C H A P T E R F I V E
I hold up a coat hanger with a simple little black dress before tossing it to the side and holding another dress in front of my body that has a little more flair. I don't completely love it for the dinner tonight either, so I throw it on the grown and reach for something else. Perhaps I don't want to wear a dress, but even a skirt and top combination. But choosing two things is a lot harder than making your mind up about one simple thing.
When Nathan messaged me the details about tonight, I googled the unknown place to find out what kind of attire I needed to wear. I think after reading the description and looking at the photos, it's made trying to find something even harder. It's the type of place that can be dressed down to casual or upwards to a formal event. I just don't know what type of gathering you'd title this under.
This is just a new stress to the many I'm already dealing with at the moment. Since stepping out into the spotlight, what I wear has suddenly become something I'm very conscious about. Looking perfect all the time is a new job in itself because I have to constantly keep up with styles, wear new and different designs when all I want to do is go down to the studio in a pair of comfortable pants and a baggy t-shirt to record music. Now I have to look like I'm attending the Oscars every day.
My phone stars ringing and it instantly sends a gush of nerves floating through my system. I bet its Nathan chasing up my appearance, but I'm nowhere near ready to leave my apartment. I should have kidnapped Lucy when I had the opportunity.
Without looking at the caller ID, I answer my phone and press the device against my ear and wait for their voice to respond.
"Hey Riley," greets Ava.
"Ava, what's up?" I ask.
"The label want to know where your new demo song is. They've agreed to give you an extra night if you spend it in the studio working, or just send it in now if you've finished with it," explains Ava.
"I sort of have nothing." I bite my lip.
"Then why you were out shopping today, the label isn't going to be happy. You need to keep your head under the radar instead of constantly popping up for silly things like this, Riley. There's only so much I can help you out with." I know that voice, its Ava getting stressed about stuff again.
"Ava," I cut her off from the pre-thought out rant.
"Yes?" she responds.
"I'll send something before I go out to dinner tonight, don't worry."
"I'm worried. Don't stay out too late because you have an interview tomorrow," she reminds me.
"Mother dearest, where would I be without you?" I chuckle. "I'll sort something out and then message you. Don't worry," I calmly inform her.
"I will always worry about you, Riley," replies Ava.
"And that's why I trust you with my career. Strict yet motherly." I smile despite the fact she can't see it.
"I'll send you the interview details for tomorrow. The talk show host has a super fan segment for tomorrow and you're supposed to surprise them with tickets to the award show and a few other things, it'll be in the email though."
"Thank you, Ava."
"Have a good night."
"You too Ava, go to the spa or something."
"After this is all over, we're going to spend a whole week in the spa, don't you worry!" Ava seems completely happy and free when she mentions the idea of a spa week.
"My treat of course! Anyways, I've got to go, bye." Ava mutters a few more things before disconnecting the line. I throw my phone on the bed and quickly try and grab an outfit. I end up deciding on the plain black dress I had before. I can dress it up with some jewellery, and if I need to make it more casual, I'll chuck the excess jewellery in my bag for later.
I throw the dress on and run over to my creative wall to find something to spin. A lot of the material on the wall has been perfected. I skip over borrowing something from the new record and opt for a blank piece of paper to start fresh.
I'm not entirely sure what to write, so I open my heart and mind and start scribbling down the first words that come to the page. If they reject it, I'll just get another day to change it around while having tonight off free – which is okay with me. The label respects my independence and my last album sold way more copies than the first one I wrote with the help of Alex. They just wait until something amazing pops out of my brain.
I start my squiggling my pen across the page until the random lines form into words across the line.
"You think you know me, but you're mistaken. I'm not the type of person you can, play, play, play," I mutter under my breath.
"Because if you break my heart, I'll stuff you in a box and send you back to where you came from. I'm not trying to play the fool, mostly misunderstood." The line appears a little long, but I can come back and tweak it later. Any kind of words on the page is better than a blank one staring me back.
"Do you dare to break my heart? I wish you would... If you break my little heart, I bet you would, I bet you could." I'm not super keen on the ending line because I know the structure can be changed, but I don't bother with it just yet, I'm sure the music will help smooth out the structure of the lines. I'm already thinking about a few things around.
Next, I run back to my bedroom and source out my phone. I open the music app and start playing some of the tracks to find a source for the music. Most of the songs follow the same beat of rhythm, so it's easy to borrow and tweak them to adjust for the right song lyrics.
I seek out my guitar and bring it back to the kitchen bench. I start messing around with some older tunes and mixing them in with some of the tracks from the previous album. It sort of sounds good to my ears, well good enough for tonight. This is what the record label wanted, a watered, carbon print of what I made before.
I get caught up messing around on my song that I almost miss the message popping up on my phone. Instead of ignoring it, I quickly spare a second to glance at the screen to see Nathan's name sitting pretty with the message icon.
