The meal had come to a close. The food, at least the portions that the ponies remembered eating, was delectable. But it had left a definite bad taste in each mouth. Hoity Toity offered to pay. Nopony particularly cared enough to argue.
The restaurant had been slowly filling up as the meal ticked by. Octavia had never really taken the time to appreciate how large a restaurant really was until it seemed as though every patron was staring at her. She straightened her bowtie, trying desperately to appear nonchalant. Vinyl never left her side, her defiant stare more than making up for Octavia’s attempts to avoid eye-contact.
Fancy Pants walked just behind them, going over the new information. Particularly how he could possibly turn this situation around. There had to be a way to do so; after all, no publicity is bad publicity. All this had really done was to draw attention to Syncopated Records. And he could work with attention. The question was how to—
“Fancy Pants?” asked a timid voice.
The business pony turned and found Trans Script, looking very ashamedly towards the floor.
“Miss Script,” he said calmly.
“I’m sorry Fancy Pants, I’m so sorry.” The former secretary felt her eyes well-up with tears. I can’t cry now. There’s no point in crying now. I already messed everything up.
“You should have come to me.”
“I know,” whispered Trans Script.
“I could have helped. I could have done something.”
“I know.” A few rebellious tears found their way down Trans Script’s face. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
“I’m sorry Miss Script,” said Fancy Pants.
The mare’s head snapped up. “Y—you don’t have to apologize! It’s my fault! I was the one acting like a selfish foal, I should have do—” Fancy Pants cut her off with a swift movement of his hoof.
“You didn’t trust me. I hired you but I never instilled the trust necessary to be your employer. For that reason I am sorry. You are not absolved of what you have done, but I realize the part that I played.” Fancy Pants offered a small smile. “Both of us will be better for what we have learned.”
Trans Script was sobbing now, trying to hold back her tears and failing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Fancy Pants nodded. “I know. I wish you luck in your future endeavours, Miss Script.”
Trans Script stopped walking, allowing Fancy Pants to pull ahead. She knew that she had been dismissed. There was no point hanging around, especially when Fancy Pants had never once used the word ‘forgiven.’ I swear, thought Trans Script, if there’s ever any way I can make it up to them, I will.
***
The members of Syncopated Records gathered outside of the restaurant. Fancy Pants hung back, allowing the musicians to enter the carriage as he had a conversation with Spokes.
“Terrible thing, takin’ pleasure out of the personal life of others like that,” said Spokes with a shake of his head. “Private things should stay private.”
Fancy Pants sighed. “It’s simply the fashion these days. Know everything about everypony, especially the bad things.”
Spokes shook his head in disapproval. They exchanged a few more words over the general decadence of society before Fancy Pants walked back to enter the carriage.
“Wait! Wait up!” cried a voice. A mint-green unicorn stumbled out of the restaurant, her uniform slightly disheveled. Fancy Pants stopped obligingly, waiting for her at the foot of the carriage.
“Our waitress,” remarked Fancy Pants when she had trotted close enough. “Lyra Heartstrings, was it?”
“Yeah! That’s me. Lyra Heartstrings,” she said, holding out her hoof.
“A pleasure, Miss Heartstrings. How can I help you?”
Lyra fidgeted slightly. “Well,er, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, but I heard that you just let somepony off?”
Fancy Pants was barely able to hold back a wince. He was able to cover it with a smile. “Yes, that did just happen.”
“Great!” Lyra breathed a sigh of relief. And then she realized what she said. “Wait, not great! That’s bad, very bad! Wait, no it’s not very bad! I mean, it’s bad but I don’t think it’s very bad. What I mean to say is...” Lyra struggled with her words for a few more moments. He shoulders sagged. “You know what? Never mind. Have a nice night, sir.”
Fancy Pants smiled good-naturedly. “Miss Heartstrings, I can’t offer you a job, but I would be more than happy to offer you an interview.”
Lyra’s head snapped up. “What?”
“An interview,” replied the businesspony. He tilted his head slightly. “Unless that’s not what you were asking for?”
“No! I mean, yes! Yes! Please! I’d be more than happy to go in for an interview! I’d gotten so bored of working at the restaurant; I never got a chance to write my songs or anything. I’d love to be able to work for a music company!”
“Wonderful enthusiasm,” said Fancy Pants with a nod. “I’ll schedule the interview for some time Wednesday afternoon. Is that fine?”
“Yes, it’s perfect!” Lyra grinned widely. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
Fancy Pants nodded and climbed into the carriage. “Wednesday of next week. Don’t forget.”
“I won’t! Thank you again!”
The carriage pulled away, leaving behind a very pleased Lyra Heartstrings. Her grin hadn’t faded in the slightest.
“This,” said the unicorn, “is gonna be so awesome!”
***
The members of Syncopated Records sat in their carriage, each of them preoccupied with their own thoughts. Three of them had their eyes glued to their windows, watching the streets of Canterlot pass by without really noticing anything. One pair of eyes, hidden behind bright purple shades, were glued to Octavia Philharmonica.
