Chapter 2:
Spotlights and Shadows
Vinyl was spinning around in her desk chair. Though foalish, she still found the act quite amusing. If anypony saw her, however, she would insist that it helped her thinking process. Shaking her head, she sighed and flipped off her monitor.
The unicorn rummaged around in her saddlebag, eventually procuring and pulling out the business card which she had received last night. Vinyl hadn’t called the cellist yet; she had been putting it off for most of the day. With the unpleasant experience looming in her sights, she hadn't been productive at all: talking to snobbish earth ponies was not particularly high on her list of things to do, and neither, frankly, was using the telephone. Together, the two amounted to an activity that fell somewhere between listening to somepony tune a banjo and going shopping the day before Hearth’s Warming Eve.
With a last forlorn glance at the card, she levitated the phone and punched in the number listed. Suspending the phone near her ear, Vinyl waited for the cellist to pick up, vaguely hoping that she wouldn’t.
To Vinyl’s dismay, however, a faint click signified the phone connecting. “Hello?” the cellist’s voice wafted over the line. There were several other ponies talking and laughing in the background.
The unicorn glanced down at the speech she’d prepared for the phone conversation; she didn’t think she'd feel comfortable ad-libbing. “Hello, this is Vinyl Scratch, we spoke last night. I was calling to sched—”
“Yes, yes,” the earth pony cut in. “I know who you are.” Octavia’s words weren’t entirely distinct. They were slow, and seemed to run together breathlessly into long, drawn out notes. “I have caller ID, you know.”
“Well, I, uh… thought it was proper to introduce oneself when communicating by phone,” Vinyl grasped for words, trying to salvage her preparations. There was a definite change in the cellist's demeanor. Vinyl was disoriented; she had been expecting the same pretentious treatment she had been given last night.
“Well, who actually does that?” the effect of Octavia’s indignation was somewhat compromised by the comically drunk sound of her voice. Vinyl had a bizarre urge to laugh. She checked the card again, but it was definitely the right number. “Anyway,” the cellist forced the conversation back to the point. “What do you want?”
Vinyl tried to remember her conversation with the stern, prissy mare that she had been introduced to the previous night. It didn’t help when a cheer burst over the phone from the party behind Octavia. “You… um… wanted to discuss the merits of signing with Raincloud Sounds,” the words came back to her with a rush.
“Oh, right.” There was a pause, and what sounded like liquid sloshing around in a plastic cup. When the inebriated mare spoke again, the slurring came back with renewed vigor. “How does tomorrow evening sound? We could meet at Twisket’s. It’s a lovely coffee shop on the corner of Oak and Mane.”
“That sounds fine. What time?”
The cellist didn’t answer. After a few moments of silence, Vinyl heard a burst of static roar over the phone. It slowly died down, and another welled up. With a sinking feeling, Vinyl realized that she was hearing snoring; Octavia must have fallen asleep on the phone.
“That sounds lovely,” Vinyl spit bitterly at the receiver. She wondered if the cellist would be sober enough to walk when she came to the coffee shop; she doubted whether Octavia would even remember their conversation in the morning.
Vinyl set the phone back on its hook, shaking her head. When she had first met the cellist, she wouldn’t have believed that the mare had ever even had a drink, much less gotten to the state in which Vinyl had discovered her. Octavia had been a completely different pony; it was strange to think how such an upstanding mare could have degenerated to the state she was in so quickly.
Allowing herself a quick chuckle at the strange situation she had found herself in, she turned back to her wubs. Time to reverse the unproductivity of the morning; DJ-PON3 needed to eat.
Reinvigorated, Vinyl started to work.
* * *
Vinyl had left early. She had allotted herself extra time to pick out a dress― she had figured that whatever coffee shop Octavia had picked out, it would probably be fancy enough to require her to look nice― but she hadn't expected this; the “coffee shop” was a full-blown restaurant. And from what it looked like, a very expensive one. She hoped she had enough bits in her saddlebag to cover the bill.
As she walked under the arbor that marked the entrance to the patio seating, she caught sight of Octavia, waiting for her. The mare, although she hadn't seen Vinyl yet, glanced impatiently at her watch. Really? Vinyl thought incredulously. You didn't give me a time, and now you're going to chew ME out about being late?
A waiter came over to her, eying her strange choice of attire. She had on an open-backed green dress, with, of course, her customary shades; she never went out in public without them.