'Where are you?' – Nathan.
'Stuck working on something, should be done soon.' – Riley.
I tuck my phone into my back pocket and progress further. Because I only have my acoustic guitar with me, I lay down this version instead. I can't spin anything fancy on my laptop, that's not something I've had much practice with. It takes me four recordings to get something I'm impressed with.
Once the music is recorded, I gather my belongings and head towards my bedroom. I can record the vocals while doing my makeup in the bathroom. Demo songs aren't supposed to be amazing, but a rough draft. I'm sure they'll take anything at this moment. Perhaps I'm being this slack for the hopes they'll drop me. But I doubt that would ever happen.
I set up my laptop and microphone in the small bathroom I have, along with pinning the lyrics to the mirror and organise the essential makeup stuff on the bench for a clean and easy access to it.
I hit the record button and starts singing along to the music and pretend like I'm singing in the shower and having fun. As I sing along to the music, I change around words and open myself up to more creative inspiration. There's a good chance I openly sing like this a lot to find the base of my songs.
While singing aloud, I pick up my eyeshadow and start applying it to my eyelids. In between song counts, I listen and record different pieces while switching to focus on doing my makeup in the meantime.
I'm caught off guard when I hear a knock at the door. I place my makeup on the counter and pause the recording halfway. I run through the apartment and over to the front door to quickly answer it.
As I yank the door handle open, it's like deja vu. Nathan is standing before me with a bright, smug smile on his face. He points to his eye and I suddenly feel like a school girl again.
"You always catch me at the wrong moments," I say.
"Or the right ones." He smirks, "Are you almost finished working?" he asks.
"It's getting there." I shrug my shoulders, "almost complete."
"Is it the project you were working on before?"
"Yes." I nod my head, "and my label is insisting on no play until the work is done." I pout.
"You'd better get the work done then." I smile in return, and then progress back to my bathroom to continue getting ready.
As I walk inside, I look over my shoulder and say, "Two birds, one stone."
"I must have come at the right time." He grins madly.
"It's not that good yet, still early stages, and nothing compared to my rejected album."
"You still have to play me something from it," he reminds me.
"Are you feeling lucky, dead Nathan?" I tease.
"Very." He winks back.
"Hm."
"Don't mind me." Nathan rests his shoulder against the door frame and stares me down.
"Okay." Quickly finish doing my makeup before dragging myself back to finish off the recording.
I feel self-conscience about singing in front of Nathan. Sure, it felt find to sing in front of thousands of unidentifiable faces, but to sing in front of someone I know so well, I'm worried about what he could say and the fact I'd have to continue facing him throughout my life. That's what made singing with a mask easy, not always being held accountable for someone's bad gossip. I could take the mask off and wander around the street feeling bad for Sienna, just for a moment.
But a part of growing up is taking responsibility for those actions and claiming what you love. It's a slow learning process, but a journey we all eventually endeavour forwards. It's one I don't want to doing in the public eye as self-growth and development isn't something that can be rushed through like a tv series or commented on by others like a critic.
"I'm still working on this," I warn him.
"Anything you do Riley, it's perfect for me, so don't worry." He smiles brightly.
I take a deep breath and hit the record button and start from where I left off.
"I'm not trying to play the fool, just misunderstood. Do you dare to break my heart? I wish you would. I bet you could. I bet you would. I wish you could..." I finish the lines and hit the end button.
"You have a beautiful voice," he says in awe.
"Thank you."
"Such an angry song." He nervously laughs.
"Could just be a warning," I reply.
"I'll be on my best behaviour then."
I change a few more things before mashing it together and sending a copy off to both Ava and the head of the record label for him to listen to. Hopefully it'll satisfy them for tonight.
"Is this how you produce all of your songs? In the bathroom?" he asks.
"Just the demos if I'm away from the studio," I admit, "it's just something for them to mull over and decide about what they think. The album I have posted to my entry wall was done in a studio and perfected for publication. Now they're just getting sloppy cuts, because that's what they want," I explain.
"Fair enough." He shrugs his shoulders.
I walk past him and enter my bedroom. I pick out a few jewellery accessories to help beef up my outfit to a nice light casual but formal look to par with Nathan's sleek denim jeans and black button down shirt.
"Ready?" asks Nathan.
"Yes." I grab my bag and walk towards the front door. I quickly lock up and start racing down the stairs towards the exit. When we get out to the street, Nathan gets a phone call. I presume it's his mother because of the sharp, quick tone and the by-line of 'we're coming soon, just wait.'
Nathan grabs my hand in his and tugs me forwards. From a quick walking pace, we go springing down the street and towards his parent's hotels.
"No time for walking, dinner is waiting." He laughs madly.
I engulf in a deep breath and smile. I push myself to run fast as we bob and weave through the clusters of people on the street.