Page 62 of Semblance

Shadow looked at me pensively. “Has your father raised you well?”

“What kind of question is that?” I asked.

“Well has he?”

“Of course he has. My father was the greatest person I’ve ever known.”

“Then technically you have a lot of your father in you, isn’t that a fair statement to say?”

“Well…yes I suppose.”

I was confused by his line of questioning but allowed him to continue. “Who do you want to impress more,” he began, “Those snooty wine drinking, Wagner worshiping mother fuckers who masturbate to the sounds of their own voices,” he paused, “Or do you want to impress your dad?”

The answer was obvious. “My dad of course; it’s always my dad.”

“Then impress yourself,” Shadow said. “As you said, there’s a lot of your father in you. Compose a song that you’re proud of and that’s more than enough for you to succeed in this world. Pleasing a bunch of soul-sucking assholes will turn your hard work into a soulless product. However what you’re doing is art, and in the end, you—and your father—are the only opinions that matter.”

He was right. All this time, I’ve been killing myself trying to imitate the works of others in order to please a bunch of wine-sniffing music aficionados who knew nothing about me, nor my work. Why the hell was I spending so much time pleasing these people? Why did I need to place my happiness in the hands of others?

“I think you’re on to something,” I said with a smile.

“Good,” he replied. “Now do you remember the agreed method of payment for your condo?”

“Well yeah, you want me to record the most difficult piano pieces ever written,” I said, “Which is fair payment. I really shouldn’t whine about it.”

“I’m going to suggest altering the terms of your payment,” Shadow said. “Instead of mastering those songs—which may lead to finger arthritis—I want you to record five original songs for me instead.”

“Like a demo?”

“Yes,” Shadow said. “Record me a demo of five original songs, written by the Golden Virgin.”

“We really have to stop using that nickname. I’m neither golden nor a virgin.”

“I like the name,” Shadow said. “It has a nice catchy ring to it. It’s mysterious and intriguing; perfect for the stage.”

“I have issues with the virgin part of it. I’m never allowed to have sex?”

“Not in public.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s fair I suppose.”

The waiter returned, bringing us our meals that looked—and smelled—amazing. I wasn’t hungry before but the rich aroma of golden curry was enough to have my mouth screaming for a taste.

I lunged for my fork and was ready to dig in, but paused when I saw Shadow reaching for his wine glass. He raised it in my direction.

“A toast to a great day, and to our second date,” Shadow said.

“Can I take a bit of my food first?”

“And here I was trying to be romantic.”

“Fine, fine,” I said, grabbing my glass and tapped it against his. “Cheers.”

I savored every single bite of my meal, the foreign spices of the rich and creamy curry dancing on my tongue—an ensemble of flavors mixed together harmoniously.

Shadow seemed to be enjoying his food as well, taking healthy bites of his fish, which also smelled phenomenal.

As dinner began to wind down, I decided to pick up where our conversation left off.

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