Charttoppers - 17. Ultimatum

It was Friday, almost one week after the Stardust Awards, and the day when new charts came out. Tyler’s team already had reliable information from the record label that his album had sold a huge amount in the USA, all but guaranteeing him the number one spot.

However, Friday was also the day when Stacy was set to return to England - something Tyler was not looking forward to. Soon after he woke up that morning and got dressed, he went to her hotel room, where she had been sleeping every night during their stay.

“It’s open,” the girl called out after Tyler knocked on the door. As he entered the room, his face fell upon seeing her packing, getting ready for her flight back.

“Hey,” he said weakly, so unlike his powerful singing voice. “Need help packing?”

“No, I’m ok, I’m almost done. I didn’t bring a lot of stuff in the first place,” she replied, busying herself with folding her clothes, avoiding eye contact. “But thanks anyway,” she added, sounding as if she was on the verge of crying. Tyler picked it up right away. They had been going out for three years, and before that they were friends for two more. He knew all of her moods, and she knew his.

“So, you’re really going, huh?” he asked, sitting on the bed.

“Yeah. My flight is today.”

“You know you can always change flights, right? We can get you another ticket. I mean, we’ll be here one more week, so…”

“Tyler, don’t do this,” Stacy replied, gently but firmly at the same time. “Don’t make things harder than they have to be. This whole trip, it wasn’t… It wasn’t what I thought it would be. I thought we might be able to reconnect and salvage things, but it’s just too hard. Things have changed so much. I know you’ve noticed it too.”

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t been trying…”

“I know you have and I’m not blaming you. But it feels like everything is against us, from the moment I landed here and missed your show. That was a sign.”

“Come on, Stacy, you know I don’t believe in that stuff,” he replied. Her superstition never really bothered him, but he wasn’t in the mood for it at that moment.

“Well, I do,” she said defiantly. “And it doesn’t matter whether you believe in it or not. It’s just the way things are. I have to go to uni and you… you have a million other things to deal with. You’re a celebrity now. And I - I have to settle with pretending I’m just your friend. It seems that’s all we’ve been doing lately - pretending. I think we have to stop.”

Tyler sat quietly, looking away from Stacy and thinking where they had gone wrong, trying to pinpoint the exact moment things had started to crumble between them. He knew it all began when he became famous, when he signed that contract with his record label. Was it all worth it? That was the question he kept asking himself, but he had no answer. He was doing what he had always dreamed of since he was a young boy singing loudly in his room as he looked at posters of singers on his walls. If he had a time machine, would he really go back and change things?

There was a knock on the door.

“Come on in, it’s open,” Stacy said as she continued packing her stuff.

A moment later, Florence entered the room with a proud look on her face.

“Guess what, hot shot? It’s official, you’re number one,” the woman said, lifting up her phone and pointing it to Tyler. The article on the screen was too small to read, but he could clearly guess what it was about.

“Wait, what?” Tyler mumbled, startled. He had been deep in thought, and Florence had interrupted him with her loud, harsh voice.

“You’re number one, kid! Left the other suckers in the dust,” the manager repeated, chuckling.

“Wow, really?” he replied, wide-eyed. If the news had come at any other time, he would’ve been over the moon, but right now… There was little that could lift his spirits. “That’s, uh, that’s pretty cool. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Pretty cool?” Florence looked at Tyler incredulously, before turning to Stacy. “Honey, would you smack him on the head for me? I come here to deliver great news, and this is the reaction I get? He was more excited when he skyped with his lizards yesterday.”

“That’s really great news, Ty. I’m happy for you,” the girl forced a smile. “I knew you could do it.”

“Yeah, thanks,” the singer nodded, trying to keep his sadness hidden.

“Ok, now come on, your parents are waiting to have breakfast and celebrate with you. Then we’ve got a long day ahead of us,” Florence said, starting to list all the things on their schedule for that day.

With Stacy’s packing finished, she and Tyler followed the manager to the hotel restaurant to have one last dinner together. Then, she would return to England, and he had no idea when he would see her again.

~~

“How do you feel about your album going number one? Did you expect this kind of success?” a young woman asked, standing in the front row of the crowd of reporters at the press conference, a smartphone in her hand, recording everything Tyler was saying.

“Oh blimey, I never even imagined it! I’m so happy and so, so thankful to all of my fans and everyone who bought and streamed the album. It’s really amazing to see it’s been so well received,” Tyler replied, putting on a smile for the cameras. With all eyes on him, he could not afford to let his personal issues get in the way. He had to be all smiles and reply patiently to all the reporters’ questions, even though all he wanted was to sit in his room for a week and watch Dragon Ball with his siblings. Instead, he had to promote and attend press conferences. He felt as if he was in a minefield, every question a potential mine he could step on and blow himself up.

