Against All Odds

Chapter One

A/N: All characters in this story are fictional and made from my own crazy imagination.

"London," Ida breathes, grinning wide. I take a seat across from her, leaning over excitedly. The old pink table my aunt has had for the past fifteen years creaks loudly as my elbows dig into the plastic.

"London," I reply, awed myself. London. London is the key to everything. London is where all my studying, all the tireless hours educating myself have lead to. My brand new agent, Joe Howard, informed me just minutes ago that I will be performing a Soprano solo at the Royal Opera House in London, England and all I can do now is shake.

Shake because everything is working out the way I'd always dreamed. The way my mother always dreamed. Ida reaches over, running her hand over my dark waves sweetly.

"I always knew you could do it, Mia."

"It's a good thing they needed to fill a spot."

"I bet they saw the tape of you at the Metro... Gosh, you're going to blow them away. I wish I could be there to see it."

"You can, Ida. I can save up. I'll be there in a month."

"No, absolutely not. You save up every dollar for the trip. Knowing Al, he's probably going to be late paying you."

I smile, sighing. "I actually think I'm going to talk to Al about quitting."

She looks momentarily shocked but after a moment, nods. "If you're sure. I know you hate cleaning for them."

I stand up. "Well, it was only a temporary job. Besides, I have to make sure I get this solo is perfect. My whole career could be based off of this one night. It could change everything for me... for us."

I rub her shoulders, bending down behind her chair. "You've worked at that dry cleaners way too long. And the reception job. And the other reception job."

"It's paid the bills."

"Yes and I'm grateful." I lean down, kissing her cheek. "But I don't want you to have to work anymore."

"Honey, I'm fifty-six years old. If you want to get famous and take care of me, by all means, I'm not gonna stop you."

I chuckle, shaking my head and straighten. "Well, there's no time to waste then."

...

"I have tonight, Ida. Just tonight left before I leave, and I still feel like I'm not making that note correctly."

"You sound perfect," Ida says, sounding uninterested. She's endured three hours of one song. I lift the kettle of cold water, setting it down onto the warmed stove. "And if you keep landing those notes, you're going to lose your voice."

I massage my throat, rolling my eyes. When the door bell rings, I hold up my hand. "I'll get it."

"Good. This issue of Good Housekeeping is far too good to deter myself from," she utters. I open the door. "I have to figure out how to make this carrot-"

My hand tightens on the knob as I stare at the familiar man in our doorway. My first instinct is to slam the door in his face. However, I know I can't do it.

"John," I breathe.

My ex-boyfriend of five years smiles softly, his young, masculine features stun me momentarily. "Mia."

"What are you doing here?" I turn slightly, looking back at my aunt, who is glaring as if she's seen the devil.

"I need to speak with you," he says, moving to try and get into the apartment. I shake my head, closing the door enough so he can't get past.