Painted Lady {h.s}

wedding march

★ HARRY ★

October 2nd
1997

"So, what are you saying?" My mind is reeling.

We all sit on the couch in the loft's living room. It's weird not referring to it as my own living room anymore. I got a call from Zayn telling Lorelai and I to rush over. We were in the middle of unpacking, but this sounded urgent so we dropped everything. When we got here, nothing was on fire, no one was dead, so we were confused. But then we saw Max on the couch, a tense look on his face. We all immediately sat down and Max explained to us how he quit his position at FM Records, but that wasn't all.

"I want to produce your guys' second album. Independently, no contracts, nothing. Just some friends in my makeshift home studio creating art."

"You're being serious?" Zayn asks, holding off on getting excited prematurely.

"Yeah, deadly." Max nods quickly. "When you guys left FM, Bobby made my life a living hell. I got so accustomed to making raging music with you guys and I guess he could tell I was a little pissed off with the way he handled things with the band, so he gave me a new client. A teeny-bopper, pop princess, Madonna wannabe. I wanted to rip my ears off whenever I had to be in the studio with her, and that's not just because her music was trash. Luckily she was just in for an EP, so I was able to finish it and get rid of her quickly. But after that, Bobby just didn't give me any more clients. So, I quit. I marched into his office, told him off, and walked out."

"And you think we can still sell records without a label?" I speak up this time, hesitant about taking his offer.

"You guys were on your way up to total stardom before life whooped you in the ass. If we band together and make a hit record, coupled with your guy's stories of mistreatment from FM, your album will be flying off the shelves. Doesn't matter if you have a big name backing you up or not. People loved you then, and they'll love you even more when you're angry."

"He's right," Lorelia speaks from beside me, shocking me with her instant trust in Max. "People weren't buying your album because you were signed to FM. They were buying it because it was good music."

"So you think we should do it?" I ask Lorelai, looking to her for some guidance.

"I do," She breathes. "But don't go off what I say, do what feels right to you guys."

I take a moment to think about what she said, really think about it. This offer might come off as such an easy decision to make, a simple yes or no. But that's not the case. If we say yes to Max, we could potentially just be wasting our time and energy into an album that will go nowhere. When we could be out searching for a new label to sign us, one that won't screw us when life becomes too much. But if we say yes, we could make a great album with someone we all consider a friend. For all we know, he could be right, and the album would do great. We could be back on the road in no time, playing sold out shows for people who like us for us. It could be such a risk.

I look around the room to gauge everyone else's reaction, all of their faces telling me exactly what I need to hear.

It's a risk we're willing to take.

"We're in."

★ LORELAI ★

October 10th
1997

"Harry? Did you set the table yet?" I call out, walking into our new kitchen.

"Not yet, I'm still cooking." He mutters as I walk into the room, seeing his back as he fiddles with something on the counter.