“Will there be a tour any time soon?” another journalist asked.

Tyler was relieved. At least they didn’t ask him anything about his personal life.

“Um, not yet. We’re still looking into it, but as soon as I have any news, I’ll make sure to let you know,” he replied.

“How many songs did you record for the album?”

“We did about forty songs, and then we had to pick fourteen to put on the album. And it was really tough to choose! Some of them, like The Day I Found You, were insta-picks, but we had a lot of back and forth with the other choices until we decided on the final picks.”

It was an exhausting half an hour. Who knew answering dull questions and faking a smile could be so draining? By the end of the conference, the singer felt as if he had done a two-hour session at the gym and then got grilled by the police for crimes he never even committed. After it was finally over, he made his way out of the venue, accompanied by his parents and Florence.

He looked at the time and wondered how Stacy was doing. She was already on the flight back to the UK, on the way back to a normal life, without him. Even though he didn’t believe in fate or destiny, he wondered if Stacy was right - maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

On the way out of the building, a throng of fans had gathered, waiting for Tyler to appear. Waving their CDs and posters in the air, and taking photos of the singer on their phones, the fans started calling out as soon as he appeared. Everyone wanted a moment of his time - an autograph, a selfie, or just to talk to him.

Security guards were all around him, ready to escort him out, but Tyler didn’t want to leave his fans hanging. He felt bad about walking out since they’ve been waiting all that time to support him.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Florence walked up to him. “Ok, you’ve got ten minutes.”

“Alright, thanks,” Tyler smiled and stopped the security guards, passing them by. The crowd cheered even louder when they saw the singer approach them. He still felt embarrassed when meeting fans and couldn’t help the awkward smile that would appear on his face. It was just hard to believe there were so many people who loved his music and looked up to him. He was nothing special - just an ordinary guy who happened to record an album. Of course, none of his fans thought that way.

“Oh my God, Tyler, I love you so much!”

“Can I get a selfie?!”

“Tyler, please sign my t-shirt!”

The fans were going wild until the security guards, who stood by threateningly close, warned them to calm down. Tyler smiled and greeted as many fans as he could, rushing to take selfies with them and sign their merchandise. It wasn’t until he saw a woman standing with a little girl in her arms, not unlike his own younger sister Lucy, that he stopped and grinned. As the kid waved a CD in her tiny hands and smiled at him, Tyler felt as if his heart would melt.

“And what’s your name, princess?” he asked, coming closer to take the girl’s hand. She was dressed in a red and yellow dress, with a small, yellow hat on her head.

“That’s Emma,” the girl’s mother said. “Say hi to Tyler, Emma,” she added, but the girl just turned around and buried her face in her mom’s shoulder, her cheeks burning red.

“Aww, she’s just a little shy,” Tyler said, only then noticing the hat was there to cover up the fact that the girl’s head was shaved.

“She’s a big fan, and so am I,” the mom spoke again, on the verge of tears. “We, uh, we’ve been through a lot these past few months, but your music helped us so much. I just want to say thank you for that, you have no idea how much that meant to us.”

“Ohh…” he whispered, as his eyes welled up. “Is everything alright now?”

“Yes, thank God, we’re all good now. She’s recovering,” the mother replied, sniffling.

“I’m glad,” Tyler nodded, a genuine smile on his face. “Come on, then, let’s take a picture, the three of us,” he suggested, to the woman’s content. After some persuasion, Emma turned her head as well, but was too shy to look at the camera. Instead, she stared at the grinning Tyler, while her mom took a photo on her phone.

Even though there were tears in his eyes, Tyler was smiling the whole way back to the hotel.

“Why are you so quiet, love?” Mrs Edwards asked, watching her son silently stare through the tinted windows.

“Nothing, just thinking,” he shook his head, feeling warmth in his chest.

~~

It was a few days later when Samson and Hank headed off to meet Melanie Roy, the CEO of Argent Media. The mega corporation was planning a two-day festival for that fall and had already booked Ash as the headliner for the first day. Roy, one of the biggest media moguls in the USA, wanted Samson to headline the second day. The woman needed the festival to succeed and she knew Samson would be able to draw a big crowd, especially since he would have new material to perform. It was to be a win-win deal.

“Have you ever met Melanie Roy?” Samson asked. He was sitting in the passenger seat of Hank’s Toyota Avalon, drumming his fingers against his leg to the rhythm of the music playing on the stereo.

“No, but I’ve spoken to people who have,” the manager replied, his eyes on the road.

“And?”

“Well, all the guys said she’s a bitch. Some may have used even harsher language,” Hank smirked. “The women mainly loved her, saying she’s a boss. Anyway, they all agree she’s quite intimidating.”

