A French Girl In New York

by Anna Adams

  When she arrived at the crown, followed by Matt, she stopped, breath taken. Although the air was chilly, a warm glow filled Maude as she took in the magnificent view that unraveled itself beautifully before her eyes. The city in all its splendor stood before her, separated by the sea but yet so close she could almost reach out to it.

  Matt took his cellphone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of Maude, her face forever frozen in enraptured delight.

  “Hey, you could warn me before taking my picture!” she cried. “It’ll be worth a lot of money someday. I don’t want it ending up in the wrong hands,” she added slyly.

  “Too late,” he replied, snapping another shot while she protested. “You look great, don’t worry.”

  “Give me that!” she exclaimed as she tried to snatch his phone out of his hand. They wrestled wildly for about five minutes before Maude managed, breathlessly, to grab the phone out of Matt’s grip.

  She instantly started snapping shots of him. He made an attempt at shielding his face.

  “So, Mr. Matt, what does it feel like to be constantly harassed by the paparazzi?”

  “Aw, you get used to it. It gets old fast. I just want to be a normal guy,” he answered in a mock tone.

  “I don’t believe you for a second,” Maude said. “I saw your face while you were taking pictures with your raging fan club. You love it don’t you? The fame, the fortune, the admiration. Your pride wouldn’t handle becoming a normal teenager again. Admit it, or you won’t get your phone back.”

  “I’m not ashamed of admitting it. I do love it,” he admitted. “You, on the other hand, have yet to admit that you are having a great time right now and how right I was to push you out of Soulville Records.”

  “I refuse to admit such a thing,” Maude said, raising her head high. “Besides, the day isn’t over yet, so there’s still plenty of room left for you to mess up,” she added, tossing him his cell nonchalantly.

  “You’re right, the day isn’t over, and I’m starving. Let’s have lunch. And I know just the place.”

  “Matt! You’re back!” cried an eight-year-old girl with a bouncy ponytail as she sprang into his arms.

  Matt and Maude had just entered a Mexican restaurant in Brooklyn, called Las Fajitas. Maude admired the surroundings. The place was cozy and entertaining at the same time. There was a desert-themed decoration, sombreros hanging on the walls, and cactuses stood next to each red-draped table. The place was packed, and some of the customers danced to the lively salsa music played by a live band of guitars, drums and maracas.

  “Of course I’m back.” Matt said, hugging the girl warmly. “How are you, Anita? Where are Rosa and Eduardo?”

  “They’re coming. I’m fine. I lost my two front teeth. See?”

  Anita proudly exhibited the gap in her mouth as if she was presenting a trophy.

  “Lovely,” he said smiling. “I bet the tooth fairy brought you a surprise, didn’t she?”

  “She did! I’m rich now, Matt. I can buy you a convertible if you want. Who’s this?” she asked, pointing to Maude.

  “Good question, Anita. Who is this lovely girl you brought to our restaurant?” asked an imposing, dark-haired woman in an apron emerging from the kitchen, followed by a thin, dark-haired man.

  “Rosa, Eduardo!” Matt cried before being pulled into a tight, bear hug.

  “We haven’t seen you in ages! You’ve neglected us. And you’ve become so thin, Matt. What have you been eating?”

  “I came last month, Rosa. That hardly qualifies as neglect. Besides I’ve been very busy working on Maude’s album. Maude, meet Rosa, the best cook in New York.”

  “In New York? In the world you mean. Pleased to meet you, Maude. Matt never brings any of his friends here. I always thought he was ashamed of us.”

  “Never, Rosa,” Matt assured. “I was more ashamed of my friends. Maude is presentable though. Is there a single table left?”

  “Ah, Matt, you know there’s always room for you,” Eduardo said, squeezing through the crowded room.

  “Here, you two sit back and enjoy. I’ll cook whatever you want. You both look too thin. Take anything you want, it’s on the house,’” Rosa said leaving before Matt could protest.

