Julian told me I’d be meeting his friend today, but I hadn’t expected to see him this early. Peter is in the living room, standing near the door, hands in his pockets. He’s polished, as expected, in his cobalt three-piece suit and roguishly brushed-up auburn hair. He is fairly nice-looking with his deep ash gray eyes and clean-shaven jaws.
Julian has also already told him about us. He seems to have trusted the man as if he were a family member, making him one of his few confidantes.
The two men exchange a quick brotherly hug.
“Man, I was surprised when you said you were dropping by the office. You never did in a million years.”
“Yet you had to come here.” Julian tucks his arms behind his back.
“I need to see what’s keeping you busy these days, and it turns out it’s a who.” Julian’s friend looks at me. “Hello, miss. Peter Greenwood. You must be Anya.” He smiles and extends his hand to me.
I shake his hand. “I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Greenwood.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” He winks at me. “So, are we ready?”
“For what?”
Julian glides his hand around my waist and whispers, “I’ll see Rafe and Dad before they leave for LA this morning, and Peter insists on driving you to your place. I’ve already declined.”
I look at them, puzzled. That’s absurd. “I’m flattered, but Fred can drive me.”
“I don’t take no for an answer,” Peter insists.
Julian sighs. “I’m sorry, but I need Fred this morning.”
“I can just take a cab,” I say, shrugging.
“I can’t let you take a cab from here. This is why you needed a driver. Peter...“About an hour and a half.” Peter glances at his watch. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to terrorize her.” He chuckles.
Julian frowns at him. “You better not.”
I can’t believe they’re making decisions for me. “I told you I’d be fine. I can get to my apartment and school by myself. I’ve been doing it for over two years.”
“I was going to talk to you anyway, Anya,” Peter says kindly. To be fair, he gives the impression of a nice guy and shares some of Julian’s characteristics.
“About what? If I may ask,” I say.
“Anya, you don’t have to answer him anything,” Julian presses. “But trust me, he’s not going to let this go.”
“You make it sound like I’m going to do something bad,” Peter quips to Julian, smirking.
I protest with a grunt. I’m meeting this man for the first time, so things are bound to get awkward. On the other hand, Julian seems to trust his friend enough to let him accompany me.
Or maybe... I can ask Peter what Stella Pierce is up to. Julian didn’t tell me anything else.
“Fine,” I say, dismissively waving my hand to appear uninterested. “I’m not sure what this is about, but just so you know, I can get to school on my own.”
We were getting ready to leave the house anyway, so we all headed to the parking lot, where we saw Blanche and a red Mercedes side by side. Fred has also arrived. Predictably, Peter moves towards the Mercedes.
Julian pins me against his car before leaving. “I’m sorry if we can’t go together, but you’ll be fine with Peter.”
“I’m still curious why you’re letting me ride with him. I don’t know him at all.”
He leans forward and uses his thumb to lift my chin. “You’ll find out, okay? I’ll see you at school today.” He kisses me softly but deeply. “Go. You’re going to be late.”
Julian lets me go first while his best friend waits for me on his ride. And when I approach him, he opens the door for me.
“Let me guess,” I say as I get in, continuing the question when he takes the wheel. “Your car’s name is Rouge.” Blanche and Noir are the French for black and white, respectively, so rouge must be red.
“What?” he asks, softly laughing.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Or perhaps not.
“It’s actually Crimson.”
I chuckle. “I see. Um, you guys, name your cars.”
As the car revs, he joins in on my mirth. “I’m not sentimental, but people do that when they own two or more. It’s just easier that way.”
I feel like I’m in for a bumpy ride, so I fasten my seatbelt. He drives to the road in a flash, just as I predicted.
“This is awkward, isn’t it?” he says after a few moments of silence.
“Yeah.”
But then the statement makes us laugh, which effectively breaks the ice.
“Tell me a little about yourself, Anya Scott.”
A sense of déjà vu at this point. It takes me back to my first dinner date with Julian.
“I assume you already know me, so I don’t know what to say.”
“Oh, come on! It’s tedious to just sit here and say nothing. Do you also sing?”
I knew it! He knows me up to that extent. “I do whenever I practice,” I say, and I notice his face light up with interest.
“How about doing it professionally?” he asks, looking at me. “Julian told me about your perfect pitch. He has it, and he can sing. I’m sure you can as well.”
I nod. Julian sang a few lines in class, so I know he can sing, but I haven’t heard him sing an entire song. I’ve always been wondering about it, but now I’m even more intrigued.
“I’ve only ever known how to make scores. I tried out for a choir, but it didn’t work out because rehearsals took up all of my free time.”
“Singing in a group differs from singing solo,” he says, his gaze fixed on the road. “How about your music? How many compositions have you written so far?”
“A few, but only for school.”
“Have you considered sending them to labels?” he asks again.
“Wait, um...” I pause. I’m not sure where this is going. “I’m not saying this is irrelevant, but why are you asking, sir?”
“Julian’s right. You’re clever.”
“What?”
“You’re probably aware I’m a panelist for your school’s upcoming competition, but this conversation has nothing to do with it. Julian showed me your score, and I think it is satisfactory.”
What? This is getting more confusing.
“Is it you? You’re the panelist?”
“Yes, as well as executive producer at Sebastian Records. Wait, didn’t Julian mention that?”
I shake my head. But I’m sure it’s because they don’t want to startle me.
He steers the car onto a U-turn road that leads to my apartment. Julian probably gave him my address.
I start to panic. I’m speaking with an executive producer! I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve only imagined this moment.
