Chapter 19 #2
I’m rolling silverware, but my mind wanders between thoughts of my music and Jack, each fighting for equal attention.
He should be back in a few hours and coming straight to my apartment after.
I’m practically vibrating with excitement, that restless energy that comes from wanting something so badly, time feels like it’s moving through molasses.
I have a new song I want to work on before he gets here, so the second I wrap up this shift I’m heading straight home to my guitar.
My phone buzzes on the bar top and I glance at it absently, expecting another Instagram notification or maybe my mom asking if I’ve eaten anything besides bar food this week. Instead, Maya Stone’s name stares back at me from an email notification.
My hands freeze mid-roll, the fork clattering against the bar with a sharp metallic sound that makes me wince. I set down the half-finished bundle and wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans before picking up my phone with shaking fingers.
“You good over there?” Maren asks from where she’s restocking beer in the cooler, her voice muffled by the heavy door.
“Yeah, just…” I tap the notification, watching the email app load with agonizing slowness. Come on, come on. “Maya from Tidal just emailed me.”
The cooler door swings shut with a solid thud and Maren’s head whips around so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t give herself whiplash.
I open the email, my eyes skimming so fast over the words that I have to go back and reread the whole thing twice. This can’t be real. This is not actually happening.
Lark,
Following up on our last talk. We’ve been tracking your streaming numbers and social media momentum and have been very impressed.
I know this is short notice, but we’d love to fly you out to LA to meet with our team next weekend.
It gives us a chance to sit down in person and discuss your sound and vision more in depth.
After getting to chat with you at the label party, we’ve decided we have serious interest in moving forward.
Would love to discuss in person what that would look like, and potentially get you in a recording studio to do some demos after the meeting if we decide we’re a good fit.
We have connections to a producer in Seattle that would be perfect for getting some initial recordings done.
Full transparency: we’re looking at several artists right now, but there’s real interest in what you’re building.
This trip would help us figure out if we’re the right partners to help you break through.
My assistant will reach out with travel details. Let me know if you can make it work.
Best, Maya
I read it again because surely I’m misreading something. The words can’t possibly say what I think they say. LA. Studio time.
Maren appears behind me trying to read over my shoulder, practically climbing onto my back. “What does it say? Tell me!”
“They want me to fly to LA,” I manage, my voice coming out high and squeaky. “For a meeting to discuss moving forward. And possibly record some demos!” The words tumble out in a rush, barely coherent.
“Lark!” Maren’s squeal is so loud the Catan players look over with annoyed expressions. She grabs my shoulders and shakes me, bouncing on her toes. “This is huge! This is everything!”
“I know!” I laugh, the sound coming out slightly hysterical, and I nearly drop my phone, fumbling to keep hold of it. “I can’t believe this is real!”
“It is real!” Maren pulls back but she’s still grinning like a maniac, her eyes shining. “You’re going to LA!”
“It’s absolutely terrifying, but I’m going to shove that down deep and deal with it later.” I rub my face with both hands, trying to breathe normally.
I wish Jack was here right now. I want to tell him, want to see his reaction, want him to pick me up and spin me around. But he’ll be back tonight and I can tell him everything then.
The kitchen door swings open and Jayson pokes his head through, looking between us with raised eyebrows. “Did someone just say LA?”
“Yes!” Maren announces, turning toward him with the enthusiasm of someone sharing news about their own success. “Meetings with the label people!”
I can’t suppress the ear-to-ear smile that’s making my face hurt.
“Holy shit!” Jayson’s whole face lights up and he pushes through the door fully, wiping his hands on his apron. “That’s incredible! When do you go?”
“Next week,” I say, still trying to process it myself. “This is crazy. Fancy LA meetings with actual record executives who want to talk about my music.”
“You’re going to crush it,” Maren says firmly, gripping my shoulders. “This is what you’ve been working toward.”
The Blue Room disaster is still fresh in my mind, stage fright the ever-looming monster waiting to sabotage me at the worst possible moment.
I’ve been practicing at home, doing the visualization thing my therapist suggested ages ago.
Playing through entire sets in my living room like there’s an actual audience there.
“You’re talented as hell, Lark,” Jayson adds enthusiastically. “It’s about time everyone else figured that out.”
“Thanks, you guys.” I laugh, feeling tears prick my eyes. Happy tears this time. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”
A loud timer dings from the kitchen, the sound cutting through our celebration.
Jayson’s face changes immediately. “Oh shit, the flatbreads. I completely forgot.” He’s already backing toward the kitchen. “Gotta check those before they burn. But Lark, this is amazing! We’re celebrating later!”
He disappears into the kitchen as a customer approaches the bar, an older guy I recognize as a regular who always orders the same wheat beer.
“I got this,” Maren says immediately, squeezing my arm. “You go reply to Maya and say yes to everything. Go!”
She’s already moving toward the guy with her best customer service smile, and I sink onto a stool at the end of the bar. My phone feels heavy in my hands, Maya’s email still glowing on the screen.
I can’t believe this is real. This is my shot. The one I’ve been working toward for years, through the bad marriage and the worse divorce and all the self-doubt Brandon planted in my head that I’m still trying to weed out.
LA meetings with a real record label. People who believe in my music enough to fly me out there. I’m terrified. But I’m also more excited than I’ve been in years.
And I’m not going to let fear hold me back anymore.