Chapter 6 Aria
Aria
Not even a full week passes, and Kelsey has the first engagement for Aria and Griffin set up.
The Chicago Animal Society is hosting their annual fundraising gala, and the pair have been invited to attend as celebrity guests.
The event takes place at a charming, historic hotel downtown that promises an enjoyable evening for all.
Two hours before it kicks off, Aria stands in her walk-in closet at home wearing a robe, assessing the gown options her stylist sent over.
The first is a ruby-red satin halter-neck dress that dips low in the back.
The second is long-sleeved, midnight blue with sparkles arranged in an ombré pattern of sorts.
The final option is a billowing floral-print cupcake-style gown with small puffy sleeves.
“I don’t think any of these are a bad choice,” Bailey says.
Aria grabs the red satin option and holds it in front of her before the mirror. “I like this one a lot, but I’m worried I’ll be cold with the low back.” She replaces it on the hanger and takes the long-sleeve option. “Maybe this one.”
“It brings out the blue of your eyes,” Bailey says. “Plus that sparkle is so you!”
Aria decides to wear the blue dress, but not because of the sparkle.
Because she knows she’ll be comfortable in it too.
Aria isn’t sure how much longer sparkle and happily-ever-after songs will be considered “her” when she wants to dig deeper lyrically.
Then again, when aren’t sparkles appropriate?
She could write a heartfelt song all her own, one true to her heart, and still rock a sparkle.
Aria slips into her bedroom to lay the dress on her bed.
Tonight will be interesting. She and Griffin have been chosen as the mystery celebrity guests at the gala, so to begin, they will stay under wraps in one of the hotel’s downstairs meeting rooms while the guests mill at the bar with a few adoptable pets in attendance.
This is the time the guests will stop by the silent auction, get their cocktail of choice from the bar, and make their annual pledges to support the animal shelter’s efforts.
Once the guests take their assigned seats in the ballroom, she and Griffin will make an entrance and introduce the official programming.
Aria is good on her feet—thanks to a lifetime of being a performer—but she’s not sure how the two will pass the time backstage.
“Can we get separate rooms?” Aria had asked Kelsey.
“You really want to? They’ve suggested you wait together, and I think it could work so you can warm up to one another before going on. Real friends would want to be together, right?”
“If you think it’s important.”
“I think it’ll help this whole setup for you to get to know each other a bit. And no one likes a diva.”
Aria had sighed, then acquiesced. All in the name of good PR.
Before long, Aria has applied her makeup—including her signature red lipstick—and styled her hair.
Her hair and makeup are done so often by the professionals before shows that she actually looks forward to doing it herself when the occasion allows.
It feels nice to have more input on her own look. Take some chances with makeup.
An hour before she is due at the gala, her driver pulls up in a black car and idles as Aria makes her finishing touches. In a final sweep, she grabs her silver clutch, wraps a silky scarf around her neck, and takes Bailey into her arms.
“Have fun,” Bailey says. “I bet Griffin will look great in a tux.”
Aria gives her sister a squeeze, then releases her. “My only goal is to make it out of there with a cute PR moment—oh, and make some money for the sweet animals, of course.”
Aria walks out, taking the steps carefully in her heels, and loads into her ride.
On the drive there, she mulls over what Bailey said about Griffin in the tux. The thought hadn’t crossed Aria’s mind until her sister mentioned it, but she doesn’t disagree. Griffin would probably look nice in a tux, but then again, that has nothing to do with her.
Aria pulls out her phone and starts jotting down ideas for song lyrics as the car slowly makes its way toward downtown.
Aria arrives first at the hotel and is snuck in through a back entrance that leads into a small hallway. Almost at once, the door to the room appears, and she’s ushered in by an event volunteer.
“We stocked a full bar with snacks from your requested list sent by PR,” the waiter says, folding his hands at his waist. “But there’s also a call button here if there’s anything you need that is not stocked.
Mr. Hayes should be here shortly.” He nods his head and ducks efficiently out into the hall.
Aria hates these lists she’s asked to send so places have the right food and drinks.
She’s genuinely flexible when it comes to that stuff, and it makes her feel like such a snob to make demands.
Rumor has it that some artists will demand candies be picked out of a mix for imperfections or beverages be flown in from overseas.
Taking a quick glance at the bar, it appears Griffin doesn’t fall into that category either. Much to her relief.
Then, with a gentle click of the doorknob and the swing of the door, the man himself appears. He stops short before fully entering the room, as if there’s some confusion over whether he’s in the right place. Aria smiles and waves, and he walks tentatively in and pulls the door shut behind him.
“Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t barging in,” Griffin says.
He wears a classic black tux, one that spans the gulf between his shoulders but tapers at his waist. His pants must’ve been heavily altered—his thighs thick and muscular.
“It’s not a dressing room, Griffin! Just a hangout spot for us ‘friends.’”
