Chapter 2

2

H arper Nightingale hadn't known what to expect when she pulled up to the Indigo Lounge, but it was underwhelming from outside. It just looked like a large, arty coffee shop that had decided to stay open late for an event. She may have not even thought that much had it not been for the huge amount of people crowding around the door trying to get in, people who were there for her more than whoever this Mia Cortés was. She was only attending at all due to a favor she owed her college friend, Deborah. She had saved her many a time over the last year or so by being able to source people and props in what seemed an instant, which had been immensely helpful with the amount of tours she had been preparing for a wide range of demanding artists.

"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," was Deborah's only comment a few days earlier when Harper had audibly groaned over the phone to her suggestion.

"Why this girl anyway? Do you have a crush on her or something?" she teased.

"On Mia? No! She's like the daughter I wish I had; I don't see her that way. She's beautiful, there's no doubt there, but she's incredibly hard working and kind. She has big dreams and immense talent—I just don't want her getting poached by the wrong person."

"And you think I'm the right person?" Harper chuckled sarcastically.

"Well, you have a reputation of being a hard-ass, but I went to college with you, so I know that's mostly for show."

"Alright, shut it you, these calls could be monitored, wouldn't want it getting out that I'm secretly not a ginormous bitch."

The two friends moved onto matters of business again and that was the end of that.

Now she sat in the back of one of her cars regretting not being a massive bitch, as she should've cancelled.

"If I'm not back in twenty minutes, the girl is good enough to keep me interested," she said to her driver in the front, and he nodded in response.

Harper stepped out into the evening air and then made her way towards the door. She walked with a purpose and this made people turn to look. In her presence, people stepped aside, something she'd loved being able to do since a teenager, now in her mid fifties, her nearly six feet of height was no less intimidating. She'd been one of the biggest names in artist management and representation for the last five years, but she was an industry secret weapon; she rarely made appearances and only those who knew of her would know the name personally, otherwise she was just known colloquially as the Huntress. She heard this name murmured on the wind as she walked into the bar.

The Indigo Lounge was more pleasant inside than she'd expected but she was still really hoping this wasn't all going to be a waste of her time. She liked to test new singers with the unexpected to see if they could handle the industry, the crowd tonight had been part of her test. She had started a rumor that the Huntress was looking to attend a local gig here about a week ago, and it looks as though it had spread nicely, perhaps a little too nicely she thought to herself as the glass of wine just handed to her by a frantic-looking woman in her fifties was nearly knocked to the floor.

"Please be careful!" shouted the woman at the careless youth who had bumped into Harper. "Apologies. I believe you must be our special guest for the evening, Ms. Huntress…"

"Oh please, that's just a fun little name the industry gives me for being picky. My name is Harper Nightingale." She gracefully extended her hand and Esme nervously took it.

"Uh, my name is Esme, I'm the owner and a friend of Deborah's"

"She has told me about you, lovely to meet you at last. Esme darling, can you do me a favor this evening? Tonight, with such a big crowd, I've decided that I want everyone here to know who the Huntress is, your singer can be my coronation performance, so to speak. So do please introduce me using my proper name when welcoming her to the stage, I want to amp up the pressure a little for Ms. Cortés."

A defensive flicker darted across Esme's eyes, which made Harper smile.

"She means a lot to you it seems."

"She does; she's a wonderful girl, Deborah would agree. I don't know who you are, Ms. Nightingale, but I hope Deborah is right to put Mia's future in your hands. If she's wrong and that girl gets hurt, there will be hell to pay."

Harper smiled a deep genuine smile, which made Esme uneasy.

"I like you, Esme, you are like Deborah—and I trust Deborah's judgement. If you are both saying I should keep an eye on this one, you have my word she will be taken care of. But first she has to pass my test."

"Right…" said Esme, unsure of the rollercoaster she was just taken on. "Best see you do, because she will."

The two women sized each up for a moment before they were interrupted by Deborah at their side.

"Ah, always making such lovely first impressions, aren't you, Harper?" Deborah smiled apologetically to Esme and then took Harper's hand to lead her through the crowd to two reserved seats.

"So good to see you!" said Deborah sitting down after embracing her friend. "What's with the hat? It's hard to hug you with all this flamboyance in the way!"

"It's a good crowd divider, makes you look bigger than you are."

"It's always calculations with you, isn't it?" She shook her head. "Oh, there's our girl…"

Harper turned and gazed at the young woman setting up, she looked very unassuming, when suddenly they locked eyes and she tensed. There was a challenge in the icy green eyes staring back at her, defiant and powerful.

Oh, I think that I may end up liking this after all , she mused to herself.

Esme took the microphone and welcomed everyone. As she said the name Harper Nightingale , the room became awash with little gasps and she turned to smile and take it all in as the applause started. It was all so delicious to her. She took a sip of wine and licked her lips to savor the flavors, but the end note was made bitter by those eyes when she looked back; not impressed, not intimidated. She smiled at her opponent and raised a glass as she took to the plate. This girl, with her conventionally edgy piercings and tattoos on her petite frame, her dark hair swept into a messy plait over her shoulder showing a buzzed undercut of hair… Who does she think she is?

Mia took a breath in, and the room went silent. Harper looked around briefly and noticed the patrons seem to lean forward. It occurred to her then that there were many people here who had genuinely come to see her perform and their excitement began to circulate through the others around them until a frenzy of anticipation seemed to make the air tense. Harper watched as the corners of the singer's mouth raised into a smile as she held that moment for just a second more than was comfortable. The world itself seemed to warp to hear her. She's clever, I'll give her that , Harper he thought, putting her glass to her lips as the singing began.

The wine in the glass never made it further than touching her lips, as within a single note, Harper's hair stood on edge and she began to tingle all over. Mia's voice was rich and thick with power and emotion, and as she held that first note, she began to play with scales within it to create a harrowingly beautiful melody which called to her like a siren's chorus.

" I have lived a thousand lifetimes, but this life is the desert in which time forgets me …" sang Mia.

Every syllable was a brush stroke, painting the grains of sand in Harper's mind. She could feel the heat of a beating sun caressing her face, yet right in the middle of that heat, that cool stare held her, unmoving, like prey in a web.

" For when your lips touch mine, the hours pass by, millennia to minutes …"

She really was beautiful now that Harper really looked closely at her. Past her judgements, past the singing itself. Her lips were full and looked soft as peach flesh and at least twice as sweet. Her eyes when she sang lost the harshness of a glacial green and took on a much softer shade of green.

" I am full of you, overflowing oasis, submerge yourself within it …" she sung.

Harper gasped, her body was swaying of its own volition and the pinprick tingling all around her made her begin to salivate. She wanted this girl at any cost and would make her a star.

" Come to me …" As Mia sang this line over the track she had created, she extended a hand and beckoned Harper forward. Harper felt herself lean forward as she mouthed back the same command; she wanted her, not only as an artist, she wanted to get closer. The corners of Mia's mouth curled upwards in an impish grin as she carried on singing, all the while never breaking eye contact.

"… my hallowed woman, I will carry you, safely to my sanctuary ."

The last note of Mia's last song resonated in riffs across the room in acappella. By the time the song was finished, beads of perspiration began to tease the lines of Harper's neck. The roaring applause broke the spell, and it was only then that Harper realized she was on her feet and had walked several steps towards Mia through the crowd, the remnants of her dropped glass being cleaned from somewhere behind her.

I think I may be in trouble with this one…