  Eduardo leaned over to Matt and said, “You know the only thing she wants is for you to sing on that stage. So, you do that when you’ve finished eating,” he said, winking to Maude as he left.

  “They seem like really great people,” Maude beamed.

  “They’re the best. And the food is amazing.”

  “I don’t really know what to take. I’ve never eaten Mexican food before.”

  “The Machaca is a great dish, you should try it.”

  “Okay, if you say so.”

  “All right, I’ll go tell them.”

  Matt hurried to the back of the restaurant while Maude watched the musicians put their instruments to rest taking a break.

  When Matt came back, he was carrying two large fruity drinks with tiny, red umbrellas perched on the rims.

  “While we wait,” he said, placing a drink in front of her.

  “This place looks great,” Maude said sipping her drink.

  “I’ve been coming here for years. Anita was barely walking the first time I ever set foot here.”

  “Was it before or after you became famous?” Maude asked slyly.

  “Before. It doesn’t matter. I’ll always be their Matt.”

  Maude looked at him thoughtfully before asking, “I’m curious. If you love being in the limelight so much, why take a break from it all for two years after having released three Grammy Award-winning albums?”

  “I was sick of Glitter Records. I didn’t want to work with them anymore,” he admitted simply. “I refused to be Glitter Records’ puppet any longer.”

  “Can I give my honest opinion?” Maude asked. “I thought your debut album, Matt, was nice. It seemed like you really put a lot of thought into it. Your sophomore album, Superstar, was dreadful. Your hit singles, ‘Living the Life’ and ‘To the Top,’ totally lacked depth. As for “The Love Doctor,” you know what I think about that one.”

  Matt laughed at her blunt honesty.

  “I wholeheartedly agree with you. When I was discovered by Glitter Records, they were willing to promote me as the singer-songwriter I was. I fully participated in the creation of Matt. The album was a huge success, even more than they had anticipated, and they absolutely wanted to capitalize on that success. I had worked almost a year on Matt. Superstar was finished in a month, and I hadn’t written a single lyric on it. I hated that album. They wanted me to release a new single almost every week! For Matt, I had released three singles, but for Superstar I released a total of seven. I thought the album was crap, but it was an even bigger success,” he said sourly.

  “Too bad you didn’t know James Baldwin back then, huh?”

  “Actually I did. He wanted to sign me at the same time Glitter Records offered me a contract.”

  “Why didn’t you sign with him?” Maude queried, wondering why anyone would choose Glitter Records over Soulville Records.

  “My father wanted me to sign with Glitter Records. I didn’t want to, but he said he didn’t want me to waste time. He wasn’t very supportive about my whole music career, but still managed to coerce me into signing with Glitter Records. I was only fourteen back then,” he mused.

  “How come you and the Baldwins are so close then?”

  “After I signed with Glitter Records, my father and I had a falling out. I left the house and, not wanting to live alone, I moved in with the Baldwins and stayed with them for two years. They’re the closest thing I have to family, apart from my aunt.”

  “Wow, I had no idea, Matt. What about your mother? She mustn’t have been happy to see you move in with the Baldwins.”

  Matt looked at Maude, his eyes troubled for just a split second. Then, he smiled wanly and said, “My mother died of breast cancer five years ago.”

  “Oh God, Matt,
I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” Maude cried, wringing her hands.

  “It’s fine, Maude. I don’t mention it often, especially to the press,” he explained sadly. “She was an opera singer. My father made her give it up when I was born. She was incredible.”

  “That’s where you get your love for music.”

  “That’s right. She taught me everything I know about music. She loved classical but listened to all sorts of music, she taught me to never scorn a music style. My Dad never understood that. He never understood why I loved rhythm and blues, soul, funk, rock, or anything that wasn’t classical. When we left Paris six years ago and came to New York because of my father’s promotion, Mom saw it as a great opportunity for me to start a music career. She died a year later and never got to see me succeed.”

