I’ll Wait For You

All the while, her emotions continued to churn in a frenzy in her stomach and blood, making her wonder what the tattooed man with the blue flowers on his arms held in store for her. His icy blue eyes met hers as she sat down, and he promptly leaned forward to shake her hand. “Hey, Elinor. Thanks for coming over. I’m Kostya Vasilev. What’s your full name?”

“Elinor Rosemary Turner.” Her teeth grated at the last surname. She no longer wanted to be known as a Turner, and had been intending to revert back to her original surname for all her documents. The time and effort made it a pain, however.

“My father was half Bulgarian, half Russian, if you’re wondering about the name, but I was born and raised in America. I’ve invited you over because there was something   I liked about you.”

“My pretty face?” Elinor said, grinning as she did so. Kostya copied the smile, icy eyes appraising her.

“That, too. You certainly do have fair features, though that’s not the main selling point. Neither is your voice, though it helps depict the emotion of your words perfectly. I happen to be looking for writing talent.”

Elinor forgot how to breathe for a second. She stared at Kostya in complete astonishment, unable to comprehend what he had just said.

Writing talent? He’s looking for writing talent? Who is he?

“I can see this might take you a short moment to process,” he said, amused by her reaction. “Take the time you need.”

When Elinor processed the words through fully, and all the implications that came with them, she shook her head in bafflement. “So, every time you’ve been sat in here, you’ve been hoping to come across someone who writes their own songs?”

“Certainly. And before you say that it’s easy enough for me to recruit elsewhere – this happened to be a specific request of the current music band I’m cooperating with. They wanted me to find someone in the cracks of society – someone who nobody else would even bat an eyelid over. It’s part of the image they want to deliver to their audience. Everyone came from nothing, and made something out of their lives.”

He leaned closer to Elinor, making her spine shiver as those eyes briefly trailed to her chest, then back up. “Perhaps, Elinor, we might make something of you yet, if you continue to write lyrics with high potential, like that one. What did you call it, anyway? You never gave it a title.”

Elinor flushed at the observation. That was true. She had dived straight into the song without giving forewarning on the title and subject matter. “It’s a working title, as I came up with the song within a week. I call it Still Dreams.”

He nodded at her choice in title, expression turning soft. Still hardly daring to believe someone had acknowledged her music, more than that, the words behind it, she sat there, quivering in happiness. Her friends on the other side kept giving covert glances, obviously intrigued to the conversation that might be rolling out between them. No doubt she would be squeezed for every last drop of information when she returned, as Tina and Karen made quite the good tag team.

She wondered what sort of band Kostya managed, whether he was part of a small local company, or something overseas, given his foreign name, even though he stated he had grown up in America. It didn’t take away the possibility he might have connections elsewhere.

All the thoughts rippled inside, stirring long lost feelings she believed had been killed from the years spent neglecting them. Hope, passion, wonder, all swirling together in gurgling completeness. Feelings she held as a child, lost as an adult, and didn’t quite understand what she had left behind, until someone showed them to her again.

Kostya Vasilev. I really like that name, actually. It rolls off the tongue, the surname soft, the first name solid and rounded.

“I can see, you know,” he said, his voice gentle, almost musical in quality, “that you’re pleased. Really pleased that I picked up on your words.”

In response, Elinor beamed, resting her arms on the table. Kostya called for George, one of the waiters on duty, to bring two light beers. When his arm moved, and the tendons and muscles flexed underneath, it made the flowers that were inked in shimmer, and her eyes traced the movement, brain now curious to know the meaning behind the pictures.

“I always liked writing more than singing. Honestly, I just learned to hit the right notes so I could complement my lyrics.”

“You like writing poetry, as well?”

“Yeah. I think they go hand in hand, though with lyrics, you can get away with a different kind of structure. Lyrics enjoy half rhymes more, repetition of chorus…” Elinor rattled on, before flushing in embarrassment, realizing how chatty she was being. Kostya didn’t seem to mind, and held rapt attention with her. Once, his leg bumped into hers underneath the table, and the shock of it made her skin shiver, before she pulled herself together, rooted her mind in reality. The area of her leg where he had touched still burned.

“Hmm.” He smiled wickedly at her then, and made sure his eyes were trained on hers before he said, “Well, you’ll obviously want some evidence that I’m legitimate. Here is my business card. Our music brand is known as Fusion Chord, and we’re always looking for more talent. I’m more in charge of a small subsidiary within the group.”

The beers arrived, and Elinor and Kostya thanked George, who bowed and retreated, leaving them to it.

Examining the card and hearing the name drop of Fusion Chord made Elinor’s eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Fusion Chord,” she said blandly. “One of the biggest music brand names. In the world. That one?”

“That one,” he agreed, grinning at her near apoplexy.

Holy. Fu*king. Sh*t. And he even told me his fu*king surname. What in actual fu*k is this? “You’re related to Nikolai Vasilev?”

“He’s my father,” Kostya confirmed. However, instead of the hint of pride Elinor expected to see following an announcement like that, Kostya’s handsome face furrowed over in murk. “And I am the seventh sibling of nine. Some might describe me as magic for that reason, but I can assure you, it creates some interesting family… dynamics.”

He fell silent a moment, before brightening. “Though that is not the point of tonight. You have the address. If you agree to the offer, you may sign the contract over at the studio listed on the card. The studio will be your workplace as seen fit. If you come on Sunday, you’ll also meet the band members who will be equally eager to meet you, and likely impart the vision they have. The lead singer has a habit of talking a lot, be warned.”

“Consider me warned,” Elinor said with a smile, picking up the beer and tasting it. It had a strange, cherry tinge to it. “So, a contract for me to be a… lyricist?”

“Should things work out for the best, yes.” He smiled, clinking his beer glass with hers. “Your ability to keep in tune might be able to help the band members when composing songs as well. Are you good at the guitar?”

“No. I know the basic chords, but that’s it. Same with the piano.”

Kostya absorbed all the information thrown his way, completely ignoring the band of five that were playing, mashing their way through popular rock songs. Apart from the occasional off note hit, they fared through their songs better than the trio of last week. The lead singer even remembered to hit good notes every now and then.

He leaned backwards, clearly expecting this to be the end of the matter, and gave her a curt wave. “Hopefully, I will see you on Sunday. If not, then I will look elsewhere. But I strongly advise you not to turn this down, unless you are satisfied with your current position in life.”