Two Lovers

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by Edie Bryant


  She was cute. Sandy brown hair, this innocent face with bright blue eyes. She was attractive, I wouldn’t deny that. But I saw cute girls all the time, and they didn’t generally make an impression on me.

  But Lindsay did. I tried to play it off like she didn’t, but I could feel myself having a bit of a crush on her.

  I wouldn’t admit it or give into it, though. She was straight (no matter how badly my grandma wished she wasn’t) and she was young. She was just as young as all the other women I saw in the clubs. And she was a server.

  Not that I had a problem with her financial status. I would never judge her for being a server. It was just that I used to serve once, and I remembered the restaurant atmosphere. When you served, all of your coworkers seemed to party. You got off late, got drinks, did late night partying to get rid of the stress of the day.

  I’d openly admit that when I was serving, I spent a lot of my free time drinking and hooking up with people. I could only assume that was the position Lindsay was in.

  I couldn’t be with someone like that. It wasn’t where I was in life. Even if she wasn’t straight, she was just too young for me.

  Besides, there was no real reason she should have made an impression on me. She was just another cute girl; I saw them all the time. In LA, most women I met in the industry were damn good looking.

  Maybe she left an impression on me because of the role she had in saving my Grandma Mary. She was a hero—I couldn’t view her as anything but a hero. She saved her fucking life. I’d never be able to repay that.

  It didn’t help that it was clear Grandma Mary wanted us to date. She swore to me that we’d be perfect together. It was weird, because she had never pushed me to date anyone before. She wasn’t the kind of grandma who tried to hook you up with anyone they met.

  So if she said we’d be good together, she had a good reason for thinking so. And Grandma Mary knew me better than anyone. She seemed to know Lindsay pretty well, too.

  But I didn’t. I didn’t know her at all. And I wasn’t going to sit around and fantasize about a cute kid who I knew nothing about just because she saved my grandma’s life.

  Unfortunately, though, that was exactly what I ended up doing for the next week. No matter how hard I tried to divert my attention from Lindsay, in my spare moments, she kept coming to the forefront of my mind.

  But when our Saturday meeting came around, I was determined to hide this. I wouldn’t flirt with her; I wouldn’t show in any way that I found her attractive.

  It wouldn’t be fair to her, anyway. I meant what I said: I thought she was a good musician. And I didn’t want her thinking I brought her in the studio because I wanted to hit on her.

  I was in a position of power here. I had what she wanted, a record deal. And I was older than her, more experienced than her. It was easy to fall into a situation where I took advantage of her, even if I didn’t mean to, because she thought that dating me was the only way to a record deal.

  Which of course, it wasn’t. I wouldn’t make business decisions based on my romantic endeavors, anyway.

  I was sipping a coffee in my office on Saturday morning when I heard the familiar ding that told me someone was outside the front door of the studio and was attempting to ring their way in.

  Normally, the studio was open during the day and my secretary let me know if someone was here for me. But not on the weekends. We didn't do much business on the weekends, although the studio was always open to whoever needed it.

  I headed out to the front door where Lindsay was waiting for me, bright-eyed and smiling… If not a little nervous.

  “Hey there, Lindsay,” I said in a sincere but professional voice. “Go ahead and follow me, we’re going to head straight to the studio.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, but I could tell that made her anxious.

  Poor thing. Most people were anxious when they came in to give a demo. But on top of the usual nervousness, she had to deal with the fact that our last encounter was pretty awkward.

  I didn’t mind, naturally. I actually thought it was adorable when she accused me of trying to ask her out on a date. But I was sure she didn’t see it that way.

  I led the way to the studio and held the door open for her to walk in. “Come on in, have a seat.”

  She did, her fingers fidgeting around the CD she was holding as she sat down.

  “So, this is my demo…” She handed it to me anxiously as she took her seat. “I wasn’t sure what I should bring so I have a USB thumb drive too, if that’s easier.”

  “This should be fine, thanks,” I said as I grabbed it from her.

  I stared down at the CD, trying to will myself to keep this meeting as professional and scheduled as possible. But for some reason, just looking at Lindsay, a rush of emotions came over me.

  I took her CD, grabbed the nearest trash bin, and dropped it in.

  Her jaw dropped.

  “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong, I—”

  “Oh, no, no!” I said quickly. My point wasn’t to make her more nervous. “Not at all. But I’m not going to listen to this.”

  “Oh, okay… Um, why?”

  “Because I hear these all the time. I hear a lot of polished, pop-rock songs from people who’ve spent way too long trying to produce something they think a record exec wants to hear. But the truth is, I don’t want to hear whatever you polished and perfected at home. I want to hear you, singing here live, performing your heart out. I want to see you as the real musician you are.”

  “So you want me to just… play a song?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Not just a song,” I told her. “I want you to play me your most emotional song. The song that’s dearest to your heart. I know you have one, every musician does. And I want you to sing it to me like you feel it.” I nodded toward the studio room. “Just go in there, pick up a guitar, and sing into the microphone.”

