Chapter 38 Aria
Aria
Aria waits until the very last moment to sign on for the virtual meeting on Wednesday afternoon.
After letting one too many emails from the label sit unanswered, they called a meeting for “updates on the status of the next album.” Aria’s agent assured her that all the executives want is confirmation that she’s working on something that fits the bill and that it will be delivered quickly.
Apparently they’re all spooked by Aria’s silence on the matter.
The screen breaks into four quadrants when Aria enters the chat from her laptop in her studio. In the top left sits Gerald from Worldwide Records. Beside him is Kelsey from PR, and Aria’s agent, Monroe McHenry, is beside her on the bottom left.
“Aria, hello!” Gerald leans in closer to the screen, giving a zoomed-in effect on his thick mustache, the glare of the screen reflected in his glasses.
Aria waves. “Hi, everyone.”
Kelsey waves back professionally. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, black cat-eye glasses in place. Not a kernel of nonsense to be had.
Monroe’s face is framed in thick, curly brown hair, and her steely resolve doesn’t crack on account of a warm welcome. There’s a reason she’s known as a master negotiator in the business.
“Thanks so much for making time for us today,” Gerald says after a brief pause. “I understand you’re busy at work.”
Aria looks back into the camera.
“I can assure you that Aria is hard at work—as she always is—but it’s kind of her to entertain this distraction,” Monroe says. “We’ll keep it brief, of course.”
Aria and Monroe already had a sidebar in preparation for this conversation, and Aria is prepared to share clips of the music she’s been working on—even if the pickings are slim.
Monroe had said, “Just give them enough to satisfy them for now. Once you fulfill the obligation for this album, we can renegotiate for the style you’re wanting.
That or find another label if Worldwide won’t play ball. ”
“I can tell you guys that I’ve been hard at work, and I have some interesting stuff to show you today. I’ve taken a few liberties with the melodies, and I’m excited to share it.”
Aria clicks play on a sample clip she compiled this past week. The tone is moodier than her usual fare, including an unusual smattering of synthesized church bells, but the lyrics are the love song Gerald and his cohorts want.
Kelsey bobs her head enthusiastically, and Monroe keeps her stonewall of a face still.
The short clip ends.
Gerald’s face puckers, and his eyes dart around as if he’s searching for words. “I’m not sure this is what we agreed upon. None of this should be experimental. It should be the same thing we’ve always done.”
“None of it’s a final track,” Monroe says. “We all know how much it can change once it’s produced with beats and effects.”
Aria nods. “This is very raw. And to be fair, you guys were the ones who wanted the meeting, Gerald. It doesn’t sound like what we agreed upon because it’s not ready.”
“It does create concern over what material will be delivered. If you’re having a block of any kind, we’re here to support. You know we have the industry’s best songwriters on hand—and their lips sealed with an airtight NDA—so there’s no need to suffer in silence.”
Aria bites her tongue. The majority of the suffering she’s doing in the studio right now is at the hand of Worldwide Records, the very people strong-arming her into a record she never planned to create.
To most people, it would be obvious: Forcing an artist to paint with strict direction doesn’t exactly allow for the work to become their greatest personal expression.
“She doesn’t need, nor does she want hired help,” Monroe says. “Aria, please let me know if I’m speaking out of line.”
Aria nods. “She’s right. I appreciate the sentiment, but the best way I can be supported right now is to not be on the receiving end of near-constant follow-ups. I hardly imagine that you’d do your best work either with your boss breathing down your neck.”
Gerald sighs. “My primary concern is making sure the music is the genre and style agreed upon in the contract. We’ve been flexible and understanding, but we won’t budge on this piece: We want commercial Aria Wilder that fans love.
There’s no reason to reinvent the wheel when it’s already taking us to the top of all the charts. ”
Aria smiles, but inside she fumes. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” doesn’t exactly inspire artistic expression.
If she’d followed this logic, Aria would’ve stuck to the bar stage route as soon as she started making decent money.
