Now that Monty was back at university, I had the apartment to myself. That meant less scheduling conflicts—I was a light sleeper and could feel everything that Monty did when he was moving about—but that meant I was back to regulating my own time, too. I asked Tienne to be my accountability partner so it ensured I hadn't forgotten important appointment dates or events that existed outside my regular schedule.

Returning from a frustrating gig, I lost myself in the rhythm of preparing gỏi cuốn for dinner—boiling rice noodles, then wrapping it in rice paper with leftover romaine lettuce, mock meat and cucumber sticks. With a sweet Hoisin sauce dip, the resulting taste was fresh and hearty.

My parents had suggested using a grocery delivery service. At first I opposed it. The whole point with getting them on board was to prove I could do things on my own. I was young and able-bodied and didn't really need it, right? But after observing my workflow, where my long blocks of concentrated focus on certain tasks neglected other necessary housekeeping chores, I reluctantly agreed. With their support and my wider opportunities for gigs, I could afford skipping the sensory overload of shopping. The grocery service even had visual recipe cards to get me organized.

If only I had considered this option earlier, how much stress and headaches could I have avoided? The money wasn't going to last forever though. And while a couple of Phiona's connections have accepted me as one of their regulars--I'd stomped my feet at the news--my mind drifted back towards bigger goals. A bigger stage.

With a clean finger, I scrolled through my Instagram feed. I had to lend it to Hidden Stars' marketing team--they did a pretty good job of hiding the problems Phiona mentioned. By searching with unusual key words (another university trick!), I salvaged an article by Entertainment Under the Lens: A Critical Journal that could plausibly be connected to what she refused to tell me.

"'Branching Out Was Our Mistake' – A Case Study into the Limits of Inclusivity"

By J. Özdemir

Hidden Stars, an artist management company that upcoming musicians have credited for their success, experienced some dissent after pulling back its recent marketing campaign.

"Per community feedback, we aimed to include a more diverse set of talents in our musician roster," said a statement from Hidden Stars. "However, our muddled message didn't reach the audience we had in mind. We want to avoid selling promises we could not keep without compromising the quality of our services. We encourage musicians who don't quite fit what we're looking for to find other communities that are better suited for you.""

In recent years, Hidden Stars has been known for its unique marketing and collaboration with each one of its artists, launching them into the public consciousness and giving them big names. But there has been dissent from some musicians who claimed they had been rejected from the company based on their company's mission statement of defining talent.

"They want you to fit in a very small box," said one anonymous musician. "If you weren't willing to go along with what they liked, you were out. For all that Hidden Stars claims to be, you're not going to get the magical benefits other artists receive unless you're the top 1%."

I skimmed through the poorly integrated text blocks of quotes. It seemed like a legitimate, if not amateur article from a credible journal. There were no follow-up articles despite the author making it sound like a big deal. Other news outlets had glowing articles pertaining to Hidden Stars' accomplishments—namely, Charu Dubashi's rise to fame and how they broke barriers in the music industry without compromising who they were, what they wanted to do with their music.

J. Özdemir's profile was barren asides from an attached email. Might as well ask and send a message that would likely never be responded to. In the meantime, I shared the article with Nora for her thoughts.

NORA: It could be a legit reason, or not

NORA: If Hidden Stars has held a certain image for long enough, suddenly branching into a new target audience might be confusing. On the other hand, there's a way to make your mission statement succinct while having it encompass a wide audience

TAI: So you're saying that if they really wanted to, they could've done it?

NORA: I think so

NORA: Like you, right? You really want to do music and now you're doing it

The corner of my lips tugged.

TAI: It's not the way I imagined it to be

NORA: Are you chasing fame?

TAI: I want to be a great musician, that's all

NORA: Perhaps talk to other musicians yourself. I can only help so much

TAI: It's funny how music people are the hardest to make last friendships with. Everyone is touch and go

NORA: Byproduct of the industry?

TAI: Or I'm the problem

NORA: Or that you attract random people naturally because of who you are

NORA: Like us

TAI: You said you loved me for my music, I remember

NORA: No, I said it's because you're doing something you love

NORA: Being around you is like basking in the sun

Skeptically rereading her messages, I latched onto the part I knew to be true: I actually needed to get up and talk to people.

Shouldn't I focus on R4E though? Phiona recommended it after all. The website detailed its separate branches that covered everything under the sun. It focused on community growth, but I felt it'd be unfair to ride on their services that weren't 100% tailored to growing a musical career. It looked more like a supportive network, and allies were welcome but...I sent the link to Nora too. Better to go together.

