Chapter One
When Neil woke up to the California sun shining directly in his eyes, he wondered for a moment why he’d even bothered moving to LA. It was something he pondered occasionally, usually when the weather got above thirty-five degrees, the concrete shimmering in the heat, or when he had to take an Uber around the city and was stuck on the same street for over twenty minutes. They were small complaints though, in the grand scheme of things. It was certainly better than anywhere Neil had lived before, not that there was anywhere else that he didn’t have deep-rooted trauma tied to.
But the sunlight here was both a gift and a curse. After years spent in London’s familiar gloom, sometimes he found it to be glaring and more irritating than anything else. Sometimes, though, Neil would wake up and pad, feet bare, over to the giant window in the living room of his apartment to collapse on the sun-warmed hardwood floor with his morning cup of tea to just sit, for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure where he stood on his relationship with the city most days, but he didn’t let himself think about it too long. If he lingered on the thought he might end up getting philosophical, and that was a particularly quick road to Hell for him.
Neil sat up quickly today, turning away from the light and shuffling towards his closet. He’d never really understood people who struggled to get out of bed. He’d always been able to just get up and go, getting dressed, eating breakfast, and making it out the door all in under twenty minutes most days. His insomnia struck in the early hours of the morning too, so he was often up long before his alarm went off anyways.
Today was no different, and he walked towards his too big closet to choose an outfit. He didn’t understand the preoccupation of Californian realtors with closet space, but he supposed most people buying apartments in LA would actually give a shit about stuff like that. His had been mostly empty for months after he moved in, until Jeremy became wise about the situation and sicced Laila on Neil to “fix” his wardrobe situation. Now Neil’s closet was full of basic slacks, some of the more adventurous ones with stripes, as well as high quality, basic tops and a few blazers. Laila had explained to him that pretty much everything in Neil’s wardrobe went together, since it was almost exclusively coordinating colors and clean lines. She’d told Neil that he would have to try really hard to get picking out clothes wrong, but if he ever doubted that something went together, he should text a photo of it to Cat, who was consistently on her phone, before going out.
He pulled out a pair of navy slacks, tucked in a white t-shirt, and pulled on the surprisingly comfortable grey Oxfords in the bottom of his closet. Jeremy had complimented him on the choice before so he knew it was a safe bet. His friends had insisted on buying him new outfits once they’d seen what Laila had done, so he also had a whole separate section of his rack set aside for matching sets. Cat had begrudgingly accepted that Laila had put together a good basic set of clothes, but insisted that Neil have outfits for different occasions, like clubbing, fancy parties, nights on the town, and casual hangouts. Neil didn’t have the heart to tell her she had vastly overestimated his social life. She’d picked up pretty quickly that all these clothes were a fairly intimidating concept to Neil, so she, along with Jeremy and Laila, had stuck to gifting him full outfits that completely went together so that he didn’t have to worry about mixing and matching different pieces. If they got bored of those, then one of them would start rearranging certain items to make new sets, and so on and so forth so that they were essentially using him to play dress up before group outings. When Neil had pointed this out, Jeremy had just shrugged, not looking at all embarrassed, and told Neil that he had a very specific style, and that it was nice to use someone else to try out new looks.
In the long run, Neil appreciated it. It was one less thing for him to worry about in the morning, and he’d take what he could get in that department. On his way out the door, he grabbed an apple and filled a travel mug with English Breakfast to take to work with him, since he knew he’d end up eating in his car anyways.
Cat had pointed out to him on multiple occasions that since he was essentially his own boss, there was no need for him to come into work so early, but he really didn’t have anything else to do and was likely up anyways, so this fact did little to stop him. Cat was well known for rolling up late to work, bleary-eyed and occasionally hungover, so she thought he was absolutely mad. She could get away with it though, given that she owned the floor Neil rented his studio out of, and her job at the front desk was really more of a formality than anything else. Neil also had a feeling that she just wanted something to do all day, not to mention that, as she put it, her renters were “her family, except Jonathan in 3E, who’s a total bastard who was late on his payment four times last year without even an apology.” Neil was fairly sure that was why she loved him and Jeremy so much. In fact, he was certain, since she’d told him a few months into their friendship that she kept approaching him since he’d never been late for rent once and she wanted to keep on his good side.
