’s hand to lead her through the crowd to two reserved seats.