I put the empty plate in the dish, making several rounds to the table and back to gather all the individual cutlery and napkins. I might as well socialize within the concentrated music industry field. Nora would listen to my hour-long passionate spells about music and do her best to ask interesting questions, but it wasn't the same as relating with someone who loved it. Who had found the formula for musical success.

If Phiona wouldn't give me straightforward answers, it'd be worth stopping by one of those Hidden Stars promotion events. Sometimes Charu would be there, as their image was strongly tied to Hidden Stars. I could get some answers from them and see firsthand the environment. And it'd make a good deadline to make more progress on the swirl of papers, concept art for merch and recording clips littering my room.

I wanted the earlier drafts of my album songs to see the light of day. Proof that there was so much hidden under the final product motivated me to continue my labour of love, even when it felt like I wasn't moving at all.

I honed my music, fine-tuning each stanza and with it, my determination.

--

I arrived very late--as in, much later than I'd intended to--but there were still people here!

Cursing my bad luck, I lingered near the storefront's entrance, willing my invisibility to go away. It was like pushing through a wall of liquid mercury. My eyes and ears caught snippets of the pop-up display; people singing at the open mic stand, a table with promotion flyers, and paintings hung on the walls. The aroma of coffee kicked my heart into high gear and made me consider buying a cup, but after performing. After talking. Otherwise I'd talk so fast no one would understand me.

I twirled the lunchbox in my hands, feeling the guitar's weight on my shoulders and how the heels of my feet burned like coals from standing for so long, distracting myself with architectural facts about the mall--it was designed after London's Crystal Palace and seemed to be experiencing a slower, if not similar version of its namesake's fate--and walking. Waiting.

Just like that, my physical appearance melted back into view. The recycled air of the dying Woodbine Mall descended on my skin. I closed my eyes and stepped away from the giant empty walkways and into the Hidden Stars promotion event.

I'd been eying the line-up of musicians scribbling their names down for the open mic that currently no one was occupying. Maybe they were taking a break. Talking to one person with an accordion was really tempting but I held myself back. After adding my name, I swiped a promotion poster at a table. The poster's contents, and the person sitting at the table didn't provide more information than what I could find online.

"So, this is a promotion event," I said.

"Yep," said the guy who I suspected was this event organizer, judging by his lanyard and the important-looking nametag. Will. "Everything you need to know is in that poster. Our annual showcase is sometime away in the summer, however we also have different services offered to everyone depending on their needs. We have the management branch of course, if you're looking for an artist manager or someone to help guide you along the way. We also have talented promotion people, and then there's the booking agency. We have a lot of connections many you probably heard of, and we have services that can also help you improve your music, whether that's vocal lessons or workshops made by our own musicians to help each other thrive. Any questions?"

Get your name out there, network, show what you have to offer.

"You have nice soundproofing boards," I said instead. They could've leased out a smaller storefront, but soundproofing boards surrounded the open mic area which was sort of partitioned away from the area adjacent to the entrance. The expensive boards added a pleasant beige to the intense black and gold accented walls. "Is Hidden Stars making this a permanent location? Isn't that not a good idea since foot traffic's decreased in the mall? Ever since Sears closed down I hadn't bothered to come up here."

"We've been here for a long time, actually," he said, "before Hidden Stars became more well known. A corner between some empty retail space wasn't the best idea in hindsight, but this place is sentimental."

A few heads nodded, but a voice piped up, "He's not wrong. Is he? I mean...we can't shrug off bad publicity without doing something."

It was the person with the accordion from before. I frowned. There were some murmurs before Charu stepped in.

"What people think or say of Hidden Stars is irrelevant to our realities," they said. "I'm sure you've heard of the label's...past mistakes. This doesn't mean us, being here and making music when others would rather have us silenced, are wrong."

"But we should be accountable," the accordion player said. He crossed his legs like challenging Charu was the most natural thing in the world. "Informed. How am I supposed to explain why I'm staying with the record label that other musicians have spoken out against, when all I've heard are supposed to be 'rumours'?"

Mutterings of agreement floated around the room. I watched him graciously pass his instrument to another musician who wanted to try playing its many shiny buttons, each arranged according to the circle of fifths. Joachim stared right past like he didn't see me. I turned away, jealous at how well he integrated himself with the crowd and puzzled by his presence.

"You do what we've always done. Push through and keep your head high." Charu said.

The room went quiet. Someone stopped the soft background music I didn't realize was playing.

See, when you had a reputation for being mysterious and charismatic, along with a blazing record of industry success, you tend to gain respect. For Charu, this aura of respect translated into making you want them to like you. And that occasionally meant making you dart around touchy subjects.

