Overrated | The Voice France / MIKA & OC

7.2 - Finals. Winners, Part 2

In the end, I manage to talk him into playing me his new song.
- It's for my show, - Mika says, opening his studio laptop, while I try to push back his ginger ladies from climbing onto me. I had the stupidity to tell him they were a bit too old to get on people like little puppies. He proceeded immediately to tap my shoulders, repeating "Up! Up!". I didn't understand what it meant at first, but once his retrievers jumped up the couch and surrounded me, it was clear that he had nominated me as their new cushion.
- So that's why you said it's your house, - I reply once I come to agreement with Mel and Amira and have them lie next to me, their heads on both sides of my lap. I hear a second-long snippet of music burst through the speakers, but Mika shakes his head and continues searching.
- Why, yes. I thought you had it figured already, - he says, eyes on the screen, - Hang on a second. The track is kinda raw, it's hard to compile it into a listenable music... Here, that should work.
Finally, he taps a space button, and as he brings up the volume, I hear a... well, quite "Mika" song. Somewhere between 'Big Girl' and 'Love Today'. The kind of them that makes you imagine bright colors and dancing monsters from a kids show.
I have to choose between joining these monsters and keeping Mika's dogs on me, and decide on the latter.
- I hope you're not recording it, are you? - Mika shouts over the music. I chuckle.
- Even if I did, you've just screwed the recording.
- Maybe that was my intention!

- So what do you think? - he asks when it's over. What can I think, really? Every Mika song is a good song, it just depends if you get it or not. It takes a whole, sometimes, but you realise it eventually.
- Well if it's a song about your house, physical or ephemeral, - I reply, - Then your house is really cozy and fun to be in.

***

While he arranges a trip home for his ladies, I sit by the piano and play whatever comes to mind. Might as well catch the moment and record a cover for my channel.
- That's a very familiar melody. What are you playing? - I hear behind me. A second later Mika pulls up a chair next to me.
- Nothing in particular. Just songs that I know, - I reply.
He stays silent, as if waiting for me to continue, so I make a little medley of pieces I like, and when I move on to Mylene Farmer's Desenchantee, Mika suddenly produces a little giggle.
- That was actually the song I planned to assign you for the Finale. Didn't know you had it memorized.
- I remember you freaked out when I started playing it, then, at home.
- Did I? Well, it doesn't matter now, there's nothing to spoil anymore. I'm gonna have to come up with something else for Gaspard.
I play the full intro, but realise it's too gloomy for today.
- What song would we perform if I made it to the Finals?
- Us, together, after your duet with Kylie Minogue?
- Crap!
- See what you missed, huh? Anyway. I imagined we would be sitting on stage, just like this, by a grand piano. Just us, in the dark, with no one around.
I close my eyes and try to imagine it. Mika softly chuckles.
- Should I give you some more details for a full picture?
- Yeah, that would be great. What would you wear?
- Zuhair Murad's electric blue suit. It doesn't have colorful prints, but it's made of such a beautiful glossy material. Still, you would easily cast a shadow on me.
- Oh, really?
- Yeah. I may have peeked into the  notes of our costume artist. You'd have a black lace jumpsuit. Same designer. I have no idea how he would get it, but try to imagine the fanciest of outfits you've worn so far on the show, and that would be it.
- Wow. And what would we perform?
- Mistral Gagnant, Renaud. You know that song?
In response, I start playing it, transposing it to the key that is more comfortable for me. In the corner of my eye, I catch Mika's smile.
- The first verse is all yours, - he says, - I join on the second one.
I nod, and start singing, the image of the dark stage in my mind:

A m'asseoir sur un banc cinq minutes avec toi
Et regarder les gens tant qu'il en a...

Mika sits next to me, still as if he's not here. I figure he would have to come later, maybe enter the stage when I finish the first verse. I feel he rocks gently to the rhythm, and after I sing the last line and leave a short pause of silence, now sings with me:

A remarcher sous la pluie cinq minutes avec toi
Et regarder la vie tant qu'il en a
Te raconter la Terre en te bouffant des yeux
Te parler de ta mère un petit peu...

Without rehearsals, without even knowing how to harmonize exactly with him, it takes a few lines to get in tune. Luckily, it just takes to remember the days I would sing along to his recordings, and it gets easier.

...Et les mistrals gagnants.

- Now, a pause... - Mika whispers, holding up a finger, - And you play the intro again.
I do as he says, but this time, he accompanies me in the low register, adding up to my melody. I can't hold back a smile anymore. A collaboration with Mika - I couldn't even dream about it!
We sing together the last verse, Mika improvising his piano part and bumping me with his elbow once in a while. I have a late regret that we didn't record this, and so does Mika:
- This could have been a great cover for your channel. Damn.

***

I watch the digital clock on my phone turn 19:00, and sigh. Time with Mika passes way too fast.
- When do you leave? - he asks, walking in, and means on the wall across the room.
- In 2 hours. I'll have to get there sooner, though.
He nods, looking away, and fiddling with something in his hand.
- Can I do you one last favor? - he says, - I know you said you can handle it in your own. But this can make you handle it lot easier, and I don't think you should waste this opportunity.
- What are you talking about?
He walks up to me and hands me a page form his notebook. It has a name and a phone number.
- It's a good friend of mine, from college, - Mika explains, - She didn't pursue a performing career, preferred teaching. As far as I know, she lives now in Chantilly, and she gives private lessons. Call her and tell her that you're from me. She can give you just enough to be ready for college.
- Thank you, - I sigh.
Having put the folded paper in my pocket, I give him a grateful hug.
- Until I come to return that favor! - he chuckles. I grin back, narrowing my eyes:
- What is that thing I can give you that noone else can?
- Well I don't know... You can teach me whatever your native language is. Does that country have its own Voice? Yeah, it does. So what if I decide to join it?
- Very funny.