Pop Rock Love (12 page)

“Thanks... I appreciate it.
He’s really cute,” she said, hugging onto the toy.

Jiro sat next to her on the
floor. “You know pop stars don’t sell music. We sell dreams to people.”

“Are dreams worth
more than love?” Mimi asked.

“If the love is true, it will
wait until the dream becomes a reality. True love also gives strength to a
dream.”

“I think you are smarter than
you look,” she said, gazing at the shaggy brown-haired boy.

“And I think you are stronger
than you look. Anyway I told my brother to come and get you.”

“Sato? Oh please, he is so busy
and so in love with himself, he won’t come. I’ll take a cab.”

At the moment, the toilet door
burst open and Sato appeared right in front of her eyes. “Why do you keep
getting injured? Are you some sort of masochist?” he hollered at Mimi.

“Do you think I got hurt on
purpose?” she shouted back. Jiro helped her to her feet. “Thanks Jiro, for the
cat. Good luck for your concert tours too.”

“Don’t mention it!” he replied
cheerfully. “Bye, brother! I’ll leave her with you then.”

Sato and Mimi sat in the BMW
convertible – with its top closed – in silence as it cruised the
Tokyo streets. The sun was setting and the street lamps were turned on. Mimi
just leaned against the car door, staring at the view forlornly. Sato was
holding on to the steering wheel with one hand and resting his head with his
other hand.

“Sato...” she said, out of the
blue.

“Hmm?” he grunted, keeping his
eyes on the road.

“I will be your best artiste.”

Sato sniggered in reply. “You
don’t believe me?” Mimi asked.
  

“I’ll believe it when you stop
crying and start composing.”

How can anyone be so
insensitive, she thought.

“Mimi...”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay to cry if you want
to.”

“Idiot.”

Track #8

For the next eight months,
Mimi’s days consisted of long hours at Niji Building, working on her debut
single and album. Sometimes, she even found herself sleeping on the floor of
the studio after days of non-stop composing and rehearsals. Eight months had
passed since she signed the contract with Niji Music. Besides working on
composition and recording, she had also been given Japanese language tuition
and vocal training. Mimi was also thankful that her ankle was finally healed.
She was surrounding herself with so much music, that she didn’t have much time
to think about anything else.

Today, Mimi was in the band
rehearsal studio, practicing her debut single “Maybe” on a pink electric
guitar. Sato – who had since taken on the role as her main producer
– entered the studio and passed her some music sheets and a CD.

“This song will be the B-side
for your debut single,” he said. Mimi stared at the title of the paper. The
song was called “Farewell”.

“Isn’t this the new song you
have been working on for months?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. It was
that same sad melody she heard him play every night.

“Why? Is it not good enough for
you?” he challenged, raising his voice a notch.

“I thought you were going to
give it to Filth?”

“I changed my mind.”

“But... But... This song is the
best song I’ve heard in a long time. I don’t think it should just be the B-side
of my single!” Mimi exclaimed.

Sato looked at her and tapped
the disc lightly. “This song is very personal to me, maybe too personal.
Putting it on the B-side of a single ensures that it won’t be blasted on the
airwaves often. It’s better that way.”

“Thank you, Sato... I’m
honoured...” she stammered, more out of being rendered speechless and at a loss
for words.

“And as to why I am giving this
song to an inexperienced and shady artiste like yourself, you figure it out,”
he said in a huff and stormed out of the room.

Two more weeks and Mimi would
be having her first live in Tokyo, as an opening act for Filth. Although Sato
was not technically her manager, he had been acting like one. Of late, he had
been dictating Mimi’s every professional move. Maybe he’s scared that I’ll mess
this up, she thought. Her “real” manager, Kenta, entered the studio. He was in
his thirties, with dirty blonde short hair, small eyes and a thing for leather
jackets. “Mimi, your first live is at O-Nest, a live house in Shibuya. Sato
told me that you will perform this new song, ‘Farewell’ as well?” Kenta
inquired.

“Yes, he just told me.”

“He said that a single
keyboardist will accompany you for that song. We won’t need the band. His name
is Kamaki and he’ll practise and record the single with you later this week.”

“I wonder if we can make it on
time,” Mimi said, furrowing her brows.

“Don’t worry, we will. Have you
been eating, you look like a ghost,” asked Kenta, looking at her sternly. Mimi
let out a sheepish grin and shook her head. “I kinda forget to eat sometimes.”

“Come on, let’s go to the café
across the street. Some sun will do you good, you’re looking too pale these
days.”

Sitting underneath the autumn
sun, at an alfresco café, Mimi started wolfing down some spaghetti carbonara.
“See, I knew you were hungry,” said Kenta, folding his arms and looking at her
in disdain. “After your debut, be careful not to eat like that in public.”

Mimi held back a retort, not
wanting to talk with her mouth full.

“How many tickets do you want
for the Filth live? I can get them for you.”

“Probably one?” she replied,
thinking about Shina.

“One? Are you sure? It’s your
music debut and you only want one? What about your friends in Singapore? Mom?
Dad?” asked Kenta.

