A French Song in New York

by Anna Adams

  She joined in, puzzled and groggy.

  “Now let the critique begin. We’ll start with the newcomers,” Jason said. “Jazmine?”

  Jazmine straightened her back.

  “It was, um, fascinating. Just, maybe a little long,” she said. “I mean, no dialogue for like half an hour. All that rain. It was a little du ... I mean ...”

  The others frowned. One of the girls wearing glasses had a deeper scowl than the rest.

  “You didn’t get the symbolism,” the girl said. “It was so obvious that the message I wanted to pass along was­—”

  “Oh, you’re the director?” Jazmine squeaked, slumping into her seat.

  “Duh. Didn’t you get my invite? Screening of Jenna Nitron’s The Egostist and the Petrichor.”

  “I invited Jazmine last minute,” Jason said apologetically. “She was the girl I was talking to you about. You know, I mentioned her music videos.”

  “Oh, right.” The girl rolled her eyes and Jazmine sunk deeper into her seat.

  “It was a really good movie,” she tried again.

  “Maude,” Jason said hurriedly. “You’re an artist. What’s your opinion?”

  “Well, urm, you see ...” Maude looked at Jazmine, who pleaded with her eyes. The message was clear, ‘Don’t embarrass me.’

  Maude could not use the language barrier as an excuse for her lack of enthusiasm Still, being French had its perks.

  “It reminded me of a French movie I love.” Maude tried to think of a title that might resemble the film she’d just watched. None came to mind.

  “I know! The symbolism reminded me of La Rivière! I’m so glad you saw that, too,” a girl with huge glasses and a hat exclaimed.

  “Right! That ... one,” Maude agreed. She had no idea which movie the girl was referencing, but thought it safer to approve.

  “Such a compliment! Nice to have a French girl, an expert in French movies, here with us. What about you, Cynthia?” Jason asked.

  Both girls looked to the eldest Baldwin daughter as their last hope.

  “It was brilliant. The symbolism of the rain against the window and the petrichor, it was a clear criticism of individualism in our society. The dying plant, like wow!”

  Maude and Jazmine looked at each other, then at Cynthia, who continued to praise the film for its ‘audacity’ and ‘uncompromising look at the decadence and failures of postmodernism.’

  She used those expressions and more three-syllabic words much to the enthusiasm of the young director who nodded energetically.

  The discussion continued with her peers praising her, while also mentioning clever, constructive criticism.

  “The brutality and viciousness of that rain should have been expressed in a different way at the end of the movie. And really, the dialogue might have started further along still.”

  “Further than thirty minutes into the movie?” Jazmine whispered into Maude’s ear. “Is he kidding me?”

  Maude yawned and nodded along to the student’s critic.

  “Party!” someone yelled.

  “What’s going on?” Maude asked.

  “This was the first part of the evening. The screening of my student film,” Jenna said. “The second part is the screening of a cult classic. This time it’s Pulp Fiction. In between, we eat.”

  “Thank God!” Jazmine jumped up and pulled her cousin along.

  Soon, the living room filled with newcomers who’d avoided the first part of the evening, and a table of vegan food for the art students and junk food for the others.

  Shortly after, the party was in full effect and the girls tried to find a suitable director for Jazmine’s videos.

  After speaking to two students, who displayed little interest in her project, Jazmine went to the bathroom. The unlocked door led her into believing the room was unoccupied when it was not.

  That’s where Jazmine met a medium-sized, young man with skin the color of brown nougat, a left dimple, and masses of dark, wavy hair. His style was without pretention, his dress casual. He radiated a sunny disposition, even as he executed an act as mundane as washing his hands.

  He took no offence at the intrusion. Instead, he chuckled and said, “This would make for a great comic scene in a movie.”

  “Oh no, not another student film director,” Jazmine moaned. “Isn’t there any way to escape you guys for just five little minutes.”

  “I’m not one of the pretentious ones, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m just plain old Dev.”