That could’ve worked for a long while. It afforded her a nice living, a fun lifestyle.
But if she’d never pushed to get into a true recording studio, she would have missed out on a great majority of the opportunities she’s been afforded.
“Message received. I will do my best to please—as always.” Aria tacks on a winning smile.
“All right, well, I think that’s everything, right?” Monroe says.
Gerald nods curtly, clearly unsatisfied with the lack of assurance given. “Please keep us updated, Aria.” His words almost sigh in the manner they escape him, like they’ve soaked up his disappointment.
Aria nods. “Yup! Thanks, everyone. Have a great day.”
She hits the Exit button rapidly and slams shut the laptop.
How could Gerald not like that clip? He’s not a “creative,” but he should be able to see the appeal in a fresh take. Even purely from a business perspective, opening a new Aria Wilder thread could mean a whole spool’s worth of potential profits.
It’s not that Aria even has a problem with her old music.
She still loves it and stands proudly by it.
But it was her style in her early twenties, and she kept with it for almost a decade.
Now, coming up on thirty, it doesn’t feel authentic anymore.
Aria isn’t the same woman she was at twenty-one or twenty-two years old.
And she shouldn’t be. Not if she’s growing and learning and evolving.
If Worldwide keeps her locked within that box she built years ago, Aria fears she’ll end up looking like that forty-year-old mom who tries to wear the same fashions as her daughter. Like someone who is still chasing their high school peak.
Aria pushes the laptop aside and sits down at the piano. She plays the basic melodies of her original hits, and it feels like visiting an old friend. Could she find a second life in them? Aria plays around with them, but quickly she hits a wall. She throws her head back and a groan escapes her.
Maybe she simply isn’t cut out for this industry anymore. Not if they can’t support her growth. Maybe she’s just not as talented as people think she is if she can’t make this work.
Another album, the same but with some differences should be an easy order.
If her insides didn’t scream every time she tried to make it happen.
Aria gets up from the piano and paces the studio.
Her walls lined in charts, awards, and accolades feel like prying eyes as they watch her pace in her discomfort.
She’ll go track down Bailey soon for a heart-to-heart.
Even when there’s no easy solution, Bailey always makes things feel better. But Aria’s mind also goes to Griffin.
The feeling of making music with him here was so energizing, like the studio had been filled to the brim with the possibility he poured in.
His belief in her was an engine that hummed inside her as she worked.
Aria drops back onto the piano bench and runs through the main melody of the song she started working on with Griffin.
It’s like slipping into her own skin, like finally being honest about who she is, the woman she’s become over the past eight years of stardom.
Aside from Bailey, there’s really no one else in Aria’s life who makes her feel more like herself.
Griffin never makes demands of her like the ones she just got on the video call; he accepts her as is and encourages her to lean into that.
Aria felt like she got another glimpse of Griffin’s shine when they were texting on Sunday, but then he just sort of ghosted her.
It wasn’t a big deal, just a clarification message about doing a post together, and maybe there was some question over whether he needed to respond or not.
Maybe he assumed it’d go through Mike? But Aria noticed the emptiness that arose, and then stuck around, in the wake of his silence.
Before the injury, he would have replied, even sent extra messages, marked it with a response emoji if nothing else.
Aria stopped by Griffin’s place unannounced yesterday, hoping to talk him into going shopping at the home goods store with her, but she was unable to convince him. Even when she mentioned the mobility scooter, he wasn’t sold.
He put on a smile for her. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Come on. We can even look for some throw pillows for you! No respectable adult has zero throw pillows.”
“Maybe another time. I have PT in a little while.”
Aria suspected from the way he said it that Griffin might have been stretching the truth about his schedule conflict, and she couldn’t help but wonder if pre-injury Griffin would have done the same.
Surely their partnering on something soon will bring them closer together. Forced fun could be a solution.
In the meantime, it’s difficult to ignore the way life feels far less satisfying without Griffin Hayes tucked close by her side.