Page 84 of Until You Say Stay
“I know! But I’d never experienced it before. Not like that.” I take another sip of coffee. “And Mare, it wasn’t just the physical stuff, though that was incredible. We talked for hours. About everything. His childhood and the adoption and his relationship with his brothers. My music and what I want for my future. It felt so natural, like I could tell him anything.”
“That sounds perfect,” Maren says softly. “So what’s happening now? Are you guys together? Like actually together?”
“Yes!” The word bursts out of me, too loud and too excited, but I don’t care. “We talked about it and we both want this. We’re going to figure out the long distance situation and just make it work.”
“Lark!” Maren grabs my hands, squeezing them. “This is amazing! I’m so happy for you!”
“I know!” I’m laughing now. “Jack Midnight is my actual boyfriend.”
We sit there for a moment, both grinning like idiots, and I feel this bubble of energy building in my chest. “Okay, I have way too much energy to burn off right now. Gym before work?”
“Deal!” Maren’s already standing, pulling me up with her. “Let’s go. I want to hear more Miami stories while we’re on the elliptical.”
I laugh, following her to grab my workout clothes. Tonight feels impossibly far away, but at least I have Maren and endorphins to keep me busy until Jack gets back to Dark River. Until I can see him again and kiss him and remember that this is real now, not just some perfect weekend I dreamed up.
The Black Lantern is slowing down after a busy dinner rush, mercifully easing into that comfortable lull between chaos and closing time. A few regulars are playing Settlers of Catan in the corner with occasional shouts of “I need wheat!” and “Stop blocking my longest road!” Some folks up from Seattle are huddled at a table going over hiking maps while nursing IPAs. And me behind the bar doing the closing side work I should’ve started an hour ago.
I’m rolling silverware, but my mind wanders between thoughts of my music and Jack, each fighting for equal attention. He should be back in a few hours and coming straight to my apartment after. I’m practically vibrating with excitement, that restless energy that comes from wanting something so badly, time feels like it’s moving through molasses. I have a new song I want to work on before he gets here, so the second I wrap up this shift I’m heading straight home to my guitar.
My phone buzzes on the bar top and I glance at it absently, expecting another Instagram notification or maybe my mom asking if I’ve eaten anything besides bar food this week. Instead, Maya Stone’s name stares back at me from an email notification.
My hands freeze mid-roll, the fork clattering against the bar with a sharp metallic sound that makes me wince. I set down the half-finished bundle and wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans before picking up my phone with shaking fingers.
“You good over there?” Maren asks from where she’s restocking beer in the cooler, her voice muffled by the heavy door.
“Yeah, just…” I tap the notification, watching the email app load with agonizing slowness.Come on, come on. “Maya from Tidal just emailed me.”
The cooler door swings shut with a solid thud and Maren’s head whips around so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t give herself whiplash.
I open the email, my eyes skimming so fast over the words that I have to go back and reread the whole thing twice. This can’t be real. This is not actually happening.
Lark,
Following up on our last talk. We’ve been tracking your streaming numbers and social media momentum and have been very impressed.
I know this is short notice, but we’d love to fly you out to LA to meet with our team next weekend. It gives us a chance to sit down in person and discuss your sound and vision more in depth. After getting to chat with you at the label party, we’ve decided we have serious interest in moving forward. Would love to discuss in person what that would look like, and potentially get you in a recording studio to do some demos after the meeting if we decide we’re a good fit.
We have connections to a producer in Seattle that would be perfect for getting some initial recordings done. Full transparency: we’re looking at several artists right now, but there’s real interest in what you’re building. This trip would help us figure out if we’re the right partners to help you break through.
My assistant will reach out with travel details. Let me know if you can make it work.
Best, Maya
I read it again because surely I’m misreading something. The words can’t possibly say what I think they say. LA. Studio time.
Maren appears behind me trying to read over my shoulder, practically climbing onto my back. “What does it say? Tell me!”
“They want me to fly to LA,” I manage, my voice coming out high and squeaky. “For a meeting to discuss moving forward. And possibly record some demos!” The words tumble out in a rush, barely coherent.
“Lark!” Maren’s squeal is so loud the Catan players look over with annoyed expressions. She grabs my shoulders and shakes me, bouncing on her toes. “This is huge! This is everything!”
“I know!” I laugh, the sound coming out slightly hysterical, and I nearly drop my phone, fumbling to keep hold of it. “I can’t believe this is real!”
“Itisreal!” Maren pulls back but she’s still grinning like a maniac, her eyes shining. “You’re going to LA!”
“It’s absolutely terrifying, but I’m going to shove that down deep and deal with it later.” I rub my face with both hands, trying to breathe normally.
I wish Jack was here right now. I want to tell him, want to see his reaction, want him to pick me up and spin me around. But he’ll be back tonight and I can tell him everything then.
