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I can’t meet her eyes. “I don’t hate it,” I whisper. That insinuation is what hurts the most. I can live with him forcing these extra dates on me, knowing I am indeed going to be exhausted. If Chuck tried even one of my dance routines, I know for a fact he’d keel over halfway through. But, I can’t accept any implication that I don’t love what I do, that I don’t enjoy giving the fans what they want and more.
“We know that,” Mom says, reaching out tentatively to rub my back. She hasn’t done it for so long it feels almost alien.
“So, why does he always throw that at me?” I ask, turning my body to face her. “He knows I live for this, that I’d never jeopardize the future of this family, my sisters…”
She finally looks at me and a ghost of a frown appears, despite the care her facialist and cosmetic surgeon put into her features. “Your father does not ‘throw’ things at you. He says things for a reason, to motivate you, to get you to see what the right thing to do is. You know it already, but he says things a certain way to get you to the right place quickly.” Her eyes wander away wistfully. “He’s a genius, really. I wish you would recognize that. He’s doing it for all of us, Aurelia. And he's right, you won’t always be flavor of the month, you know. We have to capitalize on your popularity while we can.” She sighs, somewhat irritably. “Especially now we’re asking your fans to accept the drastic changes to your image—”
“Drastic?” I stand up to face her. “The changes I’ve made have not been drastic. They’ve been subtle, Mom. And they are way more appropriate than me getting older and still wearing pigtails and singing about ‘boys’. I need to dress my age, I want to sing about issues that affect other people my age. If it offends anybody, surely it’s their problem, right?”
Her lips narrow. “The record company apparently doesn’t see it that way.”
I feel a hard resolve form in my belly. “Then letmetalk to the record company.”
Her face pales and suddenly the confidence her frown previously exhibited is gone. “Aurelia, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Why not? I’m officially an adult. I can have a conversation about my own career and livelihood with the record company execs without my manager being in the room.”
She clasps both my hands. “Don’t be silly. You don’t know the first thing about business. And you’ve just said yourself, you need time off. You don’t need to be using any time you have when you’re not performing or rehearsing to sit in boring board rooms discussing numbers. That’s why Chuck does it. To protect you from the stuff you don’t care about, and don’t need to care about. It’s all in hand.”
“What if I do care about it?” I challenge. Something inside me is turning a little sour. Why all of a sudden is she so animated about not wanting me to be privy to the business side of my business? I’m getting the horrible feeling something is being hidden from me, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. “Why can’t I defend my decision to evolve my image?”
“Aurelia, the record company is on board. They are just... nervous, that’s all. The smallest of changes can cause the biggest losses.”
“I don’t believe that. Female artists in particular are always having to change up their image. They have to, to stay relevant. It’s not fair but it’s the reality.”
“It’s different with child stars, Aurelia. But, you don’t have to worry. Your father has it all under control. You just need to focus on the performances, ok?”
I’m not listening. My thoughts have returned to the revelation Carla dropped on me during our publicity meeting. “And what’s this about me releasing a compilation album with no new material, Mom? I didn’t approve that, and I don’t approve of it. No one wants to buy a collection of only old material.”
Mom straightens and wipes an irritated hand across her oiled forehead. “I don’t get involved in these decisions Aurelia. But, if I remember correctly, your father said there will be some reworking on certain tracks. Nothing you’ll need to go into the studio for. He’s concerned that the residency will take you off the radar for a while and he wants to keep your music front of mind with your fans.”
I can’t argue with the rationale but it still bothers me that I had no say. “I just wish I’d been included in the discussions, that’s all,” I say, weakly. “It is my career, after all.”
“Yes.” Mom’s voice is clipped, as though she’s finally run out of patience. “But you can’t do it all on your own.”
I look away, so many thoughts flooding my head I can hardly see. One crystallizes more than any other. Something doesn’t feel right, but I’m too close to see what it is. I need distance. I need room to breathe. I need a plan.
It’s time.
