Amazingly, Helen did not bother James at all for the rest of the weekend. He expected her to at least show up on his doorstep and talk things through with him, but she did no such thing. He even went to her supermarket looking for her, but did not find her there. Her mother was in her stead and her father was at a nearby cafe with his friends. Since he had left Dwights retirement party early and in a hurry, he had the opportunity to thank them both that he did not let go to waste.

On Monday morning, he had the grim task of returning to New York City. His heart sank at the thought that he would have to stay there for at least a week, but he had no choice. If he wanted to write some quality lyrics for Michelle’s new CD, he had to hear more stories from her past. The one he had at his disposal just not enough.

Thankfully, it seemed she did want to improve her image; she did not look at all like the last time they met. Michelle wore a red sweat suit, not one of her signature tiny outfits in which she had met with him on the day of their first meeting. Relief flashed in his eyes; at last, she seemed to be taking this seriously. Impressing him even further, she asked him to play the piano, eager to demonstrate her singing skills.

“Alright,” James cracked his knuckles. “I suggest you do something easy, for starters.”

“Au contraire mon ami,” Michelle said, a smug smile on her face as she positioned herself behind the microphone. “How about I do some Adele?”

“Adele?!” James gave a snort of derision. “Are you sure you can pull any of her songs off?”

“Watch me.” She assumed a stiff tone. “Play ‘Hello’, Mr. Farrell”

“You got it.” He couldn’t help but smile to himself. This particular song was considered difficult; even top performers could not reach all the octave ranges; plus, more importantly, few to none of them could match Adele’s feeling. As James would soon discover though, Michelle had every reason to be confident. Her voice was full of emotion, presence and conviction. As a matter of fact, he was so stunned by her performance that he kept stealing glances at her, just to catch a glimpse of the passion, written all over her face. The melodic sound of the powerful ballad, mixed with Michelle’s deep, raspy voice echoed back off the walls of the massive mansion, sending his heart in a flurry of wild beats…

Hello, it's me I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet To go over everything They say that time's supposed to heal ya But I ain't done much healing Hello, can you hear me? I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be When we were younger and free I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet There's such a difference between us And a million miles Hello from the other side I must have called a thousand times To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done But when I call you never seem to be home Hello from the outside At least I can say that I've tried To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart But it don't matter. It clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore Hello, how are you? It's so typical of me to talk about myself. I'm sorry I hope that you're well Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened? And it's no secret that the both of us Are running out of time So hello from the other side I must have called a thousand times To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done But when I call you never seem to be home Hello from the outside At least I can say that I've tried To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart But it don't matter. It clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore Anymore Hello from the other side I must have called a thousand times To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done But when I call you never seem to be home Hello from the outside At least I can say that I've tried To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart But it don't matter. It clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore

James’ long, slender fingers flew over the keys one last time, before he looked up at her. At a total loss for words, he preferred to take his hands off the piano and applaud, nodding appraisingly.

“Thank you.” Michelle said, a polite smile on her face, as she bowed down.

“Great job,” he cheered, his eyes glinting with excitement. “I never thought you could do this. I’m glad you proved me wrong.”

“I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’, but yeah, I told you so.” She teased, pointing at him. “God, that song’s so powerful. It kind of reminds me of…” She paused, “him, if you know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” James’ voice was bass-deep, with a hint of change behind it. “Alright, I have to ask. Couldn’t you have started your career by singing this kind of stuff? I mean, twerking, ‘smack my ass and pull my hair’? What the hell were you thinking?”

“The twerking bull was my agent’s idea.” Michelle explained with a hint of sadness in her voice. “When we first met, he looked me up and down and said: ‘Smoking! We have to take advantage of that body of yours!’ Did you expect me to sing anything meaningful while shaking my ass? I sure as hell didn’t.”

“Good point.” James commented. “Now, got any other stories you want to share with me or should I just keep playing?”

“I’d love it if you played some more.” She confessed, with a cunning smile on her face. “But there’s also a lot I need to get off my chest. About three years ago, I was at the movies with my two best friends, Alison and Tara. The movie ended at 10pm; I didn’t want to go home so early. I suggested we go to a dance club. They said ‘sure’. We went to this place in Soho. It was really great. We danced for hours. The bartender was really cute. He kept buying us drinks. We left in his car, but he was drunker than we were. We crashed into a fire hydrant. Tara had a concussion; I broke my left arm, but Alison…” Michelle sucked in a deep breath. “Alison’s body was ejected through the windshield. She slipped into a coma. We almost lost her.”

“Almost?” James squinted at her.

“Yeah, she woke up a week later.” Michelle replied. “That girl’s a fighter.”

“Female friendship then,” he said his tone friendly as he opened his notebook.

“Can I ask something for a change?” She teased, staring down at his hand.

“Go ahead.”

“Just how the hell do you do that?” Her question put a broad grin on his face. “I mean, writing about your own life is one thing. Many people do that, but writing about other people’s experiences? That’s got to be hard.”

“It’s a little bit trickier, sure.” He agreed, as her small hand came into view.

“May I?” She politely requested. James did not think twice. So far, she had been a perfect professional.

“Sure.” He uttered, handing her over his notebook. Michelle flipped through the pages, until she found the last poem he had written: The one about Olivia. In a matter of seconds, she opened her eyes wide. She read it over and over, casting rapt glances at him.

“I would kill to sing this,” she declared in her very emphatic voice as she tossed the notebook across the piano top. “It needs a chorus, but it’s just amazing.”

“Thanks for the kind words.” James’ voice dropped down an octave. “I’m not sure you should sing it, though.”

“Why?” Michelle shrugged.

“First of all, it’s about me.” He pointed to himself. “Second, her name is in the chorus I’ve been thinking about. A woman singing for a woman: it would be weird?”

“Not if we do a duet.” She raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile on her face as she leaned over him.

“I’m not singing in public.” James spoke in a commanding tone. “I’ve never done that before and frankly? I think it’s a terrible idea.”

“What does the chorus say?” Michelle posed a question, disregarding his refusal.

“Olivia, my heart’s on fire, Olivia calls out my name, Olivia, my burning desire, Olivia, my dying flame.” Silence lingered in the air. She squeezed her lips, but, it didn’t take long for Michelle to express her admiration. She put her hands together, as James fixed his gaze on the piano keys.

“Wonderful.” She said with a grin. “Bear with me, will you? You sing her name, I sing the rest. How does that sound? And if we perform live, you’ll just sit at the piano, wear a hat and that’s it.”

“No cameras?” He looked up at her, intrigued by her proposal.

“Not on you, if that’s what you want.” Michelle sighed. “We’ll put the piano back stage, as far away from photographers as we can: deal?”

“I’ll think about it.” James muttered, as his gaze shot up to meet hers. “What about the music?”

“I got something in mind.” She winked at him. “It’s either Bb major or F minor. I’m debating. But, you must say ‘yes’, James. I can’t write music without knowing if you’ll sing it with me or not.”

“We can rehearse it. We’ll do both versions; we’ll just choose the one that sounds best.” A huge grin lit her face, upon hearing his suggestion. In fact, Michelle was so thrilled that she leaned over him further and put her arms around his upper back.

“Yes!” She cheered. “Thank you so much! This is going to be incredible!”

“Hold your horses.” He resumed his bossy tone, pushing her back. “We have a lot of work to do. I suggest you get to it.”