I’ve been in Archive City for over a month. Vinyl seems to be nocturnal because of her job, and she’s constantly busy. We’ve had a few passing “Hi, bye” moments with the rare conversation, but it’s akin to you seeing that one person who lives down the street from you now and then. You say just enough to acknowledge their existence.
During the first few days, I started to get the feeling that Vinyl wasn’t happy to have me around. When she was here, I tended to stay in my room until she left, and vice versa. Neither of us really wanted to deal with each other.
We used to be such good friends, but that was years ago. She’s really gone up in the world since then, and now she’s accommodating me out of a sense of duty. I’ve dropped myself into Vinyl’s life, and she held her hooves out to catch me just so I wouldn’t go splat on the sidewalk. Nothing more.
I started reading all the classifieds. I didn’t want to be a burden on her, so I needed a job and to could get my own place. All this past month, I’ve been calling and going to auditions for musicians. Apparently, nopony needed a cellist right now. I even went to a few interviews for secretaries. I needed something.
Today, I was sitting at the antique table, my head facedown in the papers. I couldn’t be asked to do another doomed interview.
“May I help you, Miss Melody?”
Vinyl had a butler. A human butler, mind you. When we were young, my family had an army of servants. Now Vinyl has one. The world inverted, I thought to myself
“I’m alright, Max” I replied.
“Very well, Miss Melody.” he said. He cleared his throat, “Miss Scratch asked me to give you a suggestion in your search for a new career.” He cleared his throat again, as if he didn’t want to say it.
“What did she say?”
“I’m sure Miss Scratch was speaking in jest, but she recommended you look into ‘clothing clubs.’”
“What clubs?”
“Well, Miss Melody, humans have establishments known as, er, strip clubs...” Max started to turn red, “A clothing club is, in a way, a reverse version of one.”
“Ah, I see.” I remember now. Clothing clubs were catching on in Equestria. Basically, a pony danced to the music on stage while they dressed up. They were a controversial subject back home.
“As I said, I’m sure Miss Scratch was speaking in jest.”
“Right, right.” I put my head on the table again, “Has Mi- Vinyl said anything else about me?”
“Only to make sure you were accommodated.”
“Ok.” I sighed, “Max, am I looking in the wrong places for jobs? They always seem to be taken by the time I call or they just don’t want me.”
“The important thing, Miss Melody, is that you’re looking.”
“Everyone in Equestria always says that Archive City is full of jobs.”
“Yes, Miss Melody. However, there are many ponies looking for jobs as well.”
I groaned. “Besides the clothing club, are there any places you’d suggest for a musician?”
“Perhaps you can work at one of Miss Scratch’s establishments. She owns several.”
“That would explain how she affords to live in this penthouse.”
“Will you like me to ask her about it, Miss Melody?”
“Er, no. I don’t think I would do well in a place like that. She and I aren’t really... musically compatible,” I paused and added, “if it comes to it, I’ll think about it.”
“Very well, Miss Melody. Do you require anything else?”
“A lemongrass sandwich would be nice.”
“Of course, Miss Melody.” Max hurried off to the kitchen.
Clothing clubs. That was Vinyl’s sense of humor. I remember she used dance at one before she got her first full time job as a DJ. She was desperate in those days, sort of how I feel now. Hopefully, I won’t get as desperate. That certainly would be a fall from grace, Royal Canterlot Philharmonic to Honey’s Clothing Club.
Max came back with my sandwich and some wine “for my troubles.” After my lunch, I laid on the couch to take a nap. I had just started to doze off when the phone rang.
I immediately jerked myself awake and ran to answer it. Unfortunately, Vinyl’s floors were highly polished wood, so I slipped and fell face first on the floor. Luckily, Max was able to answer the phone before the ringer stopped.
“Good Morning. Miss Scratch’s residence.” Max nodded, “Yes, Miss Melody is available... Of course.” Max handed me the phone, “It’s for you, Miss Melody.”
“Hello?” I said into the phone.
“Octavia Melody?” said a male voice.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“I understand you are currently searching for a job.”
“That’s correct.”
“I have a position open for a musician. If you’re interested, meet me at the Cafe Luna at two. We can discuss the details there.”
