"Maybe I could sing 'Paris' in a higher pitch?" Maude suggested.
She was lying lazily on the orange sofa in the Creation Room early that Saturday morning in late February while Matt was at the piano. They had decided to meet earlier than usual that morning to finish 'Paris' once and for all and start on a new song. That proved to be a lot harder than anticipated. Even though Maude had rewritten the lyrics, Matt knew there was still something missing although he couldn't put his finger on it. Like the perfectionist he was, he adamantly refused to submit anything but perfection to James Baldwin.
"No, pitch isn't the problem. You're a mezzo. We don't want your voice derailing or that will be sloppy."
Maude yawned. She had spent every evening for the last two weeks in rehearsals. Ms. Tragent was stricter than ever much to Lindsey's delight. The role of Clorinda suited her to perfection. Lindsey was also learning Cinderella's part as her understudy, but Maude refused to feel bothered by it even though she was tired of feeling her breathe down her neck. Thomas as Prince Charming had spent hours the previous evening practicing with her even after Ms. Tragent had left the theater. Maude stifled a second yawn, but Matt caught it nevertheless.
"You're tired. And rightly so. We've been working on this song for two hours and the sun has barely started to come up. Why don't we go back to the cafeteria for some coffee and bagels?"
"I think I've had enough coffee for one morning. I've been on a daily dose of caffeine ever since rehearsals started. Thank goodness we haven't started recording yet."
"Recording is one of the best parts in creating an album," Matt said. "And Cenerentola is a fun, romantic opera. I'd think any girl would have fun playing the lead in a fairy tale."
"I'll enjoy it if I manage to get a full night's sleep before going on stage. I think I need to take a walk. I feel like I haven't seen the sky for weeks now," Maude said yawning openly.
"Tell me you've at least had a proper tour of New York."
"I've visited Manhattan with Jaz—"
"First of all, Jaz thinks Manhattan is New York, but that isn't true. Haven't you visited the other boroughs? Brooklyn? Queens?"
Maude shook her head.
"Did you even visit The Statue of Liberty?"
Same answer.
"Coney Island?"
"I haven't had time to visit all these places. I have so much to learn about music. New York can wait."
"No, it can't. I love the Baldwins, but they eat and drink music and sometimes forget that there are other interesting things in this life aside from it."
"Okay, I'll take next Sunday off and visit New York. Now can we get back to finishing this song? It's going to end up making me gag. We've tried it a hundred different ways: high, low, slow, fast. I'm sick of working on the same song over and over again," Maude cried out in exasperation throwing her scores up in the air. They floated in the air before falling limply to the floor like leaves falling from a tired, autumn tree.
"Okay, that's enough, Maude," Matt laughed. "When a singer starts hating their own song, it means it's time to take a break. Grab your coat and things. I'm taking you out."
"Where?"
"Do you trust me?" Matt asked, his gray eyes dancing.
"Absolutely not," Maude answered, crossing her arms.
"It doesn't matter," Matt replied, undaunted. "Grab your things. I'm kidnapping you for the day."
"I have rehearsal at six."
"That's fine. We have an entire day ahead of us, and we'll make good use of it."
Maude peered at him dubiously.
"I think I'm going to say yes," she gave in. "Only because I'm sick of staying cooped up in a room that feels more like a torture chamber than a Creation Room today. "
"I'll let that slide because you're tired. Know that no one makes fun of Violetta."
"Your Creation Room has a nickname?" Maude asked as she put on her coat and gloves. "If I weren't so tired, I'd be rolling my eyes right now. Let me guess. Either Violetta was the name of your first crush, or you're a fan of the Italian opera La Traviata."
Matt looked at her, visibly impressed. "I see you know your stuff. Your second guess was right."
"Compliments won't keep me from thinking that naming a room with a girl's name isn't ridiculous. And what's your car's name? Carmen?"
Matt laughed as he called the elevator.
"You'll thank me this evening after you've spent the time of your life."
"That depends. Where are you taking me first?"
Matt shook his head.
"No questions asked. Today, you follow me blindly."
"Do I look like the kind of girl who would blindly follow a random guy through the streets of New York City?"
"First off, I am not a random guy. Secondly, you do look like the kind of girl who could use a lesson on trust."
