Never mind.
“Thanks,” Mikayla says.
“So, how are you liking the new job? I can only guess you’re here tonight because they wanted you at Ultracity.”
“What, you don’t think I’d get invited to a daXx party unless my job was daXx-adjacent?” She smiles.
I smile.
“The job’s great,” she tells me in answer to her own rhetoric. “I’m heading up the design for a special vinyl edition of theSuper SurgerEP. It’s going to have a neon Bauhaus feel to it; I’m looking forward to putting it all together.”
Because of our year-long past relationship, I know what Bauhaus means, so I can draw a mental image. “That’ll look amazing.”
Mikayla has won awards for her work, including the art for my second album. She directed the photography (sun-faded film emulation) then used a rugged handwritten font for the title and headers, and laid out the images and lyrics in a minimalist editorial style. It was hailed as “a look book for the modern country man, with an air of summer nostalgia.” I don’t ever pull out that album because it might as well have Mikayla’s fingerprints all over it. That, and I’m not passionate about the songs I wrote (or co-wrote) for it. It was during the photo shoot that I met her in the first place.
Over the next forty-five minutes—probably longer—she tells me about all she’s done since we broke up, the connections she made that helped her get a foot in the door at Ultracity, the interview process, and her first few days there and how the label differs from SiNKroNyze. Then she asks about my deal with Glambam (I tell her the whole story of how I ended up getting signed) and my upcoming album (I describe the record’s overalldirection and mention a few songs specifically), and finally, she brings up the subject I’ve been dreading most: Harmony.
“So what’s the deal with you and Harmony Sonora?”
How do I even begin?
“I’m surprised that didn’t come up earlier,” I admit. “Usually that’s the first thing people ask—maybe the second thing if they’re trying to be polite or not seem desperate for the scoop.”
“Glad to know I successfully padded my curiosity with plenty of other questions.” Her tone is lighthearted, but the way she drags her finger around the rim of her glass tells me something different. She only ever does that when she’s nervous. But why would she be nervous? “Where is Harmony, anyway? I’d love to meet her.”
I glance around but don’t see Harmony in the great room. Which is good; I don’t want a witness to this. I don’t want Harmony to know how pathetic I am, sitting in front of my ex right now wondering if she still has feelings for me. “Really? I thought you didn’t like her.”
We never talked about Harmony when we were dating, but I do remember more than once Mikayla changed the radio station after one of Harmony’s songs came on in the car, and another time she commented on the pop-art cover ofThe Harmony Project, saying, “Wellthatwas a choice …”
Mikayla curls her fingers around the stem of her martini glass. “I have nothing against her.”
“You just don’t care for her music.”
“It’s not my favorite. It’s a little angsty.”
I don’t know why, but when Mikayla says this, I feel something akin to what I felt during thePlay By Hearinterview, like I want to come to Harmony’s defense. “Angsty” isn’t an insult, I don’t think, but it feels like a reduction of Harmony’s music.
“Not to mention,” she adds, “that a lot of it hasn’t exactly been friendly toyouthese days. Speaking of which … how did you guys manage to get past that?”
“Every couple says things they regret,” I reason.
“Things like, ‘Everything about you is nothing but fiction’? Or, on your end, ‘She’s a lit match next to gasoline’?”
I narrow my eyes. “You’ve really been following the feud …”
“Hard not to. It’s all anyone can talk about. In fact, just this past Monday, my boss was saying she wished Ultracity had a spectacle like that to draw attention toourartists.”
“A spectacle,” I repeat bitterly.
“Well that’s all it is, isn’t it?” She leans in close and whispers: “A big show?”
My pulse kicks up. “What makes you say that?”
“Come on, Griffin. I know how this works. Fans are more than ready to ship two people who look good and sing well together, and you think, ‘Sure—why not feed into their fantasy?’ It boosts engagement and, subsequently, sales. It’s an easy choice.”
“You think Harmony and I are just doing this for attention?”
I mean, we are. But it didn’t start out like that. The diss tracks were genuine; the label had nothing to do with those. And it’s not like either of us was happy about taking it to the next level when Charles started playing career chess with us.