He smiles as he props his hands on his hips and takes in the room. “I hope it won’t be too painful getting through the evening together.”
“I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“Me too,” he says. “Assuming they only keep us onstage for a bit.”
Aria cocks her head, then slips onto a barstool. “Am I hearing a hint of stage fright?”
Griffin takes the lapels of his jacket and adjusts them, even though they don’t need any adjustments. “Guess I’m sort of a one-trick pony. I can play tight end, and that’s it for me.”
“Can I grab you anything from the bar?” Aria reaches over and takes a Coke for herself.
Griffin wanders over to the bar and slides behind it. “Hmm, the pickings are good, but in season, it’s pretty much water or Gatorade for me, as lame as it sounds.” He reaches over and takes the can of Coke from Aria’s hand. “Allow me?”
Griffin takes the scoop from the ice bucket, fills a plastic cup, pulls the can tab, and attentively pours the soda, monitoring the fizz level to make sure it doesn’t run over.
“You look like you’ve got some experience with sodas there.” Aria grins at him.
He’s quite the gentleman looking out for her like this.
You never know with celebrity types. Some of them are all charm while the cameras are rolling, making sure they’re only captured in their best light.
But behind the scenes—in a situation much like this—it’s upturned noses, demands being made, and all cold shoulders.
Aria feels her mood lift slightly. Maybe Griffin is the sort of person she wouldn’t mind being friends with after all.
“I come from a long line of health-conscious medical professionals, so let’s just say that when the chance came to get a soda, you didn’t let it spill.”
He sets a beverage napkin down on the bar and then places the cup on top.
Aria takes it and sips. “Thank you. This might be the best poured Coke I’ve had this year.”
Griffin pulls a hand to his chest in mock thrill. “Well, I’ll be.”
Aria giggles. “I don’t drink much of it either. It might come as a surprise, but the length of the sets I do onstage is like my own version of a football game. A dancing and singing marathon.”
“Oh, I believe it. Don’t forget I’ve been close to the action on two occasions recently.”
Aria nods. “I appreciate you playing along with this. I can’t see how it helps when you’re at the top of your football career, even if your publicist thinks it’s a good opportunity.”
He shrugs. “It’s all part of the gig. It’s funny—all of us go into it with a passion for something, but soon enough it starts to morph into something all its own.”
Aria nods. If only he knew how deeply she can relate.
Back when she was a teenager with a decent voice and unruly curls, a cheap guitar, and a relentless work ethic, she was razor-focused on the craft of making music.
She begged her parents for lessons and practiced as instructed as often as she could.
She played for free—begged to get a set in front of a crowd.
Sometimes when Aria looks back, she wonders if that’s the closest she’s ever been to the art of it all.
Back before it became big business. Back before she was a household brand.
“It’s all about the ‘brand’ nowadays.”
Griffin cracks open a bottled water. “Don’t I know it.”
“Though I guess these are problems I’m grateful to have.”
It’s Aria’s canned follow-up comment whenever she mentions any of the downsides of fame.
She is genuinely grateful for the opportunities she’s had, and she knows a line of aspiring musicians would gladly take her place.
Aria never wants to come across as being ungrateful.
It’s just that there are also real challenges to the fame, to becoming a brand. A brand that boxes you in.
“I hear you. It’s all right to acknowledge the bad parts too. I get it. It’s not all parties and fancy outfits. There’s real sacrifice that goes into it.”
Aria sucks in a breath, her reply already on the tip of her tongue. Griffin is right, and she has so much to add. But before she can get the words out, a knock comes at the door.
A woman wearing a headset peeks in, clipboard held before her at the ready. “Hi, there! Ms. Wilder and Mr. Hayes, we’re so thrilled you’re here, and we’re ready for your grand entrance.”
Griffin goes still behind the bar, his easy, down-to-earth demeanor evaporating. He tugs at his collar. “Yes, of course. What all is involved?”
“I’ll be there with you the whole way until you go onstage. And then just a natural and very brief exchange between the two of you—thank the guests, express your belief in the mission, and then we’ll roll the fundraising video on the big screen.”
The color leaks slowly from Griffin’s face as the woman describes the bit.
Aria reaches out and pats his arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the lead. You follow?”
Griffin nods.
“I’ve been training for this my whole career.” Aria winks at him before getting to her feet and walking with purpose toward the woman in the headset. When Griffin doesn’t budge, she waves for him to follow her.
It’s actually sort of cute to see him freeze at the mere mention of an appearance.
The woman begins power walking, clipboard bobbing, and Griffin takes a few loping steps to catch up. When he arrives at Aria’s side in the hallway, a hint of cologne arrives with him.
“Thank you. For taking the lead,” he says. “You’re such a natural.”
Aria smiles to herself. “It’s my pleasure.”
Nothing feels quite as satisfying as using her natural talents for good.