  She took in a deep breath. “So just… play?”

  “Just play,” I insisted.

  She nodded and walked over to the rack of guitars on the wall, picking out a Taylor 310ce before stepping into the studio room and taking her seat.

  I sat down at the mixing board and pressed record, just in case I wanted a copy of this for later.

  “Take your time,” I told her over the speaker, because I could see she was trying to psych herself up to play.

  She nodded, took in a deep breath, and began playing.

  There’s someone there hiding away

  Take your hands off your face

  There’s no more running today

  Stuck in a world out of place

  From just the first verse, chills ran down my back. She sang so beautifully, the emotion ran through me. But it was nothing compared to the way she put her heart into the chorus.

  To jump in a wall

  Never find the other side

  The other side

  By this point, my jaw had dropped.

  The city that sank in the sky

  The town that floats by the sea

  You wanted it all for yourself

  But you’re not who planted the seed

  To jump in a wall

  Never find the other side

  The other side

  She repeated the chorus once more before she drew in a deep breath and stopped.

  I was actually worried she was going to be too nervous to actually do what I wanted. Not many people could pour their heart out into a song on command like that. I just wanted to see what her best effort was.

  But her best effort absolutely blew me out of the water. She sang more intensely than I imagined she could. She was an artist, through and through. That was immediately evident.

  “Absolutely amazing!” I said to her over the speaker. “Come on back out.”

  I could see her fidget again as she hung the guitar back up and sat down in the chair in front of me.

  “That was absolutely amazing,” I told her. “The singing, the guitar playing, and your lyrics we
re stunning. Where did this song come from for you?”

  It was a personal question. It was something I wouldn't normally ask in a meeting like this. But then again, I wouldn’t toss out the demo of someone who had come in and ask them to pour their heart out, either. Professionalism had gone out the window.

  Not in the sense that I was flirting in any way—I wasn’t. But I supposed this was still a slight abuse of power. I wanted to learn more about her—she was intriguing to me—and this was my way to do it. Even if I wasn’t planning to pursue the relationship any further.

  “You know, I really don’t know. That sounds like a cop-out answer, but it’s the truth. One night I was online and I was reading about what they call ‘free association writing.’ Where you’re supposed to just put the pen to paper and force yourself to not stop writing, and this came out. Honestly, I don’t even quite understand it myself. All I know is that it really makes me feel something… Intensely.”

  “It shows,” I told her.

  This was a mistake. I should have kept things routine in this meeting. Learning more about her wasn’t helping me. I only felt more intensely interested in her.

  She was intriguing in a way nobody ever had been before. I didn't mean to say I’d never been interested in a woman before, I had, of course. And I’d had several long relationships before.

  But none of the women I’d dated before had the mystique that Lindsay did. She was someone I didn’t quite understand. Which, of course, meant that I wanted to, badly.

  “Lindsay, I genuinely believe you’re very talented. How long have you lived in LA?”

  “I moved out here as soon as I could, when I turned eighteen.”

  “Wow, so you’ve known you had this passion for music for a long time, then?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve known since I was a kid that this was what I wanted to do.” She laughed. “Of course, back then I had a lot more confidence that I’d make it as a musician.”

  “And you don’t now?” I asked.

  “Well, I haven’t for a long time. All it takes is moving out to LA to realize you really aren’t much more talented than Joe Shmoe who’s also trying to make it big. This city is full of unfound talent and sadly, many of them never get found. I was starting to believe I would be in the forever unfound group.”

  “But you didn’t quit,” I pointed out.

  “No, I didn’t. Although honestly, I did consider it. I have thought about quitting. Maybe going back to school, cultivating my social life, doing something that isn’t music. But I just can’t will myself to do anything else. Every year that I fail, I just throw myself further into my work.”

  “Cultivate your social life?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “How would quitting help you do that?”

  “Well, I don’t really have any time for friends or relationships. All my time is spent making music.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. You're just so young. I expected that you were still going out, meeting people, living life to the fullest and all that.”

  She laughed. “No, I've never really been that person. And honestly, I don’t feel all that young at this point.”

  “How old are you again?” I asked.

  “Twenty-five.”

  I laughed. “Oh, God, don’t tell me that doesn't feel young, please. It makes my thirty-five years sound a lot worse.”

  She chuckled. “Okay, it’s still young. But you know how it is in the music industry. A lot of people get started very young, so it’s daunting.”

  “I understand.” I nodded. “It is rough to get a late start. But hey, better late start than no start, right?”

  “Right,” she agreed. “As long as I can get that late start.”

  “You can,” I told her.

  She paused, staring at me seriously. “…What?”

  “You are getting your late start. I want to sign you.”

  “What?!” She gasped. “Are you serious?! You want to sign me?”

  “Absolutely! You are a fantastic musician and an intriguing human being.” The latter was unnecessary to mention, but it fell right out of my mouth. “I think you’d be a great addition to our record label.”

