Rising Star: Book 3 of The Orion Series

Embracing Fate

In a red room

Sunlight coming in

Music dancing around

People in here

Waltz about gaily

Their crystal laughs

Stroking my senses

I move to the back

Where shadows lie

Stretched before me

A rather large painting

Entitled: The End

My black eyes

Solemnly watch it

Skin vibrates emotion

The painting screams at me

I close my eyes

Turn away from the painting

Merge back with the people

Leaving the end behind

--The song The Room, lyrics by Orion Bauwes

"You guys really should do some merch."

"...In order to do merch, we would need to have money. We don't really have any of that."

"You'd have money if you signed with us."

It's the next weekend at our next gig. We're floored when Paul shows up again.

"Look," Orion says, running a hand through his hair, "we talked about it since last week, and the answer is still no." He moves to leave but then stops briefly in front of Paul, glancing him up and down. "Thank you."

It was true. We talked about it. And we all had arrived at the same answer. Ben's parents had already paid for his college. My parents had already paid for college. We didn't think there was anyway to devote the amount of hours it takes to make a record and go to school full time.

So, unfortunately, the answer was no.

"You kept my card, right?" Paul asks me with a wink before he walks away.

It's the same thing at the following gig.

"Are you stalking us?" Orion asks with a slight chuckle, shaking his head.

Paul grins. "Maybe."

"We're still not signing. You know, parents and all that jazz."

"Fuck 'em."

We all stare at Paul with EMI, a bit taken aback.

"Do you have a demo at least?"

"Nope."

"Make me one."

It's not a question. We all watch him, stunned, as he walks away.

So when Paul from EMI shows up to our next concert, we came prepared.

"Here," Orion tells him, shoving a CD jewel case into his hand before Paul can even say Bob's your uncle.

"What's this?" Paul asks, dramatically feigning surprise, putting a hand to his chest.

"We talked our music teacher into letting us use one of the private practice rooms as a recording studio, so here. Here's your damn demo."

Paul smiles wolfishly. He salutes with the CD case, gives a wink, and starts to walk away.