Full Exclusive Rights (bxb)

54. World-Famous

   "So, what happened next at the meeting?" I urge the boys to go on, dying of curiosity.

   "Well, we started to play," Jamie answers. "We went on, and on, and on, one song after another for almost two hours. It was a full damn concert. And the agent was just watching, without moving a muscle."

   "He was like the Great Sphinx of Giza, silent and judging," Mikey mumbles in his delicate, quiet voice.

   "Yeah, man, exactly!" Jamie laughs loudly and goes on. "After the tenth song, the guy raised his hand and said only one word 'Perfect!' We stopped and were gazing at him openmouthed, waiting for him to say something more, but he was only scribbling in his notebook. This went on for ten minutes."

   "Seek!" Lucky rolls his eyes. "We were so desperate to hear what he thought, but he was only shaking his head and kept writing in the damn book. Finally, he raised his head and blurted that we were ready for recording and he would make us an offer in two weeks. He also said that the fact that we're five absolutely different kinds of people would be the fuel of our success."

   "It was crazy!" Jamie interrupts him impatiently. "He hinted that we would be presented each as a certain type. Em would be 'the mysterious', Lucky 'the bad boy', Mickey 'the cutie', Tony 'the silent macho' and my humble persona 'the angel'. Can you imagine?"

   "Oh, my God, this is so hot," Emma screams excitedly and we all burst into laughter. 

   Thinking about it, though, it's quite on the point. The man is obviously very good in his profession.

   "Anyway," Tony continues the story, "the guy said that all the songs we had performed were great, but he still hadn't heard the ultimate first single that would shoot us forward. He asked us to give it one more try. He had only fifteen minutes left before leaving for the airport. We were all in total confusion what else to play."

   "Then Em had this crazy idea to carry out a completely new song that we hadn't even rehearsed more than one or two times," Lucky takes the floor. His eyes are shining with excitement. "The piece is a killer but still quite raw. We hit it and the man started gazing at us with his mouth agape. When we finished, he just shook Em's hand and said 'This song, boys, will make you world-famous.' Before we could respond anything, he grabbed his handbag and was gone."

   "And what was that song?" I ask in astonishment.

   "It's the song I wrote for you, love," Em answers, beaming at me.

   "What?" I squeak and my eyes go as wide as plates. "You didn't write a song about... about... my..." I bend down to him and whisper in his ear, "mouth... on your... you know...," shocked at the thought that he might have actually done it. My face is burning and is surely beat red.

   Oh Dear! I remember what he said on the phone very well. 

   This is a whole new level of embarrassment which I've never reached so far. My brain is frantically scrolling through possible lyrics, each more outrageous than the previous and I huff in desperation. Em is sooo capable of doing this.

   He stares at me, puzzled for a second, and upon realizing what I'm actually asking, throws his head back and erupts in loud, rapturous laughter. His whole body is shaking so violently that the chair beneath him starts to crack, threatening to break into pieces.

   The others are speechless, wondering what's going on.

   A bunch of waiters enter the chamber, pushing two serving trolleys, piled with food at this particular moment. They start distributing it on the table. Em is making tremendous efforts to stop laughing and finally calms down, just when they are finished and leave, discreetly glancing with curiosity over their shoulders.