At No Time || Bruno Mars

22

"An interview? I've never done one before." Trystan, Elle Marie, Peter, Neal, and Roger sat in Mr. Benson's office. He'd just announced that to further promote Delusion's heightening success, they would need to do multiple radio and in studio interviews around Los Angeles. Everyone else in the room seemed to be at ease with the broadcast, even Elle Marie, who Trystan knew probably hadn't done many, if any, herself.

Seriously? Peter wanted to ask, but kept the inquiry to himself. He hadn't known any person in music who'd never been interviewed before. He wondered if Trystan's desire for privacy was even more tenacious than his own.

"What were they doing to you back in New York?" Mr. Benson teased with a perplexed look. "A producer like you should have been doing interviews since your first hit." It hadn't mattered, to Steve at least, whether or not Trystan went out to promote any songs. That had been up to the artist, she assumed, no matter the fact she had three number ones under her belt. Did people even care to hear what the producers or lyricists had to say? It was enough to make Trystan wish she had a pen to click.

"Steve never made it a point to make me do any . . . I don't even know the protocol for one."

"You needn't worry about that," Mr. Benson assured. "Producers and songwriters only have to talk about the song; artists are the ones who're hit with the hard questions." For the briefest moment, Mr. Benson glanced between Elle Marie, who sat beside Trystan, and Roger, who sat at the end of the table beside Neal. Roger didn't seem to notice, but Trystan could see Elle Marie shift uncomfortably beneath his gaze. Peter noticed Mr. Benson, too, and his mind wandered about Elle Marie and his friend's budding relationship.

"We have some set up for you later this evening. Promotion must begin immediately. Delusion is currently number fifteen on the Billboard Hot 100, but that Brittany chick–,"

Trystan chuckled, "Brit Magoo?" The blonde artist was a hit in London and was currently making her way into America's interest spectrum. Her spunky style was cool enough, but Trystan wasn't sure how long everyone would be accepting of it.

"Yeah, her. She's following close behind at number seventeen. If we don't get in more listeners, she could surpass us. And we at Vivacity can't let that happen, can we?"

They all chorused an agreement, though Trystan's stomach began to ache. Interviews seemed simple enough, but she was afraid of what to do if she couldn't answer a question or make her way out of one. She was private enough that the common people didn't know any of her business, but she knew interviewers loved to pry, especially when it came to female artists. She wasn't the best at diverting uncomfortable conversations and didn't want to embarrass herself if she tried to.

"Who are the interviews with?" Neal asked, and Mr. Benson explained they had some with local radio stations, and the name of one of them had Trystan nearly gasping.

"Rose Royce? As in the Rose Royce?" The radio host was an acclaimed figure and had been so for the past twenty years. He was a music visionary even though he wasn't an artist himself. He had the reputation of either making or breaking an artist from his interviews alone. He was hard-hitting and unafraid of any feelings he hurt. Trystan's inhibitions heightened.

"Yes, the media mogul Rose Royce. He was the one to reach out to us and ask for an interview with Elle and the rest of you. Something about wanting to meet with the masterminds of this song." He winked, and Trystan saw from her peripheral Peter give him an impressed nod.

"Well, I'm not one to brag or anything . . ." Neal swiped his nails across the front of his shirt, evoking the groups laughter.

"I hope you all do brag. The song is deserving of all the praise it gets, and who to promote it better than the ones who made the song?"