Page 7 of Snapdragon

Yikes. I guess the Monsters do really keep information about themselves under lock and key. I start to read through the reports, but it’s all conflicting information. One Human man claims that he saw a dragon breath fire, another woman claims ice. There’s a lot of back and forth as to whether they even have a humanoid form or not.

We know the truth about that, at least.

I don’t come away from the article with any more information than before, and it’s incredibly frustrating.

A cup of tea is set down next to my laptop.

“Oh, but I didn’t order—” I say, looking up to find Rosie.

“No,” she agrees. “But you looked like you needed it. I’ll be around to chat once this dies down a bit.” She gestures around herself as if I hadn’t already noticed the bustling café.

“Thank you,” I call after her as she gets back to work.

I take a sip of my tea, the temperature perfect. It tastes like her calming chamomile blend.

Sighing, I lean back into the velvet cushions, contemplating the life choices that led me here.

I came here to talk to Rosie about the PR plans from the label, but I realize now that I can’t tell her. The label are most definitely going to make me sign an non-disclosure agreement, listing that I can’t tell anyone that it’s a PR stunt.

Is this really what I wanted for myself?

I wanted to share my music with people who it could bring joy to. It’s probably because I haven’t released new music in a few months, but I’m feeling a bit disconnected from my audience already. Never mind that the label is now concocting this scheme.

I force down a gulp of tea and then take a deep breath. Maybe I need to do a dance class. I text Daisy and Cleo to see if they’re free.

Yeah, babe. We can do tomorrow morning?

Daisy is the one to text back, usually one of the pair will text back for them both. It’s not as soon as I would like, but tomorrow will do. I confirm that I’ll join.

Farrow brings along my Buddha bowl and I almost drool at the sight. If anything, I at least always have food as a comfort. Rosie’s signature Buddha bowl is delicious. It’s a comforting mix of falafel, avocado, spinach, edamame, shredded carrot, topped with pomegranate seeds and a tahini dressing. Also known as heaven.

I shut my laptop, deciding to focus on my food and my surroundings. I have a feeling that I could keep searching on there forever and not be any closer to the truth.

I finish my food and order a hazelnut latte. I might as well have more caffeine to get me through this day. I’m not sure what to do at this point. Do I go for the PR stunt, or say no? Can I say no?

Sure, Frank has said he will give me the time, but I know that’s because he expects me to say yes at the end of it. My development deal will finish in a couple months, and if the label isn’t happy with me they will drop me. I’m sure of it.

It’s not that my music has been doing poorly, but they won’t want someone that they can’t manipulate on their books.

This is a disaster.

It takes a while, but eventually Rosie is able to take the seat across from me.

“Tell me everything!”

“It was strange, Rosie. They were kind of scary, but mostly just… aloof?” Her expression falls and I know she was expecting something juicier. “I’m kind of regretting doing it to be honest. They didn’t speak to me at all. We got the pictures taken and then they left.”

Rosie looks crestfallen, her brows drawing close together and she worries at her lip.

“I’m sorry, Flo. I thought it would have been super fun and exciting.”

I grab her hand across the table. “I know, it’s totally not your fault. How would you have known anyway? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

We sit in silence for a moment. The café has quietened down significantly, the deafening noise from earlier quietening down to a lull.

“You know what we need?” Rosie quips with a gleam in her eye. “A night out!”

“Ugh, you are so right!” I tell her. “When?”