  He had loved and mourned, she had never known those she mourned. Two tragedies. Different yet somehow similar in their consequences. They both felt the void left by the absence of a mother’s love. Was it better to miss a mother’s warm embrace or to never have known it? Maude wondered, feeling closer to him than she’d ever felt before.

  “I’m sure she would be very proud,” Maude said, gently.

  “I’m not so sure,” he shook his head. “She might’ve been proud of the first album, but not the second. When I realized that, I wanted to leave Glitter Records, but I was bound for another album. I told them I wanted out. They tried to calm me down by telling me I could work on some of the songs of the third album, Moving On, and by letting me try my hand as a composer for other artists.”

  “That’s when you worked with Lindsey,” Maude put in a little sourly.

  “Exactly. And when ‘Burning Bridges’ became a hit, launching Lindsey’s career, they wanted me to sign a new contract, allowing me all creativity for my future albums. By then I was smarter and went straight to Soulville Records as a composer and producer-in-training. That was a two years ago, and I haven’t regretted it since.”

  “You did a great job on Andy Thompson’s album. And the song you wrote for Diane Cameron, ‘Craving,’ is really awesome,” Maude gushed.

  “Aha! Finally! A genuine compliment from the great Maude Laurent!” Matt exclaimed in triumph.

  Maude barely suppressed a smile. She was definitely warming up to Matt’s personality, and the thought didn’t displease her as much as it once might have.

  “Do you think you’ll ever release an album as a singer again?” she asked.

  “It’s definitely an option, but right now I’m happy where I am. With you,” he answered, his eyes resting on her. “I mean, working with you and everything,” he added quickly.

  Maude’s face grew hot under his stare, and she grabbed her drink almost spilling it over the tablecloth.

  Luckily, at that moment, the waiter brought food, and Maude turned her whole attention to her plate. She grabbed a spoonful of her dish and gladly shoved it in her mouth. Then, two things happened almost simultaneously. She felt her mouth was on fire, and she saw, through misty eyes, Matt snap a shot of her with his cellphone all the while laughing hysterically. She was too confused to actually understand what was happening around her. Her throat went dry, her eyes watered as she desperately gasped for breath.

  “Water!” she croaked, choking over her food.

  Matt, who had burst into peals of hearty laughter, poured her a big glass of water. She grabbed it, spilled half of it on the table, and drank it greedily like a camel in the desert. She then successively poured herself three glasses of water before being able to utter a word.

  “You’re dead,” she croaked to a hilarious Matt. “You think this is funny? I’d like to see you try, now. You owe me that.”

  “No way. I already tried it once, and I’m never doing that again. I don’t have a death wish.”

  “You knew all along what I was taking, and you let me take a gigantic mouthful of this volcanic sauce?” she asked wiping her eyes.

  “The picture looks great. Take a look.”

  Maude’s face was frozen in a look of sheer horror, her eyes bulging, her hands to her throat, her lips curled upside down.

  Maude laughed. She looked completely ridiculous.

  “That’s how you’ll look when I’ll be done with you,” she threatened, handing him back his phone.

  “We can share my plate. There’s enough to feed an army.”

  Maude nodded, and they shared their food. There really was enough to feed an army. Maude and Matt, who had been starving, happily finished the entire dish all the while chatting animatedly, only stopping to chew their food. They were like two long-lost souls who had found each other and who couldn’t stop talking to make up for lost time. Matt, as he looked at Maude, felt that he had finally managed to break through the armor she usually put on whenever he was around.

  As for Maude, she had rarely enjoyed anyone’s company so much and was amazed to think she had actually hated Matt from the start after their incident in the subway. They argued playfully about everything from other singers and composers to their very own songs and their tastes. From Mozart and Beethoven to Alicia Keys, John Legend, Rihanna, Nicki Minaj, Lady Gaga, Aerosmith, Marilyn Manson, David Guetta, The Rolling Stones, Lauryn Hill. Every artist Maude knew by heart or that she had just discovered, was dissected and analyzed by the two musicians. Every random subject was an excuse to argue and debate playfully.

