Chapter Text
Vi’s hand hit the alarm clock with startling strength, sending the doomed plastic hell siren rocketing towards the nearest wall where it shattered into tiny, ruined splinters, the bedroom–finally–blessedly silent.
Her head felt like it had spent the better part of last night in a hydraulic press, her stomach unsettled, limbs heavy, joints stiffer than they had any right to be at 24 years old. A hard 24. Hard fought and hard lost. Her very existence a fuckin miracle and a curse all at once.
“Uuuggghhhh,” Vi groaned, the act of opening her eyes suddenly more difficult than anything she’d ever done in the gym. In her life, maybe.
A body stirred beside her, warm and naked and fuck , she didn’t have time for this.
“Hey,” she greeted, placing a scarred hand on the stranger’s shoulder to shake her awake, a poor substitute for good morning but she’d lost the ability to tell these interactions apart.
The woman frowned first, fair features scrunching before her eyes blinked open. “Hey, yourself,” she replied groggily, a smile threatening to stretch her lips.
“Guest shower’s that way,” Vi nodded down the hall. “I need you out of here in 20.” She didn’t wait to watch the woman’s expression twist in disappointment, the smile drain from her face…instead, she rose from the bed, teeth grinding with the effort, walking to her closet to throw on a hoodie and some joggers that were strewn haphazardly on the floor, plus a pair of sneakers that probably cost more than a month’s rent in the basement apartment she’d grown up in.
The woman was sitting up in bed now, blanket clutched to her naked chest. “I thought we had a good time.”
“I’m sure we did,” Vi affirmed, distractedly, as she knelt to tie her shoes. “You’re hot, I’m late, leave me your number and I’ll call next time I’m free.”
She wouldn’t.
Or, maybe she would. Maybe they really did have a good time, Vi had no idea, but maybe she’d remember once she got around to finishing the rest of the open bottle of Jack on her nightstand.
“I had you sign the NDA, right?”
“Yeah, last night.”
Vi nodded, instantly regretting it for how it worsened her headache. “Cool. I’ll see you around, then.”
She got the hint, the stranger finally rising from the bed, taking the sheet with her, wrapped around her like a robe, the extra fabric trailing behind her down the hallway and into the guest bathroom.
Vi passed her garage full of grotesquely expensive cars she wasn’t allowed to drive on her way to the town car waiting just outside the motorized gates, previously designed to keep the paparazzi out, now there to keep Vi separated from the world she’d soured on years ago.
The driver got out to open the back door for her and Vi offered a nod, a muttered “Thanks” as she slipped inside, making herself comfortable on the plush leather.
Without a word, the driver started the engine, beginning their hopefully quiet journey to their destination.
Not quiet, though. He had the radio on, and the universe had a vendetta, evidently.
"I didn’t know that I was starving till I tasted you / Don’t need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo"
Vi’s fist clenched, nausea suddenly overwhelming.
"By the way by the way you do things to my body / I didn’t know that I was starving till I tasted you"
“Can you turn that off or down or change the station?” Vi asked, none-too-kindly.
The driver rushed to comply, fumbling with the tuning dial and managing to turn it both away from and back to the station they’d already been listening to. By some miracle, however, the song had already ended.
“A little Powder-Keg throwback for you,” the DJ was saying. “We’ll be back with some new Ekko after the break.”
Vi had never been so grateful for advertisements.
“Sorry,” the driver apologized, catching her eyes in the mirror. “My daughter really likes that one.”
Vi snorted, hopefully not loud enough for him to hear, mumbling, “I’m sure she does,” as she slid her phone out of her pocket, ignoring the nearly 50 unread text messages and navigating to her email to confirm the meeting time. The meeting she was already late to. Not that it really mattered, literally nothing did anymore.
With a sigh, she locked her phone, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “You want an autograph or something? For your daughter?” she could feel his eyes on her in the mirror again.
“She’d love that. Thank you so much.”
“Anytime,” Vi said, blinking up at the ceiling now, not sure if she wanted the drive to be over with or stretch on forever.
In the end, they arrived outside the imposing downtown skyscraper sooner than Vi had hoped, her driver coming to a stop at the curb, Vi leaning forward to take the pen and notebook he handed her. She scribbled out a signature, holding the paper a moment longer as she considered adding a lyric, although “I was so much younger yesterday” was all that came to mind, so she left it.
