[Chapter 50: The Muse?]
Shania Twain.
Her name sounded nice, and she was -- well, quite attractive.
She had a head of slightly tousled dirty blonde curls, shimmering as the late afternoon sun streamed through the window around 3 PM, making it look like sunlight was dancing on her hair.
Wearing a denim shirt, with light brown eyes that looked shy, lips pressed gently together, still carrying a youthful freshness that hadn't quite faded away.
On paper, she was already twenty-five.
But she looked even younger than Jennifer, who was twenty-one -- probably because of that simple, unpretentious vibe.
She was being interviewed by Seymour and Orlando together.
Her manager, a middle-aged woman named Mary Bailey, stayed by her side.
If it had been some other serious music artist or a star manager like Frank -- who could produce records and manage talents -- the interview might have focused on evaluating Shania's vocal skills.
But Seymour didn't know much about that, and Orlando... well, he only knew a little, and just recently at that, after some vocal training workshops arranged by Warner.
That little bit of knowledge hardly qualified him to critique anyone's singing.
Without beating around the bush, Seymour pulled out two confidentiality agreements and handed them to Shania and her manager.
After they signed, Seymour brought out the demo of My Heart Will Go On.
Orlando remained silent; Seymour spoke up, "You've got one hour to learn this song. After one hour, sing it for us."
Straightforward and to the point.
Nervously, Shania and her manager studied the song in the interview room.
With only an hour, there wasn't time for anything else.
---
Meanwhile, Seymour and Orlando casually chatted about the struggles new artists faced in the record business.
"In this industry, true prodigies destined to become top singers usually show extraordinary talent by the age of 12 or 13. Then it's all about getting discovered and nurtured by record labels, scouts, or managers."
Seymour said, "Like the Jacksons, for example. But in that family, even if the talent's not quite enough, having siblings and parents around still pushes you to the top."
But many other small-town music prodigies spend years drifting and end up just singing in bars or clubs to make a little cash.
If they're more conservative -- or if they're female -- their musical dreams often fade away within a few years. They settle down, get married, and become housewives, their ambitions swallowed by everyday life.
According to Seymour, artists like Orlando who could both sing and write songs and had real star power were rare in the whole music industry. And if, on top of that, they had a partner like Daisy Cuomo?
Well, Orlando was the only one like that in the world.
Of course, Seymour never said this aloud.
Orlando mentally picked up Seymour's thoughts with his telepathy.
Sometimes Orlando himself felt a little sorry for the people close to him: his assistants, friends, lovers, and even enemies.
Because when they faced him, they couldn't even lie.
But oftentimes, telepathy was also a burden for Orlando.
For example, when he was around fans or in front of media and crowds, he would often switch his telepathy off.
Otherwise, he'd be flooded with all sorts of dark thoughts, fantasies, and desires.
Just the thoughts from those female fans seeing him up close were enough to crash his brain.
Can you imagine a 280-pound fan fantasizing about overpowering him? No? Good.
After going through that a few times, Orlando became more cautious about using his telepathy.
Unfortunately, his telepathy wasn't like a computer or a phone with a firewall -- you couldn't set filters or block certain thoughts.
It was all or nothing.
---
While the two men chatted on, an hour passed quickly.
Orlando and Seymour once again faced the nervous Shania and her manager.
Once they were ready, Seymour waved his hand, "Alright, you can start."
Shania sang the demo version of My Heart Will Go On a cappella.
When she finished, Seymour furrowed his brow.
If Frank were here -- a professional music producer and star manager -- he'd likely have praised her powerful vocal delivery and emotional expression.
He'd have noted her distinctive tone, her strong mid-to-high range, her ability to convey feeling, her skillful use of falsetto, and breath control creating texture.
Frank would say she had good vocal skills but wasn't quite there with My Heart Will Go On.
He might have passed on her or signed her on the strength of her acceptable voice and good looks.
But Seymour, relying on instinct, just frowned, then looked to the song's creator, "I don't feel it. It doesn't meet the mark, no spark. What about you, Orlando? You wrote this song -- how do you think she did?"
Orlando didn't respond. He was staring blankly at Shania.
If Frank had been here, the manager would be ecstatic and doing everything possible to keep anyone from disturbing Orlando.
Because Frank knew when Orlando zoned out like this, it meant his creativity was exploding.
After the burst of inspiration, a high-quality new song was probably on the way.
Seymour had only been at the creation of Just the Way You Are once, and he was older now, with less energy and focus than Frank.
Watching Orlando stare at Shania, the old man assumed the young man was just captivated by her looks.
"Ahem..."
Pretending to clear his throat, Seymour quickly shifted tone, from refusal to ambiguity, "But for other songs, especially country music, your voice might actually work well. Maybe we should sign her first, what do you think, Orlando?"
A seasoned vet in the business.
"What? What did you say? Seymour, sorry, I just had a flash of inspiration. What did you say just now?"
"I said this beautiful lady's voice is good, not for My Heart Will Go On, but maybe good enough for other songs -- worthy of a contract with our label -- wait, what did you say?"
"Me? I was asking what you just said."
"No! The part where you said you had a flash of inspiration just now?"
"Yes, I had some inspiration, thought of a few country songs."
"Fuckin' shit!" Seymour jumped up, delighted. "Orlando, are you serious?"
"Yeah. I've got quite a bit of inspiration this time. Enough to put together a whole country album."
"What!!!!"
"Let's sign her." Orlando pointed at a stunned, confused Shania Twain, "Her voice is pretty good, and the inspiration came from her."
"Sign, sign, sign! Absolutely sign her!" Seymour almost screamed in excitement, "She's literally your muse! Just looking at her, you can write an entire album. Imagine if you signed her -- ten albums! Orlando, why don't you just sleep with her now? I'll hold the door out here for you!"
*****
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