When Neil had first moved to LA, he’d been idealistic. He was under no delusions about his talent, so he’d thought he’d make it big, or if not, just make it, soon after his arrival. He’d been somewhat right. Within the first two months he’d been offered a contract with the Moriyama Music Group. But after spending a few days pouring over his ironclad contract agreement, he turned them down. There were clauses he just wasn’t comfortable with, things about what he could or couldn’t say or do, as well as the fact that they kept the rights to all music he made with them even if he terminated his contract and that he could never regain those rights no matter what. That was a clause that was carefully hidden in the document, buried under pages of mundanities and so difficult to find that it couldn’t have been put there for any other reason than to keep it from potential contract signers.
A year later the news broke about Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama, the company’s biggest hit duo, breaking up. The news said it was due to an injury sustained by Kevin, with no explanation given for the accident’s nature, something Neil found instantly suspicious. Months later, when Kevin started making it big with his new record label, Foxhole Records, a bigger story made the headlines: Riko Moriyama had committed suicide following what the news called a “blacklisting” of him at his label. The whole situation stunk to Neil, but when he brought it up at work his friends all told him he was being ridiculous. It was probably the mobster’s son in him, but it sounded fishy. Kevin and Riko had been a famous, well-established duo, known for main singer Riko and backup vocalist/guitarist Kevin. There had been a time when interviews and speculation had reached a fever pitch suggesting that between the two, Kevin was really the more talented and Riko was just a diva who insisted on taking the spotlight. Kevin’s injury happened less than a month after. It was too much of a coincidence for Neil, and for some members of the press as well, but Kevin never confirmed nor denied any allegations of abuse from Riko and the Moriyama Group, so it didn’t really go anywhere. The whole incident served, if nothing else, to make Neil extremely sure of his correct choice in not signing with them.
After turning down that contract, he’d expected to be offered something from other labels. The biggest name in music wanted him; someone else had to as well. Apparently, he underestimated the influence the Moriyamas had, since no other company reached out or was willing to work with him after he turned down that first contract. Rather than give up entirely, Neil came up with a different solution. Ghost-writing. He’d always wanted to write and perform his own music; if no one was willing to let him do that, then he’d just write for others. It was better than nothing, and no one would look twice at him using an alias, something that was extremely useful for Neil’s situation. They couldn’t blacklist him if he was using a different name.
It was a slow start. Neil knew he was talented, but getting started without any representation was difficult no matter what. He started renting a studio to work out of from a woman named Cat Alvarez, who, after he paid his first month’s rent, led him to what would become his second home for the foreseeable future, room 3B. Down the hall, she told him, was famous producer Jeremy Knox, best known for his collaborations with former Moriyama owned DJ Jean Moreau.
After a while though, Neil started to get some steady clients. At first it was just beginning bands or solo artists trying to make a name for themselves, but after some time, and a lot of word of mouth, Neil’s clients started getting increasingly more famous. Within six months he had written for some of the most famous names in the music industry, all under his pseudonym.
When he came up the elevator to the third floor that morning, Cat was leaning over her desk to see who it was coming out of the nearby elevator bank, and practically jumped out of her rolling chair at the sight of him.
“Neil! Thank god you’re here, I have something awesome to tell you.”
Neil raised his eyebrows. What was awesome to Cat was rarely what he would consider awesome.
She kept going despite his unenthused silence. “We’re throwing a fundraiser this weekend for some studio upgrades on our floor. Some of the folks were going to perform and we were going to charge for admission…” She trailed off. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to perform, could I?” She turned her best puppy dog eyes towards him.
Neil sighed. “Cat, you know I don’t really do performances.”
“Not even for your best friend?”
“I thought Laila was your best friend.”
“She’s my girlfriend, it’s not the same.”
“What about Jeremy?”
“I can have more than one best friend Neil! Plus, he’s a producer not a performer. Stop dodging the question. Will you or won’t you?”
“I can’t Cat, I’m sorry.” He still had some paranoia to shake about stepping into the spotlight. Not that anyone here would recognize him anyways, but his anxiety was difficult to completely shut down. God knows why he ever thought he could be a real star.