“Thank you!” he said, again, as she slammed the door shut behind her, pausing to push a pair of sunglasses onto her face and pull her hood over her unruly shock of magenta hair.
The lettering built into the wall above the receptionists desk read Kiramman Records , in case Vi doubted she was in the right place.
“Cassandra Kiramman,” Vi told the pretty woman sitting at the front desk without further preamble. “I’m late.”
“Your name is Late?”
“No, my name is Vi.”
“Vi as in… Vi ?”
“The one and only.” She watched the woman blush, though she attempted to cover it up with a swift nod as she stood to show her the elevator.
“Top floor, she’s expecting you.”
“Great.”
The office was all old wood, heavy furniture upholstered in rich reds and blues–not the beanbag chairs and glass walls of the hip start ups she’d been to, nor the crisp lines and sharp, stark edges of the new bastions of the industry.
Kiramman records was an institution, and Cassandra Kiramman was nothing if not a household name.
“Vi,” the older woman greeted her, all severe cheekbones, blue eyes and gray streaked hair, completely imposing in her ruffled blouse and tight skirt. “You look a mess.”
I am a mess. “Laundry day,” was the explanation she chose to go with.
“Are you drunk?
“Hungover.”
“Mm,” Cassandra tutted, obviously unimpressed as she clicked the intercom button on her desk phone. “Please bring my guest some ibuprofen and a bottle of water,” she instructed, her cold gaze never wavering. “And perhaps a sandwich. Something with bacon on it.”
Vi had never loved her more than in that moment. “Thanks.”
“Please, sit,” Cassandra instructed, motioning to the couch behind her that looked like it belonged on the Titanic. “You’re late and we have much to go over.”
Vi did as she was told, plopping down on the grandiose furniture, legs spread wide, hands coming to rest on her strong thighs as she leaned back. “I’m all ears.”
“Take those sunglasses off, then, and that silly hood,” Cassandra said. “I’ll dim the windows, if need be, but this is a business meeting.”
Sorry , Vi almost said, but she bit her tongue, still too proud for that as she stripped her hood back and folded her sunglasses in her hand, tossing them on the coffee table in front of her. “Your turf, your terms. Message received.”
“I’ve brought Mr. Jayce Talis on to manage you,” Cassandra announced, moving along. “You’ll meet him this afternoon. I doubt you’ll get along on a personal level, but you’ll be good for each other. Jayce is a man I trust, a protege of mine, really, and he knows what he’s doing. You won’t be punching any paparazzi on his watch.”
Vi flinched at the flippant reference.
“He also manages Ekko, which provides excellent collaboration potential. His duet with Jinx has been dominating alternative streaming platforms like Tiktok and that’s the exact sort of exposure you need.”
“Haven’t heard it,” Vi mumbled, chest seizing at the mention of her sister.
“I’m not asking you to listen, just to keep an open mind,” Cassandra clarified, sitting down across from her. “The whole album has already been written for you. Jayce will introduce you to your new producer later on today. Recording will begin next week, I’ll trust Jayce to hammer out the finer scheduling details with you, but it needs to be finished by the end of this month as the release party has already been booked. Is that all clear?”
“Uh, so I’m not–not writing my own stuff?”
“Absolutely not,” Cassandra almost laughed. “Your last solo album is proof enough that Jinx was Powder-Keg’s writer and you were simply the front man; there’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t need you to be a songwriter, I have hundreds of those at my disposal. I need your voice, your stage presence and your star power. Can you do that for me?”
Vi was still busy deciding whether or not to be offended when the question was posed, so it took her a moment to answer, “I guess.”
“Wonderful,” Cassandra clapped once. “It would seem we’re on the same page, then. It appears your lunch is here,” she waved her assistant in, the young woman carrying a to-go container, a bottle of ibuprofen and the water that had been requested. “Legal should be finished with the formal contract by the time Jayce arrives, I’ll get some signatures from you and let him take you through the rest of your day.” She stood. “Feel free to eat in here, I have a lunch meeting with my daughter so I’ll be off now, but welcome aboard, Vi. Kiramman Records is grateful to have been entrusted with this next stage of your career. I can assure you it will be a comeback for the ages.”