Has this changed anything? wondered Vinyl. I really, really hope not. But she was so nervous in the restaurant; so self-conscious about whether or not anypony was staring at her. And then there’s that whole thing about a mistake!
Vinyl watched Octavia, the slight scrunch in the cellist’s muzzle as she was lost in her own thoughts, the way her satin hair fell, her perfect violet eyes reflected in the window pane.
The DJ blinked. Woah, she thought to herself, I really do like this mare. Which would only make it hurt all the more if Octavia was having second thoughts. I need to speak to her.
“That’s it!” shouted Fancy Pants.
“Shit!” shouted Harpo as he jumped. The other two gave a slightly smaller start.
The businesspony brought a hoof to his forehead. “How could I have been so stupid! It’s such a simple idea, I won’t even have to change much!” He turned towards the musicians. “Tell me, why didn’t I think of it sooner?”
“... Pardon?” said Octavia.
The carriage glided to a stop at the foot of Fancy Pants’s manor. The elder stallion practically vaulted out.
“Great job as always, Spokes!” called Fancy Pants. “Expect a pay raise soon!” He bounded through the doorway, calling for Fleur de Lis all the while.
Spokes glanced at the three musicians, who had only just filed out of the carriage. “What got into him?”
All three of them shrugged.
Spokes shrugged in return. “Whatever. If it gets me a raise, then I ain’t complainin’.” He signaled to the other stallions and they drove off.
Harpo and Octavia stepped towards the manor. Vinyl reached out a hoof, lightly grabbing onto the grey mare’s tail.
“Octy,” she said quietly, “do you mind waiting for a bit?”
Octavia looked worriedly at the DJ. She glanced at Harpo. The composer’s ‘cute moment’ sensors [Patent Pending] were going off at full alarm. It was a real struggle for him to shrug and enter the mansion, but he managed to do so. If only to sit at a window and make sure that nothing went wrong.
“Vinyl, what’s wrong?” asked Octavia.
The DJ scuffed at the ground, looking everywhere but at the cellist. “So... pretty crazy thing with the newspaper, isn’t it?”
“Mortifying.”
“... That means bad, right?”
Octavia couldn’t help the smallest of smiles as she sighed exasperatedly. “Yes, Vinyl. Bad. It’s very bad. As in, it will be difficult for me to show my face in public. For years.”
Vinyl felt a twinge of doubt. She tried to play it off with a laugh. “Yeah, it really was a mistake, wasn’t it? Stupid of us to go out.”
Octavia looked closely at the DJ. “Vinyl, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
“Nothing! I’m fine, Tavi, I swear.”
“I’m not buying it.”
Vinyl looked up at the mare before her. She took off her shades and fiddled with them. “It’s just... I’m worried.”
“Worried? Over what?”
“Well, over us! I mean, you’re going on about your mistake, there’s a picture of us together, you can’t seem to handle being looked at... it just threw me for a loop.” She paused for a moment. “Tavi, what does this change? I doubt that we were getting somewhere and then...” The statement trailed off.
Octavia sighed and hugged Vinyl. Admittedly, it was a very awkward hug given the cellist’s limited hugging experience, but it was the thought that counted. “Vinyl, don’t be such an idiot.”
“... What?”
“It would take more than this to make me decide to stop seeing you. After all, we haven’t even been on a proper date.”
Vinyl chuckled slightly. “So first the date, then you’ll dump me?”
“Possibly.”
“Thanks. That really helps out my confidence.”
“Oh, be quiet Vinyl.” Neither of them moved to break the hug.
“Well, maybe if you kissed me.”
“Are you still on that?”
“Octy, you’ll never get me to stop saying it. Now pucker up.” Vinyl made obnoxious kissing noises. Octavia sharply hit her on the nose.
The DJ sighed as she pulled away. “Well, I guess that that part of us isn’t gonna change because of some newspaper.”
The cellist raised an eyebrow. “I still don’t see what that has to do with our... relationship.”
“Tavi, what the hell are you talking about? A picture of us was printed on pretty much every newspaper in Canterlot. That’s a lot of missed jobs just because we’re fillyfoolers.”
Realization dawned on Octavia. “Vinyl, that doesn’t matter... as in it doesn’t matter at all.”
“... What?”
The cellist patted her favorite DJ’s shoulder. “Vinyl, this is Canterlot. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, the two most benevolent, loving, caring, accepting, and powerful living beings in Equestria live about 3 miles away. For that reason, the Canterlot elite has become rather progressive in some regards.”
A moment passed. Another moment. Vinyl blinked. “You’re saying... that we were worrying... for nothing?”
“Not nothing exactly,” replied Octavia. “Sexuality is not much of a cause for discrimination, though some ponies do consider it thus. However, ‘class’ and ‘image’,” Octavia said the words with evident distaste, “is a completely different matter.”