“Excuse me, but what position? May I have your name?”
“We’ll discuss it at the cafe.” He hung up.
I paused for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts from the brief phone call.
“Er, I think I just got a job offer.”
“Splendid, Miss Melody. What position?” said Max in a voice that was calmly enthusiastic.
“He didn’t say.” I looked at the phone again. This seemed pretty fishy, considering the guy on the other line didn’t tell me anything about the job. There were so many things that could go wrong. I’ve heard of ponies getting kidnapped and being sold into slavery in far away lands. I could be walking into a trap.
Though, my common sense was overshadowed by my curiosity, as well as my will get out of Vinyl’s penthouse. Besides, he said he needed a musician, so how bad could the work be?
“Max, do you know where the Cafe Luna is?”
“Yes, Miss Melody.”
“Can you write me up some directions? I’m going for a walk.”
***
Cafe Luna was more or less a hole in the wall. If I wasn’t specifically looking for it, I would have missed it. That’s not to say it was badly kept, but it didn’t stick out much out much.
I entered the cafe. There were a few ponies there, but for the most part it was empty. After a moment of me pondering what to do next, a waitress came up to me.
“Are you Miss Octavia Melody?” she asked. She was a reddish unicorn with a messy mane. Her voice sounded somewhat detached, like her mind was somewhere else.
“Er, yes?”
“Right this way, please.” The waitress walked with me to a table where a green unicorn with a blue mane was sitting, sipping a cup of tea. Before I sat down, I got a glimpse of his cutie mark. A chess rook.
“Thanks, Scarlet,” he said to the waitress as she walked off. He was definitely the guy who was on the phone. We sat in silence for a little while he looked me over. Something in me was terrified, and I sat up straight to try to hide it with confidence.
After what felt like an hour (it was probably two minutes) of tense silence, I finally decided to say something. “You called me about a job opening?” I said, trying not to quiver.
“I did, yes.”
“For a musician?”
“Yes.”
We sat in silence again for a few moments. “So why the secret meeting, if it’s just a musician’s job?”
The unicorn took sip of tea. “Playing music is just a part of it. There’s another aspect to the job that I need you to do. What instrument do you play?”
“Cello. I played in the RCP.”
He pondered this for a moment, “You’ll be fine.” He took sip, “There’s a prestigious club in the Pony Sector known as Quinto Imperio. Its clientele are some of the city’s most influential ponies. They are in need of musical talent.” He took another sip, “The pay is around 3,000 infos a month, which is around 3,800 bits. However, I will be paying you an extra 1,500 infos a month for the other aspect.”
“What’s the other aspect of the job?” I said. Originally, I wanted to bolt out of there, but 3,800 bits a month plus the extra money wasn’t small change. That was more than I was making while with the RCP.
In the middle of that train of thought, something else occurred to me. “How did you know about me? I just came to Archive City about a month ago...”
“You filled out the immigration application. I was able to look you up in the Equestrian database from there.”
Oh, right, the application. It was a surprisingly short piece of paper that just asked for a name, special talent, and a few other administrative stuff. They also took your portrait as well as a picture of your cutie mark.
He continued, “As for that other aspect, I need you to give me information on the patrons of the club. What they talking about, what their plans are, anything that might be interesting or useful.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” I said.
“I think that’s the wrong question. A better one would have been ‘Isn’t that immoral?’”
“Is it?”
He took a sip, “That depends on who you ask. The fact is that you will be compensated for your information, and this is one of the better job offers you’re going to get in this city.” He put down his cup and waved over the waitress. “You’re allowed to say no.” He added.
I thought about it. Almost all the ads I was looking at were for around 2,000 infos a month, so this was way better. That said, listening in? I’m a musician, not some sort of spy. My common sense was screaming that this was a bad idea.
“Tell you what,” The unicorn said as he paid for his tea, “I’ll show you the place, and you can decide from there.”
I suppose that wasn’t a bad idea. It would give me some time to think it over. “Alright. I’ll take a look.” I sad.
He nodded, and we got up to get going.
“By the way I didn’t get your name.” I said as he opened the cafe door.
“You can call me Rook.”