By then, they had reached the sidewalk. The air was chilly, and Maude tied her scarf a bit tighter around her neck. Catching a cold was strictly forbidden before the representation of La Cenerentola. Lindsey would be too happy.
The sun had barely come up, but the city was already full of life. Men carried dark suitcases, and women in stylish winter coats scurried along like ants in a gigantic ant farm, all of them knowing exactly where they were headed, no time needing to be wasted. Business men and women poured out of never-ending lines of yellow cabs that never had to wait long before new, hurried customers jammed themselves into the vehicles. It was Matt and Maude's turn to scramble inside a cab Matt had successfully hailed.
"Where are you headed?" asked the cab driver, barely looking at his passengers.
"Battery Park," Matt answered, dropping back against his seat.
The cab driver, who had a heavy beard that almost ate his entire face, peered in the rearview curiously, his small, diamond-shaped eyes fixing Matt. His tiny eyes suddenly seemed to explode out of their sockets.
"Hey! You're that singer. Matt!" he yelled excitedly.
Matt smiled calmly and nodded.
"'Call the Love Doctor cuz my heart is breaking'", the driver sang, completely off-key. "'Losing you, babe means losing everything.' Oh damn, my daughter loves you—"
"Not just his daughter, apparently," Maude whispered.
"Seriously, she drove me crazy with that song. Do you think I could get an autograph?"
They were at a red light, and the taxi driver was waving a crumpled ad for a pizza place in Queens in front of Matt's eyes. He laughed and took it.
"All right, what do you want me to write?"
"Tim, you're the greatest!" he said enthusiastically.
"Your daughter's name can't seriously be Tim."
"Okay, that one's for me," he admitted. "You can sign another autograph to Kim, my daughter. She'd better not throw me another fit for the rest of her life after this!"
They all laughed as the light turned green.
"So, we're headed towards Battery Park. Are you taking the ferry there? You guys doing some sight-seeing today?"
"Absolutely. Maude has been in New York for over a month and still hasn't seen all there is to this city."
"Aww, that's a shame. At least you've got yourself a great guide with Matt."
"I guess," Maude shrugged. She doubted "great" and "Matt" should be used in the same sentence.
"In a couple of months, you'll tell your friends you had the famous Maude Laurent in your cab." Matt said.
"Are you a singer too?" Tim asked excitedly.
"Well actually—" Maude hesitated.
"She is incredible," Matt cut her off. "She's a talented singer, songwriter, and pianist. We're working on her first album and with a voice like hers, she'll be the next sensation."
"You seem to be in good hands, Maude. It's important to have someone believe in you so passionately," Tim said. "I'll drop you off now. Have fun, kids!"
Maude and Matt made their way through the crowd to buy tickets for the ferry. She noticed the stares that converged towards him that he didn't seem to see or pretended not to see. He always seemed irritatingly at ease, as if nothing could get to him. Was he sincere in what he thought of her? Apart from James Baldwin, Maude wasn't used to having people believe in her. She had always believed in herself, but ever since she had arrived in New York, she felt in awe of everything she had to learn. But she wasn't afraid of hard work
"We're ready to board. Follow me," Matt called out, waving his tickets.
Hundreds of people started to board on the ferry. Maude followed Matt towards the deck.
"I hope you're not seasick," Matt said, leaning over the rail.
"I hope you'll be able to swim back to the shore if I push you over the rail," Maude replied.
"It would be such a tragic loss for the world if I were to drown. Picture the headlines 'Eighteen-Year-Old Pop Sensation Murdered by a Crazy Fan.'"
"Need I remind you that I am not a fan?"
"You made that perfectly clear, but that's not how the tabloids will see it."
The horn rang loudly announcing the departure of the ferry. Maude leaned against the rail to watch the boat slowly depart. She breathed in happily, the sea air filled her lungs, her eyes closed, her hands tightened around the rail. She opened her eyes again and peered in the water, the waves joyfully crashing against the steadfast boat, the wind murmuring in her ear accompanying the seagull's laugh.
"Music is everywhere," Maude said softly. "It is in the water, in the wind's hum, in the bird's cry, in the boat's horn. Rhythm surrounds us. That is one of life's greatest gifts."