She huffed defeatedly. “Alright. But will you at least come? For a little while?”
“Fine, yes, I’ll come.” Neil always had trouble saying no to her face, especially when she was so excited. Plus the event would probably benefit him in the long run anyways, not that he needed that bonus to help out a friend.
She perked up immediately. “Awesome! It’s this Friday from six to ten.”
Neil narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t actually expecting me to agree to perform, were you? You were just doing that thing where you ask me for something impossibly big and then tone it down to something only marginally big so that I agree to it, weren’t you?”
Cat’s grin grew wider. “A magician never reveals her secrets.”
“Whatever,” he called over his shoulder, “I’ll wear something Jeremy chose then.”
“Traitor!” she yelled after him fondly. “See you there babe!”
Neil still wasn’t entirely used to having friends. Cat had basically just picked him up in the studio lobby and kept him, and everyone else he made friends with through her. Her girlfriend Laila was Neil’s closest friend, Cat’s friend from college Thea had been a client of Neil’s he’d only gotten through that particular style of nepotism, and Jeremy and Jean had only become a part of his life due to less than subtle nudges from Cat for him to join them all for drinks after work. She was the kind of friend that texted him for every get together, even knowing he was an introvert and wouldn’t come to most of them. She never asked for an apology, took way too many pictures with him when he finally did go out, and never made him feel left out even when they went places and did things without him. She’d turned his life in LA into a real life, the kind he’d never had before, and Neil didn’t know where he’d be without her, or Laila for that matter.
It hadn’t always been this good though. The first time he’d skipped an event Cat invited him out to, she’d come to confront him the next day at work, eyebrows scrunched up in disappointment.
“Neil,” she’d demanded, “if you don’t actually like me, you have to tell me, like now.”
“I, uh,” Neil had responded, flabbergasted, “I think you’re great Cat, but I’m not interested in you like that…”
She’d just rolled her eyes. “Not like that. I’m a giant lesbian, dumbass. I just meant, if you don’t want to be friends with me, let me know, and I’ll quit bothering you to do stuff with me. It’s totally fine, we can keep this all professional if you want.”
Neil swallowed. “No, it’s not that. I just,” he paused, “I’m not used to this. I never had friends I actually wanted to spend time with. Or who wanted to spend time with me. So I don’t know how to approach it.”
When he finally looked her in the eyes, Neil saw Cat had buried her forehead in her palm.
“What’s wrong? Oh god, did I say something wrong again, I’m so sorry I really am fucking bad at this, I told you…” Neil stuttered.
Cat let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “God no, kid. This is just the second fucking time I’ve done this.”
“Done what?”
“Confused being an introvert with someone hating me! Laila did basically the same thing before we started dating. Believe me, it took me some guess and checking to finally figure out the inner workings of dating an introvert, believe me. But I thought I was doing better. I’m just someone who needs things spelled out for me sometimes, you know? Just, when you didn’t come without saying anything, I thought it was because you didn’t care, or you didn’t like me or something.”
“No! God, no. I just stared at my phone so long trying to type a good excuse that I just gave up.”
“No excuses! From here on out, if you don’t want to come, just tell me ‘not tonight’ and I’ll let it go. But seriously,” she had dropped her voice, getting slightly closer, “if you ever need company or socialization but don’t want to go out, feel free to say that too, and I’ll just drag everyone over to yours. Okay? Good."
Cat had nodded with a smile, planting a giant, exaggerated kiss on his forehead. “Okay bud. Get to work and make some money to pay me with! I’ll text you later, bye!”
From then on, she’d pretty much been the best, most understanding person Neil had ever met. And he went out of his way to send responses to her messages, knowing that he’d get no judgment for whatever he texted back
So he didn’t usually find himself turning her down for anything that she really wanted, making the fundraiser Friday night not that big of a deal. He still felt this kind of debt for everything she’d done for him. And he knew if it was an event she was organizing herself, Laila would be there and they could probably hide in the corner together for most of the night. Still, it was probably going to be a lot more socializing than he had anticipated for Friday.
Rubbing a hand across his forehead, he pushed away thoughts of the coming weekend and unlocked the door to his studio. He had songs to write.