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“Mamá! I do not have an Oedipus complex!”
“Well, I don’t know, don’t shout at your mother!”
Mia wanted to crawl into a hole, which was much the same level of embarrassment she usually felt talking about girls with her mom, but she was making it so much worse than usual.
“Mamá, I have to go. I need to go to the lounge; I promised Esme I’d help her with something.”
“Hmmm, okay. Keep safe, mi amor, and don’t let this woman mess with you, or she will mess with me!”
“Okay Mamá, Adios, te quiero mucho!”
“Y tu amor…” and Mia hung up.
She figured she’d likely get lectured about hanging up early the next time they spoke, but for now she didn’t care—that was a future Mia problem. Mia scanned through her emails and messages again and upon seeing nothing again, she decided that going to the lounge might not be a bad idea if only to take her mind off the waiting for a while.
When she arrived, it was like the whole of last night hadn’t happened, which made Mia begin to worry that maybe the whole thing had actually been a dream after all, until a group of people at a nearby table cheered when they saw her and called her over.
“Hey! You survived the night after all those drinks then? Didn’t need your stomach pumped?” said a guy with black hair and eyebrows died pink.
“Uh hey! I don’t really remember anything of last night, but as far as I can recall, I don’t think I had a trip to the hospital.”
“You don’t remember us, do you?” said a handsome black guy with his arm around Mr. Pink Eyebrows.
Mia shook her head apologetically, at which the three guys started laughing.
“Remind me to have whatever cocktail of drinks you had next time I wanna forget an ex…” said the final guy, a skinhead guy with three nose piercings and a t-shirt that read sorry ladies, I suck dick on it.
“I feel like I should remember you guys, you’re quite hard to forget.”
“I know, how rude of you!” said pinky again, “I’m Stefan, this is my boyfriend Taylor, and the walking pin cushion over there is Ricky.”
“Hey! At least call me a glistening jewelry box or something!”
Stefan just laughed as if this was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard and Ricky got up to play fight him.
“Sorry about them,” said Taylor, “we came to you after Harper had left and told you that we are musicians as well, and if you ever want to record something to live music, just let us know.”
Mia did vaguely remember something about that, but it also sparked the memory of gushing to one of them about Harper and how incredible she looked for half the conversation. As her cheeks began to feel hot again, she felt a strong vibration from her phone and realized she was being called. She saw the unrecognized number and took a deep breath before answering.
“Hello again, Mia,” came the silky voice of Harper like a summer breeze down the phone line. Mia sat down without even registering it, and the three men around her all paused feeling the tension coming from her.
“Uh…Hello Harper.”
5
By the time Harper reached her apartment after the show, she already had an email with Mia’s contact details as well as a link to her music blog—thanks to Deborah, efficient as ever. Harper clicked on the link and started the first song on the website. She cringed at the poor recording quality as it came out loud and tinny from her large speaker system but smiled to herself as she pictured a passionate Mia at a desk somewhere recording this song for her on a phone microphone. The voice was the same powerful voice with the flamenco styled riffs over the notes that made her heart ache, and she let it fill her up as she began to get undressed for bed. She took off her blazer and the tape over her nipples and breasts that had been holding them in place and wandered to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. She let her hair out of its messy bun of braids and prowled through her rooms sipping and enjoying both the flavor of the robust Rioja and the vibrating quiver from Mia’s voice. In no rush, and after four songs had passed and another glass had been topped up, she slinked out of her pants and made her way to her bedroom. She checked herself in the mirror; she had to give her new personal trainer a tip the next time she saw him as she was looking better than she had in her life, her stomach was taut and with her already long legs, the newfound lines of definition along them made her look taller still. In her black laced lingerie panties, she teased the edges of the fabric before slipping out of them entirely.
“It’s too warm for clothes tonight…” she said to herself and laid out on her silk sheets to finish her warming night-cap. “Ha, even my wine is Spanish. What am I getting myself into…” she fell asleep to the soothing lullaby of Mia and the heavy smokiness of the wine.
The following morning, she was up at five as usual and had already begun calling in every favor she could to get together something special for Mia. Something about her grateful smile, that genuine disbelief that this could be happening to her, made Harper’s heart flutter and if she could get a smile like that out of her every time they saw each other, she might be content with just that.
The first thing to arrange was a contract. She did this relatively easily and even made sure to give Mia as good a cut of royalties as she could, cutting her own portion down a little to make it up; Harper had enough as it was and it was clear that Mia could be successful enough that even a smaller portion would make her a healthy income.
The next thing to sort out was the dreadful recordings of her songs, she called their usual studio and booked out the whole day. The final thing to do was to call in her associates. New talent had to be approved by the whole board before a contract could be offered, this was why her agency was so successful—artists weren’t just taken on whims.
Her associates agreed to meet that afternoon at the studio and hear this girl out, but they didn’t sound sure.
“Is this gonna be another Felicity?” asked Jennifer, the senior producer.
