Chapter 16 Aria
Aria
Aria locks herself in her studio on Monday morning, promising to use the hours leading up to The Late Night Show filming to work on her new album.
It would be more fitting to call it “the label’s album,” seeing that they’ve already sent over a list of concepts they’d like to see reflected in the lyrics.
She sits on a stool, a foot on the support beam, and her guitar held across her chest. She’ll shower later and get dressed up in one of the dresses her stylist sent over for The Late Night Show filming, so for now it’s sweatpants, thick socks, and no makeup.
Before she starts any work, Aria pulls on her favorite cozy cardigan, part of her writing ritual.
She strums at the guitar, and bit by bit, she puts a melody together.
It’s reminiscent of a hit from two albums back, “Love Found.” Aria sighs.
She knows the record execs will love it, so she forges on, but the song feels hollow.
Her heart squeezes at the thought of trying something new, like it’s a friend she misses already.
Eventually, she reminds herself. Eventually.
Aria gets up and sets the guitar back in the case, and in exchange, she picks up her songwriting notebook.
She pages through, and it’s disappointingly bare.
Didn’t she jot down ideas last week? Then she remembers that she’d tried, but her mind had been a blank.
In fact, she spent some of that time thinking about the publicity project with Griffin.
She smiles. Aria watched his game yesterday, flipping around the channels until she found the familiar gold and red uniforms front and center, a commentator mumbling low.
Bailey had taken the opportunity to poke fun at her. “You’re really committed to the part. Watching his game and everything?”
Aria doesn’t mind sports, but she’s also never been one to pick that over a rom-com.
“They might ask me about it tomorrow on Late Night.” Aria hadn’t taken her eyes from the screen because she knew Bailey would be able to sniff out the rest: Aria was genuinely intrigued by this guy. “I’m committed to selling it.”
“And it’s working.” Bailey grabbed her phone and tapped around.
“See? I just opened three different apps, and clips and pics of the two of you are within the first page every time. Obviously the algorithm knows I’m an Aria fangirl, but I never see anything football related.
It’s like you’re bringing worlds together. World peace, here we come?”
Aria scoffed. “Yup. One color-by-numbers song at a time.”
Bailey had put a loving palm to Aria’s back. “Hey now. Go easy on yourself. Even if it’s not what you want to keep doing, they’re great songs. Songs that bring lots of people fun and joy in a world that can be harsh.”
“You’re right.” Aria had been trying to remind herself that her loyalty needed to lie with her fans. They made her what she is, and she should give them what they want.
“And when the moment strikes for you to debut your new sound, they will all be there, still screaming for Aria Wilder.”
Aria’s stomach had dropped. But would they be?
Perhaps even more so than writing an uninspired album, Aria worries about letting down her fans.
Part of her believes that it’s possible to wed the two: making music that feels creatively satisfying while also pleasing the fans.
But the more the label pushes for her to keep doing more of the same, the more she wonders if she’d just be letting everyone down by switching gears.
Aria and Bailey watched the game all the way through, and even once the Wardens were handed a loss, Griffin walked with pride from the field, shoulders back and head held high. He waved to the camera and stopped for fans.
Not that it was Aria’s business to feel this way, but she was proud of him too. There really was so much more to him than the game.
Aria is pulled back to the present by a sudden thunderbolt of inspiration. A game. Of course.
He holds his head high even when they lose the game,
She stands by with pride and loves him just the same.
Even when the chips are down, he’s the one to call,
Because life isn’t easy wins and gains after all.
A football player love-interest song would be exactly the fans’ speed.
Aria did a cheerleader–football player song two albums back, so she’d need to switch it up with the female part.
Maybe a theater girl? She is also keenly aware that she’d have to make enough adjustments to erase any possibility for speculation that her song is about Griffin now that the two are connected.
Although, who knows? If the two of them keep getting along as well as they had thus far, maybe Griffin would even spill about a past relationship and let her write a song about it.
He’d already been so easygoing and surprisingly open.
Bailey’s voice echoes in a shout down the stairs to the studio. “I’m feeding you before you start getting ready. Want chicken salad?”
“You are an actual angel fallen to earth.” Aria slaps her notebook shut, hops up, and stows it.
“Fallen to earth? Doesn’t that mean I got kicked out of heaven?” The half-powered offense lining Bailey’s words is a telltale sign that she’s smiling through her complaint.
“I’m not sure that’s the only situation, but for clarity’s sake, let’s say you were sent to earth. For me.”
Aria crosses the room to the foot of the stairs and looks up to meet Bailey’s eyes before taking the steps two at a time. “For my sanity. For my health. For keeping my life anything but the sad, sad thing it would be without you.”
Bailey props a hand on her hip and raises a brow. “You’re sweet-talking me for chicken salad?”
Aria reaches the top of the stairs and shrugs. “Don’t I get more credit than that? You remember the label offered a chef service in order to speed up the arrival of the next album, right?”
Bailey tips an invisible hat. “They can just put me on the payroll.”
Aria and Bailey melt into laughter, and Aria pulls her little sister under her arm.
Together they head for the kitchen and assemble plates à la Chef Bailey.
Bailey has put the chicken salad on a slice of baguette with a serving of fruit on the side, and Aria’s stomach grumbles.
Despite the hunger pangs, she hadn’t even thought of lunch.
Bless Bailey Wilder. Aria would be lost without her.