“Hey, I’ve seen Anna without makeup, I don’t get scared that easily,” the singer quipped.

“I know you don’t. You’re quite fearless,” the other guy smiled. “Sometimes even scary.”

“Hah! Only when I put too much eyeliner,” Samson replied, running fingers through his fair. “So, do you think we should be afraid of her?”

“I don’t think so. This festival thing could be really good for you. You’ll be remembered as the headliner of the first ever Argent Fest. Of course, if it ever becomes a big deal. If not, at least you’ll make a bank off of it.”

The head office of Argent Media was a tall, modern building, a masterpiece of concrete and glass, over thirty floors high. The company name stood above the entrance in large, golden letters - in all caps, of course.

Samson and Hank entered the building, immediately greeted by an overly pleasant receptionist standing behind her desk in the lobby. The building looked even more polished and expensive on the inside, with minimalist furniture in shades of gold and black. Even though they arrived with ten minutes to spare, they were told Melanie was already waiting for them up in her office on the top floor.

A long elevator ride later, and the pair were finally there, inside a large, stylish office. Melanie, a short, slim woman with dark skin and even darker hair welcomed them with a big smile that revealed her pearly white teeth. She wore an impeccable pink suit and sandals to match. Samson liked her already. Even though in her late forties, the woman was clearly taking excellent care of herself - or at least her plastic surgeons did.

“Welcome! Mr Flynn, Mr Silverton, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she greeted them, shaking hands with both of them. “Would you like anything to drink? Coffee, tea… Something stronger, perhaps?”

“Coffee is fine, thank you,” Hank replied, as he sat down at a conference table next to Samson.

“Same here, thank you,” Samson agreed.

Melanie sat at the head of the table, their drinks arriving a minute later. While the three were sipping their coffee, small talk flowed seamlessly, as if they were just three old friends catching up after not seeing each other for a few months. Samson was pleasantly surprised with the interest Melanie showed in his music, hobbies, and even his pet cat. Just a few minutes into the conversation and he was feeling relaxed and comfortable.

Of course, that was precisely when Melanie changed the topic to business.

“We are very excited about Argent Fest. It’s something the company - and myself personally - have been wanting to do for a long time. I honestly believe it will be the next big go-to music festival, and I would love it if you would help us make it an even more amazing experience for everyone this year.”

“We were very intrigued when we first heard about it,” Hank admitted.

“Yes, and we hear Ash already signed on to perform, right?” Samson asked.

“Correct. He’ll be headlining the first day, but as you know, the festival lasts two days. That’s where you come in,” Melanie explained. “We are still making the final arrangements, but the plan is for the festival to be on November 4 and 5. Six stages and over thirty performers on those two days. Of course, you’d be on the main stage. As for the length of your set, you’ll be given the most time, of course - one and a half hours.”

“That all sounds great from where we’re standing,” said Hank, already checking Samson’s tour schedule on his phone. “Yes, November 3 is your Helsinki date. After that, you’ve got Copenhagen on the seventh.”

“Right, that’s perfect timing then,” Samson said, leaning over to look at the calendar.

“I’m glad we agree on that. Oh, and just one more little thing - we would require that you refrain from performing your new music until the festival, so that we can give our audience an exclusive, so to speak,” Melanie added, a sly smile on her lips.

“But… my album just came out. My tour starts in a few weeks, of course I’m gonna be singing my new songs,” Samson frowned, looking at the woman with confusion. “You’re asking me not to perform my new music for four months?”

“Heh, Mr. Flynn, I was well aware of your upcoming tour, which is exactly why I insisted on having this meeting with you in person. I’m sure you’ll agree that this is a one-time opportunity I’m offering you here and, well, tours come and go. You’ll have more of them, I’m sure,” Melanie shrugged.

Samson and Hank quickly looked at each other, before the latter spoke again. “Ms Roy, do you understand what you’re asking us to do here? We can’t just change the entire setlist three weeks before the tour starts. People have bought tickets because they want to hear the new music. Samson, the band, the dancers, everyone’s been training hard for this.”

“Exactly, I can’t just cut over half of my setlist,” Samson spoke again, getting increasingly more passionate. He had been working way too hard for this, dancing his butt off in the studio, learning new choreography with his dancers and practicing those live vocals. Besides, if he was to cut the new songs from the tour, he would barely have enough material to fill a sixty-minute show. No, what she was asking was impossible, he thought.

“I’m sure Samson has enough songs in his repertoire to fill the set one way or another,” Melanie looked pointedly at them. “You’ll still be giving people new music, only a few months later, at my festival. Think of it as… building the anticipation. The more you keep them waiting, the hungrier they get. Imagine the reaction you’ll get when you take that stage. It will be a show for the ages. So, gentlemen, do we have a deal?”