  “Seriously, that’s so amazing, I… Wow! I just can't believe it! Uh, what comes next?”

  “Well, I’ll have to have some contracts drawn up. Then I’ll set you up with a producer. You’re going to have a lot of creative freedom here, though. If your songs are always as good as the one you just showed me, I trust you’re going to make a beautiful album.”

  “Holy shit… I mean, sorry! Excuse my language but… Fuck.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Seriously, though, this is a dream come true for me. I just can’t tell you I… Is this even real life?!”

  “It is, I assure you.” I told her.

  “I really wasn’t sure if this day would ever come and now that it’s here… It just feels so good. I haven’t felt this happy in… Well, maybe ever.”

  “I’m glad I could help with that,” I said, trying not to sound too personally invested. But I totally was.

  She paused for a second, the smile fading from her face.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “This is a weird question, I know… but this isn’t just because I saved Mary, right?”

  “No, absolutely not. I’m being honest with you. I think you’re genuinely talented.” Although I could be biased because I also thought she was genuinely likeable.

  “Okay… Good.” She sighed.

  “Why? Would you turn down the opportunity if it was?” I teased.

  “No… Well, I don’t know. I just want to really feel like I got here because of… Well, because of me. Because of my own talent.”

  “And you have. Trust me,” I assured her.

  She smiled softly. “How is Mary, by the way?”

  “She’s doing good. She’s been discharged from the hospital, and she’s back at home. She’s bounced back quickly. I think she even said she wants to stop by the restaurant to see you next weekend.”

  “Did she really?” She seemed a little taken aback and gave an awkward smile. “Does she usually talk about me?”

  “Well, she has since the hospital. That’s for sure. Apparently she really likes you.”

  She tugged at the bottom of her shirt sleeves. “Uh, has she been really pushing you to, like… date me?” she asked.

  “Oh yes,” I said. “Very much so. But, don’t worry, Grandma Mary doesn’t determine my romantic partnerships,” I assured her.

  “I just hope she hasn’t made it awkward for you,” she said. “She’s, uh, a little pushy.”

  “Tell me about it. But no, nothing Grandma Mary could do would make me feel awkward anymore. She basically helped raise me, so I’m quite used to her. Besides, you’re the straight one here! If anything, I hope you haven’t had to feel awkward.”

  “Oh, no, it hasn’t been. If anything, I just feel bad about disappointing her. She’s so eager about setting us up!”

  “Don’t feel bad! She thinks she knows what’s best, but she doesn’t take a lot into consideration. Like, uh, the fact that you don’t like women.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, that’s kind of a big thing, isn’t it?”

  “Very.”

  “I don’t know if I should ask this… Maybe I’m getting too personal, so excuse me if I am,” she began cautiously. “But what do you mean by she raised you?”

  “Well, I mean it quite literally. Since I was fifteen, I’ve been in the care of Grandma Mary. My parents passed pretty suddenly and she took me in when they did.”

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said softly, looking like she regretted asking.

  “Don’t be. It’s been two decades, and I’ve come to peace with their life and death. Not that I don’t miss them both. I do, of course, very much. But there’s no point in dwelling on it. Especially when I
had Grandma Mary, who was an amazing mother figure to me. She helped me so much. I wouldn’t be where I am today without her.”

  “Wow. I always knew she was a sweet lady, but I didn’t realize the extent of it. The heart attack must have been really hard on you.”

  “It really was. I just… I can’t imagine my life without her. I know I should, since it’s going to happen one day. She’s old, and she can only live so long. But now, she’s all I really have. Like you, I’ve kind of lost my social life to my work. And obviously, I don’t have any other family, so losing her would be quite the blow. Plus, I always kind of imagined that when the time came when she had to leave me, I’d have a family of my own. Or, at the very least, a woman that I loved deeply. And that love would help me through her death, painful as it may be.”

  “Wow…” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry, that was intense. Way too emotionally intense for a casual business interview.” I was embarrassing myself and really wished I could take back the last few minutes.

  “No, I appreciate your honesty.” She said. “I… People don’t really talk to each other like this, have you noticed that?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean, we make small talk. We talk about things that don’t matter. As a society, we don’t bring up the hard shit like this. We keep these kind of thoughts private and… It’s so exhausting, isn’t it? Constantly hiding your pain, your worries, your deepest fears? It’s just refreshing to be able to talk to someone who is this frank about their life.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” I admitted. “And, if I’m being honest, I’m not usually this frank at all. I don’t know why I’m being so open with you right now. I guess you’re just easy to talk to.”

  She gave a cold chuckle. “No, I’m not, though. Not at all. I’m a pretty closed off person and I’m constantly reminded of that. Even my own coworkers don’t talk very openly with me. It’s weird, sometimes they’ll be gossiping in the kitchen and as soon as I come in, the conversation turns more professional. I don’t know. I’m just not very approachable, I guess. The one person who does talk to me freely is Mary.”

 

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