I had analyzed many of their interviews with the media before. It was clear they had an unwavering loyalty towards the record label responsible for their success, and according to them, first showed them the respect they now had.

Joachim was toeing a fine line.

"M-M...Maybe," I said, breaking the silence, "maybe you could speak to your management. A-Ask for s-support." Curious heads turned in my direction. Lots of eyebrows. Oh no. "W-Will! You..."

He was the one who said Hidden Stars had a bunch of departments or something. There had to be for mental well-being, right?

Will nodded, eager to intervene. He started going on with what had to be a memorized verbal promotion, advertising Hidden Stars' resources and its history of aiding minority musicians who struggled to be recognized. The tension dissipated, and I slipped away to sit in a far corner and hum to myself. Really, my vocal thrumming could be mistaken as the hum of a generator, but no one seemed to mind.

Joachim seemed to have disappeared. I didn't know how a guy with an accordion could do that. I should find him and ask...

Was he part of Hidden Stars? Monty talked lots about his partner, so how hadn't I known?

Too much thinking. I hoped he was all right.

I inspected the framed paintings hung above me. Some had been taken down, and I saw the organizer guy from earlier beginning to remove the leftover Command Strips. Those that remained had the facial likeness and/or associated symbols of local musicians painted in stanzas and notes--sheet music of their own songs, no doubt. The carved wooden frames were smooth and worn under my fingers. Little treble clefs, peace signs and music theory like the Circle of Fifths were painstakingly carved in the frames. I went from picture to picture, absorbing the music theory I knew.

"Are you interested in buying them?"

Wide-eyed, I looked up at Charu. Too late to become invisible. Or had I been invisible this entire time? That would be why--

"...advise you don't touch them. It's suggesting you want to purchase them," they said. Oh, right. I quickly withdrew my hand. "We were hoping to get all of these sold out today. My name's Charu." They held out their hand. "You know that but it feels like the right thing to do, introducing myself."

I held out a fist and they fist-bumped me. "I'm Tai. So--" I gave up and pulled out the scrap paper with my questions drafted. "How do you know Phiona?"

They curled a short lock of hair around their finger. "We're--well. If you ask her, we used to be friends. It's her story to tell."

"She wouldn't tell me."

"Figured."

"She said she was treated badly here."

"Do you think that's true?"

I lowered my eyes. "What I think doesn't matter."

"I think it does," Charu said. "In this industry you're going to meet a lot of people who say a lot of things. Some of them will help you. Some will try to fix a problem that doesn't exist because they're stuck in the past. Don't get me wrong," they said, and smiled wistfully at what I could only call an abstract painting. "I know she doesn't return the sentiment, but Phiona's my friend. I tried to look out for her. You're her mentee, so I'll do the same for you. Here's some advice."

They leaned in with the intensity of an eagle. Maybe it was the soundproofing boards, but even while respecting my personal space and then some, their words funneled into my ear, meant for me and me alone.

"She agreed to perform under Hidden Stars' name one last time because she knew it's a powerful platform. She's struggling--but what musician isn't? What musician doesn't have a day where they doubt if the world cares about them because creativity is only valued when given for free?" They drew in a breath and recomposed themself. "I owe Hidden Stars everything for what they've done for me. If people aren't willing to swallow some hard work to rise to the top, it's their choice. But we have ours, too."

I blinked back tears.

Charu held up their hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be harsh, but that's just how survival is."

I wanted to believe them, I really did. Here they were, a successful musician with millions of listeners and the confidence to back it up.

Maybe it was Joachim's questions that threw them off, or like me, the stress of intangible things stacking up. "Do you know how diamonds are made?"

Charu frowned. "I'm not a geologist--"

"Heat, time and pressure." I shook my head. "I didn't think Hidden Stars' motto of 'finding diamonds in the rough' meant they'd push you so hard to believe something like that."

"Charu, everyone's waiting for you," Will called. Everyone's heads were turned our way as I wiped my eyes. The small crowd of musicians and people who've lingered this late added in their assent.

"They love making us wait."

"Show us the new song you've been working on!"

A hint of white teeth. "All right, all right." They turned back to me. "Tai, we can talk later and--"

I'd stepped behind my invisible curtain. They didn't see me but I crossed my arms anyway.

On the stage, they said, "This is my last one, and it's only because you asked."

They didn't have their violin. And it'd only be later when I pieced it together from context: most of the stragglers weren't looking to join Hidden Stars; they were already a part of it.