“Could you please tell me which of my songs he played for you?”
“Mm. Let’s see.” He hums a few notes, and then I recognize it immediately. It’s the same one Julian and I played in the practice room. “I think that’s the one.”
“Oh, but I don’t yet have good lyrics for it.”
“But with Julian’s rendition, it’ll be one of the songs with great melodies I’ve heard this year. What are your plans for it?”
“I’m not sure, but I thought about recreating the sound and submitting it to a label when I graduate.”
Peter’s lips curl into a half-smile. “Why wait until you graduate? Why not right now?”
I blink. Am I hearing this right? Peter Greenwood is interested in my song! Goosebumps parade all over my body.
“Seriously?” I say breathlessly.
When the car finally stops, I realize we have arrived in front of my apartment complex.
“Yes, seriously.” He laughs softly. “I already discussed it with Julian, and he told me it’s best if you hear it from me, so you don’t think he’s trying to help you.”
“Hold on.” Gosh, I’m about to hyperventilate. “I just want to make sure I understand what you’re saying. You’re asking about my song because you want it, right?”
He gives a friendly smile. “That’s right.”
“And Julian didn’t ask you to do this? Please tell me the truth.”
“If you really know him, you knew he wasn’t that type.”
Indeed. “Is this why you’d like to speak with me?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I think so.”
“Oh my goodness.” I make a fist with my hair. “I can’t... This is unbelievable.”
“Well, believe it now.”
I stare at him, my eyes widening. “How about the competition? Isn’t this unfair to the others?”
He laughs as if I said something amusing. “I told you this has nothing to do with that, and this is entirely different. The victor of that competition will be a fully signed artist at the label, but only by choice. We will, however, encourage whoever wins to take advantage of the opportunity. They will never need to find a label or go indie because their success is already guaranteed. My proposal is for that one particular song, and no one in Whitlock needs to know about it unless they own the rights to it.”
“No, they don’t.”
“That’s great. Now we can conduct business outside of school. Besides, I have other plans for it.”
“Can I ask what your plans are for it?”
“Mm.” He strokes his chin. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Depends. Why?”
“Please don’t get me wrong when I say this. I like your song, so I’m asking you to collaborate with me. But I’ve been trying to reinstate Julian to management. We require his expertise. He’s better at writing and producing music than anyone else I know. I convinced him to lend his help with the rendition of your song and have it sung by someone like Ophelia Grant. Julian accepted.”
“Ophelia,” I exclaim, my breath caught in my throat. “It can’t be true, can it? I absolutely love her music!” She always sold out tickets to concerts in the first week. All her songs are iconic!
“Yes, but this is just a rough plan. I can’t move on until you accept it as well.”
“Did you tell Julian this is your purpose? Of course, I’d like to hear what song he’ll bring to the world again, but is this what he wants?”
He lets out a sigh. “I haven’t told him yet, but he belongs there, Anya. To the limelight. He doesn’t have to leave Whitlock, but he was content before his ex-fiancée ruined it. I’d like to see him thrive again.”
“I witnessed it.” When he was helping me write and compose, I could see the joy in his eyes and the warmth in his smile. I notice it whenever he teaches music.
“You probably wouldn’t notice because you’re not going out for long, but he’s lonely. Anya, I’ve known him since we were ten years old. This is not like him.”
Julian is lonely? Yes, I wouldn’t notice that. But I recall him being so frustrated last night while on the phone with a friend. He never once showed that side of himself to me, or at least not in my presence.
I suppose I don’t know Julian very well.
“You really admire him, don’t you?” I ask. I sense no rivalry from Peter, only admiration and respect.
“Well, he saved my life. I am who I am now because of him,” he replies solemnly.
I guess that is something I can relate to. Julian chose me to be on the scholarship.
I immediately wanted to ask what he meant, but I realized it was a sensitive subject, so I switched topics. “I’ll give it some thought. But it’s a great offer.”
Peter smiles. “Thank you, Anya. I’ll give you my card.” He takes his wallet from his pocket and draws out a small black card. I read it.
Peter H. GreenwoodExecutive ProducerSebastian Records + 1 (212) [email protected] Entertainment Group TowerW 84th St, New York, NY 10024“Just call me, and we’ll go over the details,” he adds. “Julian knows about this, but let’s keep my intent a secret. I’ll tell him that myself.”
“Thank you, Mr. Greenwood. Your secret is safe with me, and I’m happy you appreciate my song. Even though this still sounds unbelievable to me.”
“Everyone is given a starting point. Oh, there’s one more thing.” He reaches out, opens the glove box, and takes something. Another card, but this time it’s a little bigger. He then hands it over to me.
“What is it?”
“VIP tickets to Ophelia Grant’s concert. That will be in two weeks. There will also be performances by guest singers. You get two tickets so you can bring a friend. This may help you make a decision.”
“Oh, my God.” I chuckle and press the tickets against my chest, across my heart. “I haven’t seen Ophelia perform live. This is already too much, but I appreciate it very much. Thank you, Mr. Greenwood.”
“Please call me Peter. Julian’s like a brother. It’s only natural to call me with no formalities. You’re also welcome.”
“Alright.” I chuckle. “I think I should leave, Peter. I have to get ready for school,” I say as I look up at my apartment.
“Right. Thank you, Anya.”
I nod, but someone abruptly knocks on the window before I can step out of the car. I raise my head to see who it is.
It’s Kristoff.
I groan inside. Why is he here, and what the hell does he want this time?