Like a Monster in a Costume

Franca and Kim crossed the underground parking garage and got into the elevator. No one joined them on their way up, and soon the doors opened on the fourth floor. Kim was glad to quickly leave the cramped space with its acoustic and visual signals.

The foyer on that floor was rather inconspicuous. A young woman, only a few years older than Kim, came straight up to them.

“Hi, you must be Kimberly and Franca, welcome to Square Studios, I’m River, nice to having you, how are you doing?”

“Fantastic. Are the others already here?” Franca asked bluntly, while Kim just nodded in River’s direction.

“Yes, the label's representatives are already here. Please follow me and I’ll show you right in.”

Kim liked the studio. Its floor and wall coverings screamed 70ies. The wallpapers showed a retro, geometric pattern with repeating interlocking semi-circles and ovals on a black background. The layered shapes were a stark contrast to the dark with their teal, blue, lavender, and white tones.

They also passed by the office area, where the mic locker, a showpiece of the studio, stood out in particular. The flooring was kept in shades of gray. A wide dark surface with lighter zigzag lines crisscrossing it repeatedly.

They reached the meeting room, River swiped her magstripe card past the reading head to the right of the door and they entered.

Quinn stood with his back to the newcomers at the large panoramic window and looked down at the city. He wore a loose-fitting gray suit, and a black turtleneck sweater peeked out from his collar.

“Kim, Franca, it's great to have you here.” Quinn said as he turned toward them.

The fake smile he put up did not reach his dark eyes, which radiated cold calculation. It was a grimace that revealed the wrinkly signs of Quinn's waning 50s.

A woman Kim didn't know was sitting at the table. She looked a little younger than Quinn and unlike his blond, almost white, permed hair, a reddish-brown mane flowed down her shoulders. She was clad in dark gray business attire that matched the floor.

The last one in the group was Palmer, the studio manager. A huge, chubby man with short ginger hair and a wild beard. He was easygoing, and Kim liked him. His rough features always radiated a feeling of welcome and he always donned rather casual outfits. Today just some jeans and a colorful plaid shirt.

They greeted each other. Palmer was as friendly as ever.

“Say hi to Rebecca, she will assist us today with some minor things. Please take a seat. We’ll have a few things to discuss.”

While everyone else sat around the table, Quinn settled down on a chair some distance away from the rest. Clearly visible to all, he sat with his legs spread wide and his hands folded under his chin in a thoughtful pose.

Quinn's pseudo-meaningful behavior and anticipation of what was to come fueled Kim’s inner turmoil. But Franca obviously had no desire to play along with Quinn's games.

“What's going on, Quinn? Kimberly's schedule is full enough, so cut to the chase.”

“Take it easy, Fran. This won't take long.”

He nodded toward Rebecca and she began placing some photos on the table. Photos of Kim as she entered the Plumeria Walk. Photos of Kim and Robert, showing her letting him try her food and them leaving the restaurant together.

Quinn looked at Kimberly with irritation and a questioning look.

“Do you see how that isn’t good for your image?”

“Is that all? She was out with classmates and one of them drove her home. And why the fuck do you’ve these photos? This is completely beyond any normal label work.” Franca interjected.

“Some attention-seeking moron wanted to sell them to a magazine. Luckily, I know the editor in charge, and he gave them to me. But of course, you don't get something like that for free.”

“And what else would have happened? Would that have been the headline of the outgoing millennium? Up-and-coming singer goes out to dinner with friends! No alcohol, no nudity, no bathroom quickie. Who cares?”

“Her fans would care, Fran. Kim may not embody the innocent pop starlet, but she still has an image to maintain. Her audience is young and diverse, including both boys and girls. For most girls, that may be fine, and they may find a potential romance involving their idol exciting. But for the boys Kim is the approachable type, the alternative girl with whom they could imagine a potential romance in their loser brains. But when she feeds some pretty boy with her fork in an exclusive restaurant, that dream shatters. Once she has established her position in two or three years, her audience will be more mature if we market her correctly. Then it won't be a problem, but at the moment Kim shouldn't put herself in situations like that. It hurts us all.”

Quinn's monologue left Kim stunned. She felt like a product that had been placed on the wrong shelf in a supermarket.

“Quinn, we discussed this whole image thing a dozen times. Kim is an indie artist, and we've already left the 80s behind us, with the 90s soon to follow. Ever since Madonna, at the latest, that kind of thing doesn't matter to anyone in the US.”

Palmer rose from his chair and appeared immensely displeased.

“I can only agree with Franca here, Quinn. Kim’s is an indie artist, not some early 90s pop star, and we as a studio don't really have anything to do with this marketing stuff anyway. I really didn't need to be here, and you're creating an unnecessarily unpleasant situation for all of us.”

“You two can't be serious! Release is very few months off. This could have a significant impact on sales figures.”

“None of my business either. You pay me to use the studio, and that's it. I'm out of here. Sorry, Kim, see you on Wednesday for the next session.”

Palmer left the room, shaking his head in disbelief, leaving a stunned Quinn behind. Rebecca stepped in for her older colleague and, unlike him, addressed Kim directly.

“That came across as a bit accusatory, didn’t it? We don't want to control your everyday life, Kim. We just hope you understand that major disruptions could cause major problems for the label and your contract.”

“I don't know what the label means by “major disruptions,” but going out to eat with friends and getting a ride home from a classmate isn't one, is it?” Kim shot back.

“Hey, we are all on the same page here. Just be aware that thousands of eyes are on you, even when you're going out to eat with friends, and we try to protect you.”

“You mean you try to protect my image, my sales figures, right?”

Quinn had regained his composure and was about to launch into his next monologue, but Franca cut him off.

“I think everyone has made their point clear. I would just like to add one more thing. I expect that no further meeting will involve any surprises or other shock-and-awe tactics to make a point. Understood, Quinn? Otherwise, I'll have a chat with Alex. Capisce?”

“Hey, I just want the best for Kim and...”

“Then that's settled. You two have a nice day. Ciao!”

Franca motioned for Kim to follow her and they left the meeting room. Kim’s manager set a brisk pace on the silent walk to the elevator. Only when the door closed behind them did part of the tension visibly leave her.

“I don't understand how Alex chose that clown to be responsible for your contract. Quinn may have achieved the best figures for the label a decade ago, but he knows as much about actual music artists as a pigeon knows about hydromechanics. Sorry, Kim.”

“At least I won't have to get upset myself if you take this burden off my shoulders too.”

Franca laughed. They had reached the garage again and left the elevator.

“How about it, shall I treat you to a coffee? Then I can show you the best place for a potential date with that boy.”

“Are you trying to tease me? Not working and sadly I don’t have the time. I want to finish another song and this whole ordeal already wasted enough time.”

“Sad but true. Then it's back to school again.”