Chords

Chapter One

This was my last shot. The final chance I had left, or else I would end up singing for quarters in the local park.

My bag dangled beside my dark petticoat, holding my sheets of music, and the last chance at my dream. My doubts were still in the back of my mind, remembering the many representatives and receptionists I spoke to early in the morning. Of course my hopes sunk when the all told me exactly the same thing.

"You can’t get your songs heard unless you get an agent."  "But I won’t get an agent until I get published. Which is just doing some endless loop on me. I just want someone to be interested in my songs. Please."  "If we were to listen to your music, we would have to get copyrights, and contracts, and everything in between. And you may not even get any offers after that." I pinched the bridge between my nose and let out a shaky breath.

"All I want is for someone to tell me I have a shot. Not to be bumptious Miss, but I think my songs are pretty good for some of your artists. Just give me a shot. I know I can do it. You don’t know how important this is to me." "Sorry darling. Welcome to the music business." I made it out of the building, hugging my knees and wondering what I would do. I told my mother I would make something of myself, proving to her I could be someone worthy of her appreciation. I promised Kyle I could make it and give him the world. Give them both the world. A world where we wouldn’t have to fight another day to survive. Now what would I do?

The last and only way I could actually get a shot was a meeting with a real artist in person. Well not exactly in person, but a state of ambush. I didn’t know if it would work, but my last hope was right in front of Syco Entertainment. A ton of girls were parked right in the same spot as me, and I didn’t understand. Who was showing up to make such a big scene?

They all had their phones poised in front of the glass doors. “You’re here for him aren’t you,” The blond standing beside me, giving me a smirk. “What?” She giggled and then spoke a word to her friends. “The man of the hour. I’m Charlotte.”  ”Emma. Nice to meet you,” I smiled briefly before turning back to the doors.

"Well, you don’t seem like a fan. What are you doing here?" I told Charlotte about how I moved to London to become a songwriter, and added all the little details. "Emma, that sounds really brave to leave home and chase your dreams, but not to be rude, you didn’t answer the original question. What are you doing here?"  "I guess I’m just waiting for the artist of the hour to come out and just…I don’t know. Give me a chance I guess," I explained.

She gave me a homely good luck before making it back to her cluster of friends.Just as I gave up my last tatter of hope, the boy that the girls went into terms of insanity over was stood right in front of the doors, with a bodyguard twice his build.

A mess of hair and a dark coat was all I saw so late in the night. The lights were on inside the building, but I got bombarded by the adolescent and my age-range females that I was standing with two hours prior. He stepped out, and soon enough the girls screams echoed around the tiny building, making my ears ring. He smiled, his teeth white and perfectly aligned, and signed autographs at a precise pace.

I steadied my breathing, and tried to remember what I would say as he made it closer to my area. “What can I sign for you darling,” He spoke as I turned around. “Oh. No I don’t want anything signed. I just…I have-” He chuckled, and pressed his hand out,”A photo. Of course.” “Oh no! I just wanted to hand you some of my-” I was cut short as the chants of the frenzied girls teetered my ears to bleed. “How about you wait over there with Christian and we can talk yeah?”

I nodded, and went beside his bodyguard -who I assumed was Christian- and Harry gave him some signal to take me to the side of the building. Another body-guard came into view, and Christian along with the unnamed man gave me a warm smile. “So, how are you Miss,” Christian spoke in a thick Irish accent. “Pretty nervous. I feel like I could throw up.” He chuckled and handed me a water bottle from his coat. “Many girls feel that way love. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Soon, the crowd dispersed, and Harry came into full view. I wasn’t going to lie and say he wasn’t stunning. His old boots did give me a reason to buy him a new pair of shoes though. “So..Miss-” “Emma. Emma Caverly.” He shook my hand, and I tried to hide my chattering teeth as the cold and the slight freeze of his hand made it worse. He laughed and took his coat off, wrapping it around me. His face turned from humorous to annoyed in an instant.

"Shit. We have to go. Thanks Christian. Eli. You can go home." They left us alone, and before I could figure out what was going on, paparazzi stormed. "Go to the left side of the building, and my car will be out there. A Black Range Rover okay?" I walked away from him, trying to keep a steady pace to not give the troop of paparazzi some confusion. A part of me was excited that I was getting some sort of chance, while the other half of me wondered what the fuck I just landed into.

I made it to the asphalt Range Rover Harry had talked about, and tried to wait beside the passenger, only to find extra paparazzi waiting for me. “Miss! How do you know Harry? Are you two together?!” I wanted to laugh at the audacity of these dim-witted people before me, but I just shielded my face from their zoomed-in lenses and questioning faces.

"Can you please step away from my car? Thank you!" Harry boomed, causing them all to step back quickly. He unlocked the car allowing me to get inside, and he sped away. "What the hell was that?!" "A thousand fluffy unicorns," He spoke sarcastically," what do you think? I’m a singer Emma. They like to pry and plot into my life because they can make a pound off of it. That’s how it is."

The ride was very silent to wherever we were going, and I found myself in the middle of a parking lot. “Okay. What did you want to tell me?” I explained to him about my writing, the songs, and how my terrible conversations with the labels went, and he didn’t say a word. A straight poker-face.

"Well Emma…I think we have a lot to discuss."

I showed him the four music sheets I had brought along with me in my bag, and he continued with his damn poker-face. I was a mess of panic and excitement, wondering how he thought my songs were. Stupid? Foolish?

"These are-"

"I know they’re rough, but I just have never been to an actual studio before to lay anything down and-"

He put a slight finger to my lip and smiled. That arrogant smile. A smile I knew could stir up trouble with the slight form of it. “It’s perfect Emma. I mean, I can definitely give it to my friends in my band’s label but, these songs would great for my..what I’m trying to say is, I would love to hand these to my boss and work with you on this.”

Harry and I? With my songs? For a boyband?