London Boy | Jamie Flatters

Thirty-five

February 2023

"Y-you what?" I question, stuttering slightly as I take the headphones off my ears. Today was the day I brought my songs into show to the record label and, eventually, find an artist who'd want to sing them. When they asked me to step into the recording booth, I didn't think much of it... I mean, they just wanted to hear the songs live, right?

    What I didn't expect was for them to announce that they didn't think someone else should sing my songs. They wanted me to sing them.

    "We think you should record these yourself," The woman, Angela, says. She's in her forties and way cooler than me, with hair chopped into a pixie cut and eyeliner sharp enough to leave a scratch. Beside her, Dan, the other producer, nods in agreement.

    "No, I couldn't," I laugh uncomfortably, unsure what to say.

     "Eden," The woman motions for me to step out of the recording booth, patting the seat beside her. I slowly walk out, "we've been looking for talent like yours for a while," she explains, "someone new and fresh that girls everywhere could relate to, and we think you've got what we're looking for. You could be a star."

    I laugh because it's comical to imagine myself like that. Growing up, I always admired pop musicians like Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift, but I never imagined I'd be like them... They were glamorous and powerful, the kind of women who captured the room. I was just me, Eden Bliss.

    "We're serious," Dan says, not laughing, "Eden, we've been doing this a long time. We know a star when we see one, and that's you. We believe we can make you the next big thing."

    I keep waiting for them to laugh, to get to the punchline and reveal they've been playing with me all this time, but they don't. Dan and Angela both watch me seriously, meaning every word they say, "I-I just don't know what to say," I admit, shaking my head.

    I expected to walk in here, sell my songs and leave, not get offered a record deal.

     Angela smiles, a friendly smile that calms my nerves a bit, "say yes," she says, but not in a pressuring tone, letting me know it's up to me still.

    I want to. I've never pictured it before, a life where I was famous, singing my songs for people that aren't Trinity or Jamie. For a brief moment, I imagine what'd it be like to hear other people sing my songs back to me, for other people to relate to my lyrics and love them so much.

    But when I picture all of that, I'm not the girl on the stage or the album covers. Because it just doesn't make sense, there's no way I could do something like that.

    "Can I think about it?" I say instead of answering, tilting my head, "It's a lot to take in."

      Reaching over, Angela squeezes my hand, "Of course, take all the time you need. You have our numbers."

    Dan smiles at me as I stand up, nodding his head, "It was great meeting you, Eden. I really hope you take us up on our offer."

    I smile at them both as I walk toward the door, nodding, "Thank you."

     I need to talk to someone to have someone tell me that this is as ridiculous as I think it is. I rush to my car, notebook clutched in my hand as my mind races, thinking over everything that just happened in the last hour. I press call once I'm finally sitting in the driver's seat, muttering under my breath, "C'mon J, please answer."

    It feels like an eternity until the Facetime call finally connects, my boyfriend's tired face greeting me. He's probably just gotten in from work and is changed into a hoodie, sitting on the couch in the living room of his flat, "hey, you." Jamie smiles, "You done your meeting?"