Vinyl never had been one for formal attire. She shot a glare at the cellist, who was absentmindedly staring at the menu, sitting at her table across the restaurant. Vinyl had to admit it: she looked good. She was wearing a simple gray dress, slightly shimmery, with a pearl necklace and earrings. The DJ blushed in spite of herself. Yes, Octavia was very pretty, and, well, if she was interested in mares...
“Ahem,” the waiter jarred her out of her thoughts.
“Oh, right.” Vinyl shook head, trying to clear it. She only succeeded in shaking her mane down over her glasses. “I'm with Ms. Philharmonica,” she told him, nodding at the cellist's table.
“Yes, right this way.” Vinyl followed the stallion across the room.
As they approached, Octavia glanced up, but quickly looked back down at her menu, blushing. Apparently she still had their phone conversation fresh in her mind as well.
“Hey,” Vinyl nodded to the cellist, sitting down.
In an awkward fashion, owing to the two mares seated across the table not speaking nor looking at each other, the waiter took their orders. He then retreated to the kitchen.
After holding up her shield a moment longer, the earth pony looked up and found the unicorn's eyes. “I sincerely apologize for the phone call last night; I was extremely rude and unprofessional.” Vinyl levitated a dinner roll and a pat of butter off of the tray on the table. She had a feeling that this excuse would take a while. “And I do want to learn more about Raincloud; it's supposed to be the fastest growing record label in Equestria, isn't it?”
“Esh,” Vinyl informed her dinner guest, nearly choking on the roll in her mouth. She swallowed while Octavia's slightly disgusted frown deepened. “Yes,” the unicorn repeated herself with a tad more clarity. “It's been growing steadily since I met Darnell.”
“And how did you meet, ah, Mr. McCloud?” Octavia was splitting a dinner roll with a knife, looking at Vinyl as though she was trying to set an example. Vinyl knew that it was considered bad manners to eat with magic if you were dining with a pegasus or earth pony, but she chose to ignore this fact. It was certainly much more entertaining to watch the cellist grow increasingly annoyed.
“We go way back. I went to Canterlot University with him.”
“What class were you?” Octavia looked mildly interested.
“I, uh... didn't graduate,” Vinyl admitted, smiling sheepishly at the cellist.
“Oh.” Octavia's disapproval was palpable.
The waiter returned, this time with their beverages. The edge of Vinyl's lips curled up slightly when she saw Octavia's drink: red wine. The phone call replayed in her head, and it must have in the earth pony's too, since the red tinge in her cheeks increased slightly. The unicorn had some strange sense that she was competing with the cellist somehow, and that she had somehow just gleaned a tiny advantage.
Vinyl took a sip of her own drink― diet coke. She could feel Octavia's eyes boring into the top of her head. Okay, this hadn't seemed like a diet coke place, but hey, it was on the menu.
“So, do tell,” the cellist initiated the conversation again. “About how many artists are signed with Raincloud currently?”
“The Canterlot Division, or all branches?”
“Canterlot, naturally.”
“About eighty musicians, give or take. Which, considering the size of Canterlot, is a fair percentage of the musically inclined ponies in the city.” She took another sip of her diet coke, only to be met with more disapproving glares from across the table.
“So how do you find the label?” Octavia took a sip of her wine.
“Fine. Darnell's always been chill, y'know?”
Octavia did not seem to know, judging by the frown wrinkling her forehead, but she elected to stay quiet.
“Anyway, I've been pushing stuff out with him occasionally for almost three years now, and I've never had a problem.”
“Occasionally? Aren't you a full-time musician?”
“No, actually; it's kind of a day job. I work nights as a DJ, so Darnell deals with me to get his artists play at the clubs.”
“Ah.” Vinyl would have thought it impossible beforehoof, but Octavia's frown deepened even more. The DJ wondered if the lines would stay permanently etched on the cellist's face.
“Well, I mean, we probably wouldn't be playing your stuff in the clubs, but...”
“I would assume not,” Octavia told the DJ tartly, refilling her wine glass.
The two lapsed into another awkward silence, which was only broken when their waiter stopped at their table again.
“For you, madame, the chopped dandelion salad.” He placed a small plate consisting of a few greens in front of Octavia. “And for you, ma'am, a large hay fries.”
Octavia's nose wrinkled. “Hay fries?” she raised an eyebrow at Vinyl.
“Yup!” the unicorn was pouring ketchup over them now, which the waiter had also brought over.
“You do realize that this isn't exactly... that kind of restaurant, right?”
