Page 9 of Counterpoint and Harmony

“But everything we’ve worked for …” she finally manages to croak out. My poor mother. I’m not sure why she didn’t see this coming after I threatened to cut off all contact while I was at school. I guess she expected me to come home with my head bowed, ready for her to take over again.

I did, to some degree, at first. Going along with more of her suggestions than not. Letting her and Delilah, my PR person, find me an “appropriate” date for the Grammy’s, my first public appearance since Jonathan and Gabby’s wedding.

Which only confirmed my desire not to do that again. I don’t want everyone else running my life, dismissing my input if they even hear it in the first place.

No. I’m taking control of my own career. Starting with finding a new manager.

And working with a producer who’s happy to take my scribblings and turn them into gold. Maybe even platinum.

If we can get a good demo laid down in his studio, I can take that to my meeting with the label in a few weeks and convince them that letting me write my next album isn’t a mistake. That I’m capable of keeping my continuity of hits going.

Squeezing my mom’s arm once more, I give her a closed-mouth smile. Releasing her, I gather my papers and pencil and head to my room to change for my meeting with The Professor.

The whole point of the Marycliff experiment to begin with was to prove to myself that I was capable of living life on my own terms. To get out from under my mother’s thumb and make my own decisions.

And here I am taking control of my album, my career, my life.

Mission accomplished.

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