Without instrumentals, Charu sang a song with a simple chord progression that was easy on the voice:

Make their picture frame my own

Own the camera, I'm sold

No one needs to know

Where I'm from

Just a few years new

Yet I'm tired in these bones

Look at what you've lost

Smiling in the film tape

I'm running endlessly

A flourishing legacy

Look at what I have to gain

All you see is my back

Kiss goodbye, I'm erased

You're a whisper

I'm my own star

Grasping onto the light.

I gently slipped a painting off the wall and made my way back to the promotion posters table. "I'm going to buy this one after I perform."

Will glanced at the people trickling out the door. "Suit yourself."

This is how it's always been, I thought as I used my weak-ass triceps to boost myself onto the stage. (No way I was brushing past Charu and their friends who lingered on the stage steps.) My struggle caught the attention of a few. Good. I avoided playing to the quirky comedic relief angle, but when you were always running late, you never got the chance to be an opening act to a big name. A weakness, but it gave me a skill others didn't need: to catch a tired audience's attention by the throat.

Better than no audience at all.

The more you have

The more people take

From you like slices of cake

Was I doing the wrong thing? I felt my feet melt into the stage.

It pays to be nothing

People don't want you for nothing

Am I lonely?

Just only

'Cause I kept rather than gave away

My gifts

Had to push through. Not push others around, but push myself. Otherwise I would have wasted all this time and energy for nothing.

How much it costs to have a lot

How bitter the top feels when you're lost

Sky becomes ground

Dirt are the crumbs

Tasteless in your mouth.

There was a smattering of polite applause, like sprinkles on a cupcake. My feet were rooted in the stage. Charu hadn't left. Their expression was obscured under the shadows of their fedora. I allowed myself a nervous smile and counted down the minutes until my body became tangible once again.

--

"Tai, you were so good!"

I nearly dropped my dinner. Since when did Rajethiran and Joachim get here? At least they had the decency to approach from a distance before sitting on the bench. I kept my eyes trained on the plastic statue of an elephant that was kept enclosed in the abandoned indoor amusement park.

Joachim rifled through papers in his bag and zipped it up. "We're ready to go. Not sure if we accomplished everything we set out for."

Rajethiran shook their head. "It would've been nice, but thanks to Tai, I didn't need to say anything to Charu."

My hand passed through my dinner, again and again. No longer invisible, but currently, partially, intangible. First my feet, now my hand? My power, glitching at the most awkward times possible.

"And ohmygoodness, you saved one of them! Can I touch it?"

"Careful," said Joachim. "Old wood can crack."

Aha! Cold metal met my skin. I lifted my spoon in triumph and looked at them. "If I let you, can you leave me alone?"

"That's so--!"

"Hey," said Joachim. "Tai's tired. I'm tired. We're all tired. I'll send the details when I'm sure I'm not chasing a make-believe lead, but an awful lot of the paintings sold before we were able to get here. Could we please look at the painting, Tai? Then we'll get out of your hair."

I relented. Joachim unwrapped the painting like it was water. He didn't make a single tear as he pulled it out. Rajethiran snapped a picture of the painting?--no, the frame--before Joachim rewrapped it. Low price for such detailed handiwork. I hoped the money went back to the artist.

"I can't tell what the painting is," said Joachim.

"It's all about interpretation," Rajethiran said knowingly.

"You should've told me you're a musician," I said to Joachim.

"Nah, this thing? It's mine but somehow Raj plays it better," he shrugged as Rajethiran started to play a song from the Pirates of the Caribbean movie, moving their fingers while performing the arm workout that the peculiar instrument demanded. I cracked a small smile. "And thanks for saving me back there. Really," Joachim added.

I nodded. Questions for another time. To Rajethiran, I said, "Could you play what's on the painting?"

They squinted and tested out possible notes. The painting was made of notes to be played on the piano--at least, I hoped so, because if not, I did not know a lick of harp or other instruments that had both treble and bass clefs. On the left hand side, I'd recognized the irregular polygon as Toronto, with its skinny harbour and the Toronto Islands at the bottom. The object adjacent was harder to tell; was it another city, country, or a person reaching out as they fell? My family hadn't been to that place, otherwise I would've recognized what I suspected were transit routes connecting the two like spaghetti constellations.

The multitude of emotions, how quickly one reality melted into another as it all dissolved, into frantic eighth and sixteenth notes that would be a chore to play, but surely felt like second nature to its composer. Like how the dying mall had shrunken under the growing void its tenants had fled from; the arched skylights seemed to grow closer, become smaller, bend itself to its new reality.

"I can't figure it out," Rajethiran said. "Phiona would know."

"You're so certain," I said.

They set down the accordion and drew up their knees to their chest. "No one carves wood more beautifully than her."