Vinyl shrugged. Damn, these hay fries were good. She had to admit that she had been trying to get Octavia's goat when she ordered them, but they were definitely worth it. That and seeing the look of shock on the cellist's pinched face.
“Well,” Vinyl started back in. “Anything else that you'd like to know?”
“Ah, yes. What's the cut?”
“It's the best I've found in Canterlot. Darnell charges a 15% take off the top, unless you fail to sell more than 100 albums, at least, I'm assuming the pricing is the same for classical. It's not exactly a field I'm an expert in.”
“Yet I understand that you were let into Canterlot University on a musical scholarship for jazz?” asked Octavia, draining the last of her second wineglass. Vinyl's head jerked up. Somepony had done her homework.
“Yes― I was in the field once. But, um, certain situations came up.”
“Am I also to understand that you are the daughter of the famous musician Theloneighus Monk?” Somepony had definitely done her homework.
“Erm... yes. I didn't take his last name for... obvious reasons. That's why I have my mother's maiden name.”
“I see.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, when I went to do a musical background check― which, naturally, I would always do before meeting an artist that I'd never heard of― I found some recordings of you in the Canterlot Public Library.
Vinyl's hay fry caught in her throat. “How old were they?”
“I don't recall.” A small smile had stolen over Octavia's muzzle. “But you were playing piano.”
Vinyl gulped.
“Frankly, Ms. Scratch, I've heard very few ponies with your natural ability. I've actually come here for two reasons. One was to learn about Raincloud Sounds. The other was to ask a favor of you.”
Vinyl didn't like where this conversation was headed.
“Now, you of course know about the graduation requirements for Canterlot University; for my term dissertation, I've been composing a solo piece for cello. Unfortunately, my adviser has asked me to stretch my comfort level a little bit, and at least write a duet. So, naturally, I picked one of my favorite instruments.” Octavia popped another dandelion head into her mouth. “The piano.”
“Now wait a second―”
“I'd be honored if you would record with me, Ms. Scratch. Even if we do have somewhat... differing musical tastes.”
Vinyl looked at the wine bottle. She knew Octavia had drunk several glasses over the course of their dinner, and it was almost empty. She wondered what effect the alcohol might be having on Octavia’s decision making; why would the cellist want her― her of all ponies― to accompany her for her semester project? Vinyl thought back to the performance Octavia had given the other night. In a bizarre, twisted way, it sort of made sense. After hearing the cello prodigy in convert, Vinyl was sure that Octavia was true to her music. She would want the accompanist who would best compliment her playing style. Somepony who had the same passion for the music as she did. Somepony like Vinyl in those recordings.
The trouble was, that was a different Vinyl. She'd never have the same love of the music, the same soul, as she'd had before her father had left her. The unicorn felt her throat choke up. She'd had years to escape that shadow he'd left on her heart, and she was beginning to think she might have to bear the same pains forever.
“I... I don't know,” Vinyl sighed. “I've never been one for the spotlight.” Yet there was something oddly alluring about the cellist's offer. Something that might or might not be related to the particular cellist that she would be playing with. The DJ shook her head, trying to clear it.
“Well, just promise me you'll consider it, okay?” Octavia drained the last dregs of wine out of her glass; the bottle was empty.
“All right.” Vinyl could agree to that. She knew she'd be thinking about the offer anyway. “So,” she changed the subject, “do you think you'll end up signing with Raincloud?”
Octavia smiled. “Well, it's sounded pretty good so far. Tell me more about Mr. McCloud...”
And so the two talked on as the sun set over the tallest tower of the royal palace. It seemed to Vinyl as though it hadn’t been more than a few minutes when the waiter appeared by their table again with their check. The unicorn had a feeling that Octavia would expect her to pay, as the host; she glanced at the bill.
150 bits? Vinyl balked at the paper. Frickin’ wine. She grudgingly took the amount out of her saddlebags, trying not to think of how much lighter they were getting. Octavia smiled innocently at her from across the table. Vinyl rolled her eyes.
The two ponies got up from the table, splitting away into opposite directions at the entrance to the restaurant. As Celestia lowered the sun over the horizon, Vinyl felt a strange feeling well up, a feeling she hadn’t felt since before her father left. It was that sort of curl up and hug something, sing a song out loud to the world, real belly-laugh sort of happiness that always keeps a smile on your face. The feeling that comes from loving life, down to every instant, every eccentricity it throws your way, and living as though each day was the last.
Meandering her way through the darkened streets, the DJ made her way home.