Chapter 28 – Black Cat (2)

Outside the Main Building, Eppie stretched out her body against the brick facade.

“Whelp, that was useful,” she said to Eric. “I guess we should find someone to find Mio.”

“Charlene is the obvious choice,” Eric agreed as he studied the other students staring in their direction. “You got anyone else in mind?”

“Not really,” Eppie replied. “So things are moving fast, eh?”

Eric wasn’t looking at her, but at the quadrangle.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“Halloween,” her lawyer said, looking at her all-black theatre get-up. “You doing anything?”

“You know, I totally forgot about that,” Eppie became suddenly aware that, indeed, she really was out of the loop. With all the practice and the songwriting and the Valorie drama, she had completely forgotten about America’s hyper-commercial season of spirits. In truth, she hadn’t celebrated Halloween in as long as she could recall. Their gated community was full of very private people who kept to themselves, and the C-suite rarely indulged in the festivities they organised for their workers through middle managers.

“I hear that Halloween is an ordeal here, in LAPA.” Eric looked at her again, then at the kids in the quad. “I take it you didn’t receive any invitations?”

“Not at all.”

Eric gave her a strange look. “You’re telling me that with your popularity, your songs, your number of friends on MySpace, you…”

He stopped.

“When’s the last time you checked your MySpace?”

Eppie suddenly felt sodden as cold sweat permeated her cheap t-shirt.

“When’s the last time you checked your email notifications?”

Her brows grew equally drenched with realisation.

“JESUS CHRIST, Eppie! Go check them now!”

With a glowering Eric looming over her, Eppie turned on her computer and checked her Social Media summaries.

“I should really read these emails…” Eppie confessed with both eyes closed. “I don’t deserve Miss Filmore.”

With professional efficiency, she tore through the emails, penned a few thank yous, answered the 3 questions, and affirmed that, yes, she would go dressed as a cat, whatever that meant.

“Okay, now what?” She turned to her Newfoundland.

Eric pointed at himself, reflecting her confusion. “Now, you go find a cat costume, I guess…”

While they walked down to the Old Music Building to see if they could beg for favours from the costumes department like every other student who lived on campus and had no access to craft supplies, Eric had a few more questions for her.

“You have a photo sesh at Lightbox Studios next week, after Halloween dies down,” her lawyer reminded her. “Are you ready for the fame? It won’t be instant, but if Umbrella really hits the no.1 spot, you won’t be an unknown anymore. Sony will also replace your art covers with your portraits, for obvious reasons.”

The reason, of course, was that a good face sold more downloads.
The very same reason Ebooks had to have outlandish covers.

“We should keep Vincent’s cover as the Almond Flowers,” Eppie said after a moment. The song was a tribute to a great artist, not a vehicle for her ego.

“Fair,” Eric replied. “I’ll pass it on to the team.”

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At the entrance to the Old Music Building, Eric bid her adieu.

Costumes lay in the older section of the building, largely left untouched by the renovation carried out by Omnia Construction, down from the East Wing and in the basement. She passed a dozen others who carried costume bags, and so arrived with confidence when she saw the sign that read:

WARDROBE — AUTHORISED ENTRY ONLY

The door was askew and sounded like there were already people inside.

She knocked and entered.

Inside, Wardrobes was long and low-ceilinged, lit by bulbs that must have been there since the building was erected in the 50s. Having seen Sony’s Wardrobe, however, LAPA’s felt minute by comparison, consisting only of thirty or so racks of assorted, sorted genres, labelled by production years.