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“Excuse me?”
“Ramen noodles. The instant, packaged kind.”
She makes a face. “Maddison, I don’t understand the point of this line of questioning. Where are you going with this?”
“I just—please—I just want to know. Do you like ramen?”
“I’ve never eaten instant ramen. It’s never appealed to me.”
“Okay, one more question for you.”
“I don’t see why I should answer you. You areweird, Maddison. And definitely not as good of a matchmaker as I hoped. You did get me out to coffee with Nick, but then the rest of your actions have been highly suspect, in my humble opinion.” She taps the folder. “Thankfully, we’re done working together. I believe I’ve taken care of your copyright issue. I spoke with Sylvester about the evidence in your favor, and he seemed appropriately fearful. It always changes the dynamic between two people in a battle of any sort, to have a lawyer in the mix. I have detailed notes on my conversation with him here, along with all the paperwork I’ve filed on your behalf.”
I want to know more. I want to know everything Sylvester said.
But more than that, I want to know this:
“If you had a choice between, say, an original song and a cover song, which would you choose?”
“Originals are always better.”
“Always? Are you sure?”
She pushes the folder at me. “Take a look.”
“I will… but isn’t there likeonesong you can think of where the cover is better? Isn’t it satisfying, in some strange way, to hear song lyrics put to new music, maybe even of a different genre?”
“No. And I refuse to sit through these nonsensical questions anymore.” She rubs her eye, then pulls out a little tube of drops from her bag.
No…
No!
“Do you wear?—”
“Contacts, yes,” she snaps. “Since you seem to want to know as many useless facts about me as you possibly can. I made the switch when I was thirteen.”
My stomach now has a sinking feeling in it, that I’m doing my best to chalk up to nerves. It’s nerve-wracking, to try to judge whether another person is right for a friend you care deeply about.
She doesn’t seem to be on the same page as Nick about a lot of stuff.
But these are minor things.
Nonsense, like she just said.
On the big, important things, she’s on the same page as Nick.
That must mean that they could have a future together.
A happy future.
That’s what I want for Nick. I want him to be happy.
I lean forward and grab the folder from the middle of the table.
“It’s all there,” she snaps. “All the work I’ve done for you, Maddison. I filed the proper forms for you with the State of California. You should have done it earlier, by the way, but it’s better late than never. As I mentioned, I contacted Sylvester. On Thursday afternoon I informed him that should he again attempt to sell your material as his own, he’ll be violating a clear, documented copyright and will not get away with it. That email you sent to your critique partner quite early on was very helpful. As I said, he seemed sufficiently fearful. Also, rather enraged. You may hear from him.”
“Oh, I have, believe me.”