  “You really think New York is better than Paris?” she asked.

  “Don’t you?”

  “I love New York, but you don’t understand what Paris represented for me. It was utter freedom. I was free from Carvin, even if it was only for a day.”

  “And you’ve been free in New York for over a month,” he pointed out.

  “That’s true. Meeting Mr. Baldwin was a turning point in my life, and Paris will always be that city for me no matter how much I adore New York. You’ve lived in Paris a good part of your life, that’s why you take it for granted.”

  “My mission isn’t over yet. We should get going if I want to show you the other places you need to see,” he said getting up.

  The band had started playing again, and couples started to dance.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” asked Rosa appearing out of nowhere, her daughter by her side. “You do know you aren’t leaving here without getting on that stage, Matt? A little improvisation won’t do you any harm, and you know it. Maude can sing with you seeing as she’s a singer as well.”

  “What do you think Maude, are you up for it?”

  “I’ve never improvised before,” Maude confessed, looking tentatively at the stage.

  “Now is a good time to start,” Rosa urged.

  “Oh, please, Matt, sing for us,” Anita pleaded.

  “Only if Maude comes with me.”

  “I never walk away from a challenge,” Maude answered. There’s a first time for everything, she thought with wry humor. Her first instinct should have been to run seeing as she had never improvised, but the tiny voice in her head told her she’d rather be tortured in a Middle Age dungeon than let Matt sense an ounce of fear emanating from her.

  She listened to the band composed of drums and guitar, maracas, and the beats were getting louder and quicker as Maude approached the stage, her heart beating as fast as the drum.

  She could do this. She could improvise. At least she hoped she could. If Matt could do it, so could she. And better than him, too, she thought with a flash of fiery pride.

  Matt took the first microphone and said, “Hello, everyone. I was talking to my friend Maude here, and she was telling me that Paris is the best city in the world. And I explained that New York was the greatest city. But she’s quite a stubborn girl and she keeps insisting!”

  Matt was a definite crowd pleaser. Not a hint of shyness, not a trace of bashfulness emanated from him. His confidence had won over millions of people around the world and as she looked at him, Maude understood why. Beyond his penetrating stare and his devastating smile transpired something deeper.
Maude had felt it in the Creation Room and witnessed it presently in magnified proportions: he wholeheartedly and irrefutably loved music. Just like she did, Matt lived for music.

  “So, I’m going to need your help convincing her, okay?” he yelled.

  The crowd yelled back in agreement.

  “All right, here it goes.”

  You’re new in New York

  So look at the view

  Stop standing around

  While the city flies past you

  New York never sleeps

  Party all night long

  Get up on your feet

  Dance from night til dawn

  The crowd cheered as Maude went on stage and grabbed the second microphone. She sang in a strong voice the following words:

  Rats all over the place

  Subways breaking down

  Coffee spilled in my face

  The list goes on and on

  The crowd encouraged Maude loudly again, and she looked at Matt defiantly before taking on the chorus:

  New York’s the place to see

  Paris the place to be

  Paris beats New York any day

  Just give up and walk away

  Matt continued:

  Strikes everyday

  Protests once a month

  That’s Paris for you

  Girl, you know it’s true

  New York’s the city of the free

  Led by the Statue of Liberty

  Concrete maze, blissful haze

  A lively mess, a melting pot

  Tied together in a tight knot

  Maude danced to the beat of the drums, her feet thumping, her mind whirling, and hands clapping. Then she stopped and answered, raising her head a little higher:

  New York City sounds okay

  Paris takes my breath away

  Music is in the air

  Rhythm is everywhere

  Dancing in Moulin Rouge

  Beats New Year’s in Times Square