  “Is that why you didn’t come to the student film screening?”

  “I heard there was no dialogue in the movie. I wasn’t about to spend half my evening staring at rain going down some Brooklyn drain.”

  Jazmine’s snort was one of pure glee.

  “You’re not a tortured filmmaker?”

  “I prefer to torture pretty girls with my really bad jokes.” He dried his hands.

  “I guess I’m not pretty enough, because you haven’t tried one on me.”

  “The night’s just getting started.”

  “Perhaps I’ll actually laugh at your jokes. Or I’ll lie and say they’re good. After the evening I’ve had, I need a laugh. And a director with a sense of humor.”

  “You’re looking for a director?”

  “It’s not super deep art or anything. It’s for music videos.”

  “Oh, I see. You want me to play a hot girl in a bikini in your rap video.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. You’d look great in a bikini, but I’m in a rock band.”

  “I can be in a bikini for a rock video, too.”

  Jazmine smiled. “Now I get those bad jokes you were talking about.”

  “Bad jokes? I’m giving you my best stuff here.”

  “Your best bad jokes. I’m flattered.”

  “I don’t have a script. What’s a director without a script?”

  “It’s Jenna’s The Egotist and The Petrichor,” Jazmine laughed.

  “I can’t be that bad.”

  “I’m a liar. Do you really want me to answer?”

  “I hope you’ll be honest about the quality of the music videos I’ll direct.”

  “You want to direct my videos?”

  “If you want me.”

  “I do! I mean, you’re good, aren’t you?”

  “If I say I’m the best, you’ll think I’m bragging. If I say I’m bad, you won’t want me. There’s no way I can win.”

  “I’ll trust in the fact that you’re in Jenna’s circle.”

  “You hate her work.”

  “The movie was boring, but it was really well filmed! I’ve got plenty of ideas for the videos.”

  “Oh boy!”

  “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  “I was already interested when Jason said he had a friend who needed a hand to film music videos.”

  “If only I’d known I didn’t need to sit through Jenna’s film.” Jazmine fished through her purse. “Here’s my card. Call me and we’ll set up a date. A work date,” she said with a coy grin.

  He handed her his card.

  “Can’t wait to meet your band ... Jazmine Baldwin,” he read the card.

  “And you’re Dev Sunil. Nice to meet you.”

  Jazmine walked backwards, eyes on him as she pushed the door open. She left with a wave of the hand and went to find Jason. After a lengthy search, she found him in the kitchen putting vegan chicken-flavored chips on a plate.

  “Thanks for that!”

  “For what? The movie? I know you hated it.”

  “For telling your friends about me.”

  “That was nothing. You deserve to make it.”

  “I don’t know if anyone deserves it, but I really want this.”

  “You’ll get there.”

  “There aren’t any guarantees.”

  “I believe in you.”

  His eyes flickered with admiration and Jazmine grew uncomfortable.

  She looked away.

  “I’
ll go get the girls. Though I’ll probably have to pry Maude away from Chris Lemming. She would’ve kept her eyes open during the screening if he’d been there. She’s such a fan girl!”

  “I don’t think he minds.”

  Maude was no longer a fan girl, and did not mind when Jazmine pulled her away from the handsome actor. In fact, she thought Chris Lemming was nothing like the characters he portrayed.

  Once the three girls were outside waiting for an Uber, she let out a sigh of disappointment.

  “I don’t understand. Why play the cute, nerdy, zombie superhero if you don’t know a thing about zombies or science?” she asked.

  “It’s called acting!” Cynthia laughed. “You know zombies don’t exist, right?”

  “But he’s totally typecast as a nerd. He’s played in two movies and three TV shows. Three! In all his shows, he’s a nerd. He just told me Pluto was a planet.”

  “You thought Jason was a real vampire.”

  “I didn’t,” Maude grinned. “That was only wishful thinking. But I was right in saying he was a sweet guy.”