“Mom and dad passed away a few
years ago,” Mimi said, reaching out to gulp down a glass of water.

“I’m sorry. How did they pass
on?”

“Car accident, about two years
ago. I do have a younger brother, but he’s busy with his studies in Singapore.
I don’t think he’ll be able to make it.”

“Well, at least tell him about it.”

“I will.”

Kenta looked at her with a
slight hint of pity. Actually, Mimi had been working so much on her music that
she forgot to make any friends in Tokyo. Besides Shina, whom she knew before,
everyone else she had met were all related to her for a professional reason.
Even her relationship with Sato was a little confusing these days. She wondered
if he just saw her as an asset to Niji Records.

Mimi sighed and at that moment,
loud pop music was heard blaring from a container truck. She turned around to
see five familiar faces on the container truck.

“It’s Fire Boy’s latest single,
‘Violet Crush’. I don’t know how familiar you are with the Japanese music
industry but if this song doesn’t budge from the top spot for a month, it may
be the main competition stopping your song from hitting number one on the
Oricon Charts.”

Mimi looked at Kenta in
surprise. “You really believe that I can make it to number one?”

“I don’t see why not. Why else
would I be your manager?” he asked. Mimi laughed. Somehow Kenta’s confidence
reminded her of someone.

“Are you sure you’re not
related to Sato in any way?” she asked.

Kenta shook his head, “Of
course not, I am so much better looking!” Mimi laughed in reply. But her
manager turned serious and started to speak in a low tone, “Actually, there’s
something that I need to tell you. Maybe it’s because you’ve been so busy that
this hadn’t occurred to you.”

“What is it?”

“I think you should find a new
apartment before your official debut.”

He was right, even though her
ankle had recovered for months, Mimi had only been thinking about her music
that she totally forgot about moving out. And Sato never even mentioned it to
her. It made sense to move out as soon as possible, yet, why did the idea make
Mimi a little sad?

*

By the time she got back to the
apartment it was already past midnight. She glanced at the shoe rack and
noticed Sato’s snake-skinned boots. Was he home? She wondered. The whole
apartment was dark though. Mimi walked over to the spiral staircase and looked
up. The lights from his bedroom and study room were off. Truth be told, in all
the months that she’d been staying at Sato’s, Mimi had never seen him sleep
without the aid of alcohol. She decided to check up on him and walked over to
his bedroom. She found him sleeping in between the bed covers in his room and
was about to close the bedroom door when she heard him mutter, “No...no...why
are you lying....it can’t be true...stop it....no...no....”

She turned back, alarmed.
Talking in his sleep? However what startled her was that beads of sweat were
starting to form on his forehead. “Sato...” she whispered. Mimi sat by his
bedside, looking at him.

He suddenly let out a shout and
sprang awake, grabbing her close to him. Mimi yelped in shock. His whole body
was trembling and he was drenched in cold sweat. Mimi didn’t know how to calm
him down, so she just sat there, on his bed, by his side, letting him hold her
as long as he wanted to.

It was probably only about five
minutes later when his breathing slowly steadied that he finally loosened his
grasp on her.

“Please excuse me,” he said,
turning away.

“Don’t worry about it. Do you
want something to drink?”

“I’ll get some coffee
downstairs. Can you have some with me?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“I really hate sleeping, but
sometimes it can’t be helped,” said Sato, pouring a cup of coffee.

“Do you hate sleeping or do you
hate dreaming?” she asked, taking a seat at the dinner table.

“I hate the nightmares,” he
replied, joining her. He took a sip of coffee from his cup. “How are things
between you and Yuki?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject.

“I haven’t heard from him. We
broke up eight months ago.”

Sato rubbed his eyes and
sighed. “You know, I used to be in a boy band.”

Mimi raised her eyebrows,
“What?”

“Yeah, I was even under Fame
Factory.”

“Same as the Fire Boys. What
happened?”

“I was in a trainee group when
I was 15. We did not debut officially, but it was just for practice purposes. I
was in a three-member group. Hiroki, Daichi and I would do acrobats and sing
cheery songs. We were actually quite popular for a trainee group. One of the
fans gave me some expensive chocolates. Daichi, loving sweet things, was
playing around and ate them first. But then, we realised that the chocolates
were filled with talcum powder and it was given to us by a fan from a rival
talent agency. He started choking and we had to send him to the hospital...”

“What happened then?” Mimi
asked, fearing the worst.

“He didn’t make it. The worst
thing was, Daichi had asthma. If I had eaten the chocolates, I doubted that it
would have had such a fatal effect.”

“I’m sorry, Sato...”

“No one really remembers this
anymore since we were not an official pop group. So I left Fame Factory after
that and everyone only knows me as a rock music producer now.”

“The song ‘Farewell’... It’s
about Daichi, isn’t it?”

Sato looked at her and nodded.
In a way, Mimi somehow understood why he was telling her all this now.

“Thank you for letting me sing
it.”

“You’re the only one who is
able to sing it,” he said, gulping down the remainder of the coffee from his
cup. “I’m going to do some work now, good night,” said Sato. Mimi looked at the
retreating figure and wondered what he meant by that.