𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝, guy germaine

𝐓𝐄𝐍 | lost

I WAS STRUMMING MY guitar in the halls of the record label building, waiting to be called into the meeting that just so happened to be about me.

I wrote a song the producers liked, and we've spent about a month perfecting it. Now they were listening to a tape of it with the heads of the label, and I was praying they would like it enough to keep me on their roster. I put my all into it, and all they needed to do was like it enough to move it onto the official recording level. That was all I needed, I could make it if they actually gave me a shot.

Somehow, I thought about Guy a bit too. If he was here, he'd be sitting right here with me, telling me that I did amazing and that this was going to happen. He'd be holding me in his arms and letting me rest, knowing I wasn't getting much sleep these days. It hurt me too much to think of how good Guy was most of the time, knowing I couldn't see him and have him make things better.

Though it was nearing the end of July, I still had no confirmation whether he had convinced the team to come visit or not. Honestly, it was a nice thought, but it was totally unreasonable. Half of those kids would rather return to Florida or New York City or something - not here.

Soon the bodies poured from the conference room and my producers emerged with saddened faces. No, please no.

"They loved the lyrics, hon. They were so-so about the instrumentation, and they liked your vocals. It's just the same thing over and over... the image." Mason said. "I'm so, so sorry."
"So what does that mean?" I asked shakily.
"You're let go from the label. I'm sorry."
"Mason, please... this is all I have, you know that."
"I know. They're forcing me to drop you. I'm sorry."
I refused to let him see me cry, so I packed up my guitar and ran to the elevator, not wanting any of the people in that room to see me when they came out.

I just started running home, frankly, as my mind was too frenzied to move slow. I knew the back streets well and took those so I wouldn't get run over. I didn't care what anybody thought of me for those minutes, I just needed to get home.

I got in the door to my apartment to see my mom was asleep on the couch, so I searched in my room until I found my last letter from Guy. He left his phone number at the hotel there - they were in Salt Lake City right now, so with the time change he might still be in his room.

I dialed his number, listening for his voice desperately. But I didn't get anything, just an automated voice saying no one was there.

Frustrated, I hung the phone back on the wall and went to my room by myself. Well, I was going to before I realized I should get mama to nap in our room instead. It was cooler out today, but our bedroom had the air conditioner because it was smaller and would be more effective. It usually meant I was a bit cold, but I would do anything for mama's comfort.

"Mama, come on, lets get you sleeping in our room with the AC..." I shook her gently, waking her and hoping I didn't mess things up too bad.
"Opie, I'm fine here..." she sighed.
"No, you need the AC, lets get you up."
So I helped her up, walking her into the bedroom. Though my tears had cleared up just a bit, they soon started to fall again. I was always going to be disturbed by how a once fiercely independent woman could succumb to the control of a disease overnight. It broke
me. I never wanted that to happen to me.

"You're cryin' Opie... y-you can't keep hiding from me." She spoke softer, sitting in our bed. "You gotta tell me."
"They dropped me from the label. The song wasn't what the heads were lookin' for, I guess."
"Oh baby, I'm so sorry." She tried to shift to hold me, but I held her back, going to her side instead as I sat in bed. "I heard you singin' it in the shower, it was great."
Thankfully her breathing was getting a bit easier.

"That's what we all thought... they just dunno how to market me." I sniffed. "They keep saying I'm too mature looking, I don't act mature, I don't get why! They say I look too mature to be a teenage artist, but they can't do anything adult with me either. I'm acting my age mama, I swear, I'm doing all you said."
I was really trying to not freak her out too much, but I knew no words that could be said would freak her out anymore.