  “He is,” Cynthia agreed.

  “You know who’s sweeter? Dev, my future director.”

  “Here she goes again,” Cynthia sighed.

  “No, here you go again with your big sister lectures.”

  “How many times are you going to screw up your professional relationships before you learn not to date the guys you work with?”

  “I’m not going to date Dev!” Jazmine protested.

  “Maude?” Cynthia turned to her cousin in despair.

  “You promised after Jonathan broke your heart that you’d never do it again,” Maude chided.

  “And I won’t. I’ll wait until after we’ve finished filming our videos. See, I learn from my mistakes.”

  “The only thing you learn is how to make new ones,” Cynthia stated matter-of-factly.

  Jazmine shrugged.

  She firmly believed that a life without mistakes was a life without purpose.

  Chapter 6

  A STUDENT’S PROGRESS relies heavily on the degree of tenacity the teacher displays.

  Maude was a stubborn, young woman and, as such, was determined that her student would succeed, even if it meant incurring her wrath every morning at five a.m. before she went to school.

  That October morning, in the guest room, the heavy, pink curtains blocked out the sunlight. Holding a plate of freshly baked pancakes in her right hand, Maude pulled the curtains back with the other. The flooding light stirred Grace, but did not awaken her.

  Maude had not slept in that room in years. She’d not forgotten how comfortable the mattress was for someone used to sleeping on rough beds for a long time. Still, she was on a mission, and not even the sight of a peaceful, drooling teenager would deter her from her goal.

  “Rise and shine,” Maude cooed in Grace’s ear.

  “Out,” Grace mumbled. She turned over and pulled her hair over her eyes.

  “That’s right. Out of bed.”

  Maude waved the pancakes under Grace’s nose.

  “Smell these. Uncle James made them just for you.”

  Grace opened an eye.

  “I’m not hungry. I want to sleep.”

  “Come on, Grace. It’s great to do your vocal exercises in the morning so you start your day with a nice, warmed-up voice. That’s how I love to do it.”

  “You do it then,” Grace grumbled.

  “Fine!”

  Maude walked over to Grace’s window, set the plate on the window sill, and warmed up her voice.

  “Miu, miu, miu, miu, miu, miu, miu, miuuuu.”

  “Maude!” Grace cried out, pushing her covers down.

  “Grace, we don’t have much time before the auditions in December. We still have a lot to do. And I want us to start working on Lilac’s song, Pretty Face, this evening, once you come home.”

  “I don’t care about your stupid exercises, I don’t care about your stupid songs, and I certainly don’t care about anything at five a.m!”

  “Fine! You just sleep some more. But you won’t make any progress the way you’re going. And you better get up soon, because I have to take you to school. Remember?”

  “How can I forget? I’m the only loser who still has a nanny to take her to high school like a six-year-old.”

  “That was the conditions for you to be able to live here. I thought you wanted this!”

  “What I want is sleep!”

  Grace slumped back in her bed and pulled the covers over her head.

  Maude rushed out of Grace’s room and hurried down the stairs like a tornado.

  She found Uncle James in the kitchen cleaning the pans he’d used to make breakfast and slammed the plate of pancakes on the kitchen counter.

  “I gather she isn’t a fan of pancakes.”

  “She’s unreasonable!”

  “Five a.m is unreasonable.”

  “You’re taking her side?” Maude crossed her arms in a manner that looked like Victoria, head bobbed to the side. In the five years she’d known her aunt, Maude had adopted many of her traits, and their resemblance was deeper than the DNA that they shared.

  “There’s no side to be on. She’s not even here,” James pointed to the empty doorway as proof.

  “But-but, the audition is in eight weeks. She doesn’t even know the lyrics, her voice isn’t properly trained and if she doesn’t get her act together, she’ll miss her big break!”

  “What if this isn’t her big break?”