Fancy Pants poked his head through the doorway. “Hey! You two! Get in here! I am being very excitable, theatrical, and clever and I’m missing two of my musicians!” The businesspony disappeared back into his manor.
Vinyl grinned. “Boss is calling.”
“‘Twould be best to follow his heeds,” replied Octavia.
“... That means go inside, right?”
“Yes, you lovable dolt. It means that we should go inside.”
Vinyl grinned and stuck her tongue out. The two walked into the manor side by side.
***
“Now, I will begin my ideas from the point where I realized that two of my musicians were outside having a little lovers’ conversation.” Fancy Pants stood in front of a large wooden table. The musicians and Fleur de Lis were seated, watching the pacing businesspony.
Vinyl leaned over towards Harpo. “How long did it take him to realize?” she whispered.
“About five minutes,” responded the composer. “It was really funny.”
Fleur caught their eye and smiled, nodding her agreement. The three had a fit of barely stifled laughter.
“Hey!” said Fancy Pants. “You three, calm down or I’ll have you in detention.”
The three lapsed into an amused silence.
“Thank you.” Fancy Pants coughed into a hoof. “Now my dear musicians, you had a rather great success with your first performance. The Lighthouse Cafe contacted me and told me to pass on their complements, and to make sure that they maintained a connection with Syncopated Records. Job well done to you. However, this is only a part of what I want to accomplish.”
Fancy Pants paced to the side, years of giving speeches with movement kicking in. He continued speaking as he walked. “There is a particular reason behind the name of Syncopated Records. Syncopation, as you know, refers to an emphasis that falls in between beats in order to avoid having a static piece of music. It keeps things alive, prevents uniformity and is an idea maintained in every musical genre. The recording label that takes its name from syncopation should do the same.” He turned excitedly towards the table. “We will exist in most every music genre known to ponies; we will play at concert halls and jazz clubs and nightclubs alike. This is what I set out to do.”
“And Blueblood attempted to throw a wrench in that plan,” added Fleur.
“Exactly,” responded Fancy Pants. A grin spread across his face. “He has failed. Indeed, he has failed spectacularly.”
The musicians had the same look of confusion.
Fancy Pants leaned forward slightly, resting his hooves on the table. “You three have proven that you can thrive within the more niche jazz clubs. The night before that you proved that you could meld within a nightclub. You have done exactly what I wanted to; you are appealing to two very distinct groups.” A malicious glint colored Fancy Pants’s gaze. “Prince Blueblood only served to spread that word. And now we only have to prove that you can conduct yourself with poise in the company of the canterlot elite.”
Harpo raised his hoof.
“Yes, Harpo?” asked Fancy Pants.
“How exactly will we prove that? Blueblood basically blacklisted us with his little expose.”
“Because, Harpo, I have already made arrangements. And our hosts are not likely to break this arrangement.”
“Hosts?” asked Vinyl.
A touch of manic glee could be seen in Fancy Pants’s grin. “Yes, hosts. You see, I have already taken the liberty of arranging your next assignment! Don’t worry, it’s a rather simple one. All you three have to do is make a positive impression at a party being held by some of the Canterlot elite. Your first public social appearance! Isn’t it exciting?” He looked around, evidently pleased with himself.
The other three musicians were not so enthused.
Fancy Pants waved a hoof at them. “Oh, you three are no fun! This is our best chance, really! Prince Blueblood wanted others to believe that you were not ‘fit’ for Canterlot life, what better way is there to prove him wrong?”
Vinyl raised a hoof. “Isn’t there a better way to get back at him? Like kicking in his teeth or something?”
Harpo nodded in agreement.
Fancy Pants hid his amusement behind a bemused stare. “No. And you only have three days to prepare yourself for the gathering. I expect each of you to be on your best behavior.” He kept his eyes on Vinyl the entire time.
“What, you don’t think I can handle myself at a fancy party?” Vinyl put a hoof to her chest. “I’m offended!”
“It’s not a matter of handling yourself, Vinyl,” replied Fancy Pants. “You have to make a good impression. All of you do. That means observing the classic structure of attending a party.”
Octavia caught her breath and threw a sideways look at Vinyl. “As in, greetings and small talk and... manners?”
Vinyl sneezed loudly into her hoof before wiping it on the table. “I have manners!”
Fancy Pants nodded. “Yes, Octavia. Everything befitting a pony of wealth.”
“Oh, dear,” muttered Octavia. “How long did you say we had until the party?”
“Four days. You have the rest of today and the next two to prepare yourselves.”
Vinyl shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Oh, dear,” repeated the cellist. “We’ll have to do everything?”
“Yes,” replied Fancy Pants. “Which reminds me, you’ll need proper attire. There is a wonderful designer visiting Canterlot at the moment. Fleur, would you be able to introduce these three to Miss Rarity?”
“Of course, dear.”
“Fantastic,” said Fancy Pants. “Preparations must begin immediately. Off you go.”