"I agree. In a big city like New York, you can find inspiration everywhere. This city has a variety of beats but one has to take the time to listen."
"That's how I felt in Paris also. For the first time in my life, I heard the rapid pulse of the city. In Carvin, the pace is slow, almost lifeless. I felt constrained, bound."
Matt peered at Maude. Her face was calmly content, and he felt he had been right to whisk her out of the studio for a day.
"Don't think about Carvin today. Think only of the present. You and me. Here and now, okay?"
"You're the guide," Maude conceded. "And a great one at that according to Tim."
"Tim is a very intelligent man," Matt stated, a humorous glint in his eye.
"Except for his taste in music," Maude joked.
"I beg to differ."
As they laughed, Maude thought maybe spending a day outdoors with Matt wasn't such a bad idea after all. She glanced at his face as he looked afar and was almost amazed at how handsome his facial features were as if drawn by the hand of an invisible sculptor. Maybe she should get to know him better before dismissing him as an obnoxious, self-centered celebrity.
Her musings were shattered abruptly by an incoherent amount of squealing, crying, and screaming.
A large herd of ecstatic fans rushed towards Matt, pushing Maude savagely out of their way.
"Ouch!" she cried as she was rammed into the rail.
Of course, no one heard her. Matt was too busy taking pictures, signing autographs, and laughing with his female fans.
Maude turned away irritably, but was pulled back in when a pretty brunette thrust her camera forcibly into her hands.
"Could you take a picture of us?" she ordered rather than asked.
Maude glowered before shoving the camera back into the girl's hands, "Of course," she answered sarcastically.
Not that she cared in the least that a dozen girls swarmed around Matt, she told herself. She had just wanted to spend a calm, uneventful day discovering the city. She winced as she heard Matt laugh at her and very seriously pondered on different ways she could push him over the rail and still make it look like an accident.
"Look Maude," Matt called out, interrupting the train of her murderous intent. "We've arrived." He abandoned his group of fans who let him go reluctantly as he went to Maude.
Maude lifted her eyes to take in the beauty of the Statue of Liberty as the ferry approached Liberty Island.
The regal statue valiantly held up her golden torch, her body draped in a simple but majestic coppered toga, her face set in firm determination. Her crown glistened in the soft morning sun and imperturbable, she stood on her pedestal, watching the visitors rush excitedly out of the ferries to the land. Maude and Matt hurried out with the rest of the passengers. Maude had rarely felt such life surge through her as she raced to get to the top of the Statue. She hurried Matt along as well, who was amused to see her as eager as a child about to open her long-awaited Christmas presents.
When she arrived at the crown, followed by Matt, she stopped, breath taken. Although the air was chilly, a warm glow filled Maude as she took in the magnificent view that unraveled itself beautifully before her eyes. The city in all its splendor stood before her, separated by the sea but yet so close she could almost reach out to it.
Matt took his cellphone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of Maude, her face forever frozen in enraptured delight.
"Hey, you could warn me before taking my picture!" she cried. "It'll be worth a lot of money someday. I don't want it ending up in the wrong hands," she added slyly.
"Too late," he replied, snapping another shot while she protested. "You look great, don't worry."
"Give me that!" she exclaimed as she tried to snatch his phone out of his hand. They wrestled wildly for about five minutes before Maude managed, breathlessly, to grab the phone out of Matt's grip.
She instantly started snapping shots of him. He made an attempt at shielding his face.
"So, Mr. Matt, what does it feel like to be constantly harassed by the paparazzi?"
"Aw, you get used to it. It gets old fast. I just want to be a normal guy," he answered in a mock tone.
"I don't believe you for a second," Maude said. "I saw your face while you were taking pictures with your raging fan club. You love it don't you? The fame, the fortune, the admiration. Your pride wouldn't handle becoming a normal teenager again. Admit it, or you won't get your phone back."
"I'm not ashamed of admitting it. I do love it," he admitted. "You, on the other hand, have yet to admit that you are having a great time right now and how right I was to push you out of Soulville Records."
"I refuse to admit such a thing," Maude said, raising her head high. "Besides, the day isn't over yet, so there's still plenty of room left for you to mess up," she added, tossing him his cell nonchalantly.
"You're right, the day isn't over, and I'm starving. Let's have lunch. And I know just the place."