  “You can’t say that. Uncle James, you have to help me. There might not be another chance.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know. Chances like this come only once. If I hadn’t done everything to go to Paris that day, five years ago, I’d never have met you. I’d still be with the Ruchets and I’d never have become a singer.”

  “History doesn’t always repeat itself.”

  “But I have to be her very own ‘Uncle James.’ Don’t you see? Every child in the system should have an ‘Uncle James’ and ‘Aunt Victoria’.”

  “I’m really flattered here, but Grace isn’t you.”

  “Don’t you think I realize that? When Cordelia woke me up at dawn for private lessons, I got out of bed.” Maude crossed her arms, leaned against her chair, and huffed.

  “Good for you. But you can’t apply Cordelia’s techniques and just expect them to work. You’ve got to adapt according to the student you have standing in front of you.”

  “Maybe,” Maude mumbled half-heartedly. “But I can’t guarantee that my tools will work as well as yours or Cordelia’s.”

  “Maybe that’s the real problem. You don’t trust yourself.”

  “I can’t say I’ve had an extended experience as a teacher.”

  “I get it. You’re learning. But you know what’s a sure way to succeed?”

  “What?” Maude asked eagerly.

  “Follow my advice.”

  Maude laughed gingerly and rose. “OK. I think I should wake her up. She needs to go to school or ...”

  James frowned.

  “Oh, right. I’ll let her sleep a little more. Maybe I should let her go to school on her own.”

  “I said adapt, I didn’t say let her have her way on everything.”

  “Thanks, Uncle James.” Maude placed her elbows on the table and cupped her face with her palms. “Tell me, I never was such a drama queen, right?”

  James thought of Maude’s failed La Cenerentola concert, her squabbles with Lindsey Linton, her drama with Matt, and shook his head.

  “Not once.”

  MAUDE HAD NOT MET WITH Mr. Soderline since he had told her that she would sing the lead in Violet’s Voice.

  She’d agreed to see him that afternoon after he’d sent her a text message with the word URGENT in capital letters.

  That afternoon, she went to Broadway, and when she entered the prestigious Wolholen Theater its beauty stunned her.

  The interior was decorated w
ith Tiffany lighting and ceiling panels, rich woodwork, and expansive murals created by realist painters.

  She found just one element jarring.

  Thomas Bradfield sat on the stage. His blue eyes softened the harshness of a face that had experienced much discontent. Maude could only see traces of the handsome boy she’d met five years earlier.

  She had to remind herself that he was no longer the friend who had helped her during her first few months in New York. Since they’d last seen each other at the NAM Awards, he had made it perfectly clear he regarded her and their past friendship with resentment.

  Reminding herself that he would only have a small part in the musical, she walked over to the stage.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked stiffly.

  “Meeting Soderline. Same as you.” He smiled and Maude was taken aback. He’d glowered at her more times than she could count since the scandal exposing their fake relationship had made headlines and damaged his career.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “I did.” He neared the edge of the stage, took her hand and helped her up onstage. “We’ll both be singing in the same Broadway musical after all.”

  Her hand remained in his until she tugged it out of his resisting grip.

  “You’ve only got a minor role.”

  “Maybe not so minor after all.”

  Before she could ask what he meant, a man with a round belly, big cheeks, and an impeccable suit hurried inside the theater.

  “Ah, good, good, good,” Mr. Soderline said. “You’re already here. Good, good.”

  “What’s going on?” Maude asked.

  “It’ll be in tomorrow’s edition of Hollywood Buzz and I wanted you to know before it was announced.”

  “I don’t like where this is going,” Maude mumbled.

  “There’s been some changes in the lead roles. Thomas will be playing Lorenzo, the chef.”

  “He’s playing my love interest?” Maude glared at Thomas who met her anger with a big smile.

  She got down from the stage and faced Mr. Soderline. “You said you were going to hold auditions for that part.”

  “Glitter Records is putting much more money than planned into the musical. They have some ... demands,” Mr. Soderline explained. He gave Thomas a look full of mute ire.