Chapter 46 Aria
Aria
A call from Aria’s agent first thing Monday morning is never a good sign.
Aria knows that means people have been talking over the weekend, which also means that it’s about a topic whose importance has been elevated to critical.
She only needs to watch the call come in on her phone to know this is about the new record.
“Lay it on me,” Aria says.
Aria is out walking the trails at a park, Bailey at her side and her ball cap pulled low over her face.
Occasionally she’ll get recognized, but more often than not, the power walkers with whom she shares the trails have their earbuds in place, their arms pumping, and their eyes set on finishing their laps.
“Don’t you know I just about ate Gerald for breakfast with the way I just chewed him out,” Monroe says.
Aria laughs, her breath pouring out into the cold air in a white cloud.
“I don’t know who he thinks he is sending me demanding emails on a Sunday morning, but I set him straight.”
“He’s following up on the album already? It hasn’t even been two weeks.”
Monroe sighs. “I totally agree. But technically, the contract stipulated that it should be delivered today.”
“Since when have my deadlines ever actually been deadlines?”
In the past, Aria churned out songs with ease, and representatives from the label reviewed them as the initial versions were complete.
They loved all of them, so even when she went over her formal deadline to wrap up the last few songs—the ones that gave her the hardest time but often ended up being her greatest hits—no one batted an eye.
In fact, the lack of true deadlines was something they’ve all previously joked about.
“You just have to start feeding them stuff. Gerald’s obviously getting nervous that you’re blocked somehow, that you’re not going to be able to deliver.”
Aria grunts. “How rude.”
In truth, he’s not that far off. Sure, she’s come up with a few songs like the football player–theater girl one.
Plus a couple she has muddled together into something passable—good, not great—something that Gerald might rubber stamp, but something she would despise performing on tour.
But she has tried. It’s simply that when Aria attempts to write the songs they’re asking for, it’s as if her body just won’t comply.
Like her soul has decided that she’s ready to evolve, so it won’t let her fingers run over the piano in the same melodies it has for years.
It won’t let her voice sing a song that doesn’t also come from the heart, one that it tells her she’s already done before.
“So, what do you say? When can we get something over? Nothing fancy, just something raw to show them you’re working, that they will be able to put out the album on time.”
“I’ll get them something by Wednesday.”
“You’re a queen,” Monroe says, then hurries off the line.
Aria slips her phone back into the deep pockets of her sherpa fleece coat. Bailey looks on curiously from beside her.
“Gerald starting nonsense already?” Bailey asks.
“No rest for the wicked.”
Aria picks up the pace, and Bailey matches her, the trees surrounding them left only with the barest of leaves, the ground firm below them. The sky is overcast, no hint of blue, despite the lack of rain predicted.
“How is it going down there?”
Even though it’s Bailey asking, Aria keeps her work close to her chest until it’s ready to share.
She doesn’t like giving play-by-plays or talking too much about the work.
Maybe it’s a fear of “jinxing” it or maybe it’s the desire to allow herself to change her mind on things, but Aria prefers to wait until a full raw version of a song is ready before sharing it.
It’s another reason it was so unusual to have Griffin by her side that time in the studio.
“Not as well as I would like it to be going. I feel like I’m caught in between. In between what they want from me and what I want to do. But even what I want to do feels fuzzy.”
“I’m sure it only helps to have Gerald nipping at your heels.”
“Exactly. My voice is evolving—I know that. But I need time to fully find it and mold it. Worldwide Records just wants me to be a pop music factory.”
Bailey rubs Aria’s back, and when their eyes meet, she presses her mouth into a concerned line.
“I feel like I’m starting to disappear.” It feels like a relief to admit it out loud. “Like I’m being lost inside this Aria Wilder persona that was once a version of me. The persona that fits me less and less the more time passes.”
“Surely there’s a way forward.”
Bailey doesn’t push, and in the quiet that follows, Aria wonders for the first time if maybe moving forward with music isn’t the way.
Maybe all of this struggle is proof that she should quit while she’s ahead.
She’d have to return certain payments that she received from the contract, but it wouldn’t make a dent on her lifestyle.
Financially, she’s already set for life.
It would mean creating a rift between her and the biggest music label in the country, however, and she’s constantly reminded that there are thousands of aspiring artists who would be more than happy to take her place.
Aria tries to imagine a life for herself without music, and the only thing she can see is a blank slate.
Admittedly, her heart does pinch at the thought of leaving the industry behind, never again feeling the roar of the crowd, the buzz of a new album release, the beautiful exhaustion of a tour completed.
But then again, decoupling from the industry wouldn’t preclude her from making music.
In fact, historically artists have gone off the map, then reemerged when they were ready to redefine themselves—some more successfully than others.
Aria can’t make sense of it, and even as her feet pound the dirt below her, she doesn’t reach any clarity.
She can’t help but think of “Until You Came Along” and Griffin.
At two o’clock this morning, Aria awoke and had such a moment of clarity about the melody, she typed her idea into her phone.
New lyrics poured from her, and she jotted everything down.
That song is a light in the dark for her right now, but it’s also unlike any of her other hits.
Those she could readily put together, shine up, and send off to Gerald and his cohorts with confidence.
All of those were about an imaginary person, maybe who she thought she should be, maybe who they wanted her to be.
Maybe they were just open-ended enough to let the fans superimpose themselves as the main character.
But this time, the song about Griffin is as good as the script of her heart read aloud.
Aria says she wants to do this, be real and raw in her music, but it’s still not easy.
She’s lived with walls around her for a reason—because when she’s let people close enough to all of her, they’ve hurt her.
Not to mention Griffin is still MIA, and Aria hasn’t received so much as a text back.
Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way, but is that reason enough to hold back?
Aria keeps walking. Considering all of these new and risky things is sending jitters through her, and the ground below her is a comfort. She breathes in the fresh air and reminds herself that she’ll find her way. Even if it takes a bit of fumbling around first.