Aria's apartment was actually one on the fifth floor in Bushwick, a kind of place real estate agents would call charming and full of character, which would mean really tiny, plumbing from ancient, and radiators that clunk like ghosts at 3 o'clock in the morning. But it was hers-almost hers, together with her roommate Mei, and affordable enough.
"You're joking." Mei's chopsticks were frozen halfway up to her mouth, lo mein dangling precariously. "That Dominic Hawthorne? The Dominic Hawthorne?"
Aria placed her guitar in a corner and generalised herself on their secondhand couch. "I don't know how many there are, but yes, the billionaire tech guy. He wants me to perform at some gala he is throwing."
"How much?" Mei totally forgot about her Chinese takeout after all.
"Twenty thousand."
Chopsticks clattered across the coffee table. "Dollars? American dollars?"
"No, Monopoly money." Aria rolled her eyes. "Yes, real dollars. But hey, Mei, this is crazy. There are no js for these kind of guys who hand so much cash to street musicians. There has to be an angle."
Mei took hold of both Aria's shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes. "Aria Chen, I love you as a sister. But your trust issues are showing. Maybe, just maybe, this guy actually likes your music and wants to help you out."
"Nobody helps without an expectation to get something in return."
"Quite cynical, aren't we?" Mei feigned release and went back to her food. "Look, I understand it. Your mom drilled that into you. But sometimes opportunities are just that-opportunities. Call him."
"I have forty-eight hours to decide."
"Call. Him. Tonight." Mei wagged her chopsticks at her. "Because if you don't, I will, and I'll tell him you're available for weddings, bar mitzvahas and billionaire birthday parties."
Aria laughed despite herself. Mei had been her roommate for three years, and their friendship has survived broke months, loud band practices, and Mei's damages into fermentation, which left their apartment smelling like death for a week.
"What if it's too good to be true?" Aria asked softly.
Mei's face softened. "So you walk away. But babe, this busking thing is killing you. Teaching little kids all day, playing the streets at night, falling short of renting.. Hmm, when was the last time you actually took a break? Like a real break? An honest-to-goodness opportunity?" Never, Aria did not say. Opportunities in the music world never fell into the hands of those unconnected or unprivileged or plain unlucky. She had none of those options, only talent and mad stubbornness. She fished out the card from Dominic and played with the embossed letters with her thumb. "Fine," she said under her breath. "I'll call tomorrow."
"Call him now."
"Mei—"
"Aria," she repeated her tone, "it's Wednesday, and it's 8 PM. If he is too busy to answer a phone call, that says everything you need to know about working with him."
Damn it. Mei was right.
Before Aria overthought it any longer, she picked up her phone and dialed the number on the card. It rang once. Twice.
"Hawthorne." His voice was crisp and professional, and she became acutely aware of the fact that she was calling a CEO while in tattered jeans and a coffee-stained hoodie.
"Oh, hi. Um, this is Aria. Aria Chen. From the park?"
There was a pause, then the tone shifted just a shade warmer. "Aria. I didn't expect to hear from you this soon."
"Yeah, well, my roommate said she would beat me up if I didn't." Why did she say this? Professionals probably didn't mention roommate threats. "Uh, I mean, I was hoping to talk about your gala offer."
"I'm listening."
Aria took a deep breath. "Twenty thousand is generous. Too generous. Which makes me think there's more to this than just a performance. So I need to know—what's your real agenda?"
A long silence. Aria gripped the phone harder, preparing for anger or dismissal.
Instead, Dominic laughed—an unexpected, unguarded laugh that invigorated his entire person. "You're direct. I like that. Most people spend hours dancing around what they want to actually ask."
He was a businessman, and he didn't have time to waste. "So?" replied Aria.
He said, "No hidden agenda. This company event is my paramount priority. Need quality entertainment. I heard you, was impressed, and am willing to pay for your excellence. It's that simple."
"Nothing's that simple. Not in your world."
Dominic laughed bitterly. "As I said, my world is a complicated one. But the offer itself is uncomplicated: two hours of everything you have to offer to an audience that could change the very course of your career. We're talking music producers, entertainment executives, even some celebrities among the guest list. Get it right, and this might just be the first of many payments."
Aria's heart kicked against her ribs. Connections. Exposure. Two things she needed but couldn't buy with street corner tips.
"What about creative control?" she pressed on. "Do I choose the songs, or will you hand me a set list from whichever corporate playlist you deem appropriate for the mood?"
"Your songs. Your style. I'm hiring you and I'm not controlling you." He paused. "Although there is one thing I would ask of you."
Here it came, Aria thought. The catch.
"And that is?"
Dom replied, "The song you were playing here tonight, the one about broken pieces."
Aria blinked. "Broken Pieces? That's not even finished. I was just workshopping it."
"Great as it is, I could just wait till you finish it. The gala is in three weeks."
Somewhere in his voice existed something that gave her pause—a note of vulnerability she hadn't really expected; as if that particular song had reached past his billionaire armor and touched something real.
"Okay," Aria said slowly, "I'll perform 'Broken Pieces.' And I will finish it before then."
"Perfect." His smile was audible on the phone. "Tomorrow, you will receive the contract details via my assistant so you can review and negotiate anything if you need to, and we can take it from there. Is that good?"
"Good."
"Aria?"
"Yeah?"
Thank you for taking a chance. I'm the one persuading you to take this opportunity; actually, it is you who are giving me something too."
"And what might that be?"
"A reason to look forward to this damn gala instead of dreading it." The line was dead before she could have a say to that.
Aria was staring at her phone, trying to wrap her mind about what had just happened. She thought she was going to hear arrogance, pressure, maybe veiled manipulation. But what she got was honesty and respect-fused with the strange feeling that maybe, just maybe, Dominic Hawthorne was as taken back by this connection as she was.
"Well then?" Mei demanded from the couch. ''Are you doing it?"
Aria looked at her friend, at the shabby apartment filled with character and charm, perpetually in states of near catastrophe. Then she thought about her students at the music school, deserving for sure better instruments and more teachers. Thought of her own songs, trapped in notebooks and phone memos, never heard beyond park crowds or Youtube videos with three hundred views.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm doing it."
Mei whooped and literally dove into Aria, but not before she could, of course, really hug her best friend. And nearly send them both crashing into the coffee table.
"This is it, babe!" Mei shrieked. "This is your big break!"
Aria wanted to believe her. But as she hugged her friend back, something about it felt like she had just stepped on to a path that would change far more than just her career.
Because that man had seen something other than her music-the reason, it terrified her more than any amount of money or opportunity could.
Because those kinds of men don't look at women like her unless it's to want something.
The question is what did he want?
And why is it that part of her desires to find out