Chapter 15: New Faces
1012 Words
The first thing Lena noticed about songwriting camp was that nobody seemed to be in a hurry.
That surprised her.
At Horizon Records, everything moved quickly. Meetings started on time. Sessions had schedules. Producers wanted results. People constantly checked clocks and phones.
Here, things felt different.
There were guitars leaning against walls, notebooks scattered across tables, half-finished cups of coffee everywhere, and people wandering between rooms carrying instruments.
Music seemed to happen naturally.
Lena liked it.
She arrived early on the second day and found Maya sitting on the floor outside one of the studios.
“Morning,” Maya said.
Lena smiled. “Morning.”
“You’re early.”
“So are you.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Same.”
Maya laughed.
“Too many ideas?”
“Too many thoughts.”
“That sounds like the same thing.”
“Not always.”
They smiled at each other.
Lena sat beside her.
For the first time since arriving in the city, she had someone around her who wasn’t connected to the record label.
Someone who didn’t know her schedule.
Someone who wasn’t evaluating her.
Maya simply treated her like another girl who liked music.
It was refreshing.
“So,” Maya said, “how are you handling everything?”
Lena knew immediately what she meant.
“The music?”
“The whole thing.”
Lena looked down.
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
Maya nodded.
“Same.”
“You’re already signed?”
“Not officially. I’m working with an independent producer.”
Lena smiled.
“That’s still amazing.”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
Maya shrugged.
“Sometimes it feels like everyone wants you to become something before you’ve figured out who you are.”
Lena stared at her.
That sentence sounded painfully familiar.
“Exactly.”
They sat quietly for a moment.
Then Maya smiled.
“Well, at least we’re confused together.”
Lena laughed.
“Deal.”
⸻
Their songwriting group met again at ten.
Eli had brought a new melody.
Lena brought lyrics.
Maya brought a guitar progression.
The pieces didn’t seem like they belonged together at first.
Then something clicked.
The room filled with sound.
Lena listened carefully, waiting for the moment when everything aligned.
When it finally did, she felt that familiar spark.
That feeling she’d experienced in the studio.
The feeling that told her:
This is it.
They worked for hours.
By lunch, the song had a chorus.
By afternoon, they had most of a verse.
By evening, they had something that actually sounded like a song.
Lena couldn’t stop smiling.
“You know what?” Maya said.
“What?”
“We’re good.”
Lena laughed.
“We might be.”
“No. We are.”
Lena smiled.
It was strange hearing someone say that without expectation attached.
At Horizon, praise always carried a sense of evaluation.
Here, it felt like friendship.
⸻
That night, Lena called Noah.
“You wouldn’t believe today.”
“Try me.”
She told him everything.
The song.
Maya.
Eli.
The songwriting session.
Noah listened patiently.
When she finished, he said, “Sounds like you had fun.”
“I did.”
“Good.”
Lena smiled.
“I’m starting to feel like I belong here.”
“That was fast.”
“I know.”
“See? Told you.”
“You really enjoy being right.”
“Extremely.”
She laughed.
Then he asked:
“Did you write anything about me?”
Lena froze.
“Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Maybe.”
He laughed.
“You’re impossible.”
“You started it.”
“Fair.”
The conversation continued for another twenty minutes.
But after they hung up, Lena couldn’t stop thinking about his question.
Had he been joking?
Probably.
But something about it stayed with her.
⸻
The next morning, Vanessa called.
“Lena, I need you at Horizon this afternoon.”
“Why?”
“We have a meeting.”
“What kind?”
“You’ll find out.”
Lena immediately became suspicious.
“That’s never a comforting answer.”
Vanessa laughed.
“You’ll survive.”
When Lena arrived, she was led into a conference room.
Richard was there.
So was Marcus.
And three other people she’d never met.
One was a marketing executive.
Another was a producer.
The third was a woman named Claire, who worked in artist development.
Richard smiled.
“We’ve been discussing your next steps.”
Lena sat down.
“Okay.”
“We’re interested in recording a small collection of songs.”
Lena’s heart jumped.
“Like an EP?”
“Exactly.”
She tried not to react too dramatically.
But she failed.
“Really?”
Richard smiled.
“Really.”
He slid a folder across the table.
Inside was a preliminary production plan.
Songwriting sessions.
Recording dates.
Photography.
Brand development.
Potential release strategies.
Lena stared at the pages.
Her dream was becoming a schedule.
That was both thrilling and terrifying.
“We want your input,” Claire said.
“My input?”
“Yes. Your music should reflect you.”
Lena nodded.
She felt strangely proud.
They weren’t simply telling her what to do.
They were asking.
“What happens next?” she asked.
Claire smiled.
“Now we figure out who Lena Cruz is as an artist.”
⸻
That evening, Lena sat on the hotel balcony with her notebook.
She wrote three words across a blank page.
Who am I?
She stared at them.
Then began writing.
Singer.
Songwriter.
Friend.
Daughter.
Dreamer.
She paused.
Then added:
Someone who doesn’t want to forget where she came from.
Her phone buzzed.
Noah.
You okay?
Lena smiled.
Yeah. Just thinking.
Dangerous.
She laughed.
Then sent him a picture of the page.
A few seconds later:
You’re still you.
Lena looked at the words.
She smiled.
Maybe that was the answer.
She didn’t have to figure everything out tonight.
She just had to keep moving.
One song at a time.
One day at a time.
And one chapter at a time.
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