For the Record Chapter 13

>The alarm clock goes off at nine, but what wakes you up is Octavia shoving you out of the bed and onto the floor.
>”Get up! Celestia's sake get up!” she shouts.
>You groan loudly and try to shoo her away.
>”We're going to miss breakfast if you don't get up.”
“Why don't you just go down and eat?”
>”I don't want you complaining that you didn't eat when we 're going down to meet Miss Seventh.”
“We're meeting her at a restaurant.”
>You sit up and grope for a shirt.
>”All the same, get up. We have a lot to do today, you know.”
“I know. I planned it.”
>”Did you plan to do it all after noon?”
“Alright, alright. Is there coffee?”
>”Downstairs there is.”
>You leap up and find your pants. Within a minute you're clothed.
“Let's go.”

>The two of you walk out onto the Fillydelphia streets an hour later. The hotel sits on the northwest corner of the city's central square overlooking city hall.
>Fillydelphia doesn't gleam like Canterlot. There's a sense of claustrophobia to the place that you don't see in the capital. The lofty buildings are spread out there and accompanied by parks and squares. Here the dominate the sky and close the streets in.
>Octavia walks slowly, taking in the architecture. You pass an alley that smells distinctly like a farm stable.
>”You know where we're meeting, right?” Octavia asks.
“Of course.” You check the time. “It's only a few blocks away. Minnie says it's a great place. Right on Riddenhorse Square, great view of the park.”
>”Perfect for business deals?”
“Now you're getting it,” you smile.
1/

>”So,” Octavia says after a second's pause, “does Twilight know you're here?”
>You shrug.
“Don't think I mentioned it last letter. Maybe I'll send her a postcard.”
>”That would be nice.”
“You gonna send Arpeggia anything?”
>Octavia coughs.
“We have plenty of time for you to pick out something nice.”
>”Likewise.”
>You open your mouth to retort, but stop when you see how pleased she looks with herself.
>You pass by a small cart with steam pouring out the top.
“Ever have a cheesehay? That's a big thing here.”
>”I don't think so. What are they?” Octavia asks.
“They get this long roll, right? So they grill it, shove a ton of hay in there and then cover it in cheese. You get onions and peppers and stuff, too.”
>”You know we're on our way to lunch, right?”
“Yeah, we're getting one of those tomorrow.”
>”You've decided for us?”
“I've decided for us.”
>”What if I say no?”
“You won't say no. You're into it. Look at you. You're drooling.”
>”I am not!”
“Totally are.”
>”I hate you so much.”
“That's why we're such good buddies!” You push into her and steer the two of you into the square.
>A few ponies stop and stare at you as you walk by.
>You cock your head back at a few of them with a smirk.
>Octavia watches you.
>”Does it bother you how they're staring?” she asks.
“Not really. You get used to it, y'know?”
>”I suppose.”
>You check your watch.
“We should get to the restaurant.”
>”Then why are we in the park?”
“Because I wanted to see the scenery.”
>You motion with your head towards a group of mares sitting under a nearby tree and get up.
“Let's get to lunch.”
2/

>Minor Seventh is waiting at a table outside. She waves at you genially. “Anon! How are you? Enjoying the city?” She rises from her seat. “This must be Octavia. I've heard so much about you! Come sit! I'll have them bring you something!”
>The mare waves to the closest waiter. “You like tulip? They fry them here. It's divine.”
“Sounds good. City's been nice so far.”
>”Long night? You look haggard.”
“Little bit. Found a bar that serves absinthe.”
>”Past city hall?”
“Down the alley in the back of that old earth pony place.”
>”I know the one. I closed a platinum deal there last year.”
“Good place.” You pull a chair out. “Tavi, want a seat? This is Minor Seventh, in case you hadn't gathered.”
>”Nice to meet you,” Minor says.
>You take a seat next to the cellist.
“So how about we get down to it? What did the board think of Tavi's tape? The call I got was just a secretary saying they wanted to meet with us.”
>Octavia looks on expectantly.
>”That's good news,” Minor answers. “I'll be in that meeting as well, as the two of you are going to be my responsibility if you decide to sign on.”
>”They want to sign me?” Octavia asks, wide eyed.
>”Yes. The meeting will be to hash out details of the contract.”
>You clap your hands together.
“Alright, that's all I needed to know. I'll leave you girls to it.”
>”What?” Octavia looks nervous.
“Oh, don't look at me like that. She's not going to bite.” You look at Minnie. “Take care of my client.”
>”Of course,” Minnie replies.
“Now if you ladies will excuse me, I'm getting a taco.”
3/

>The stallion at the taco cart looks at you skeptically when you come up to him.
>“What're you supposed to be?” he asks gruffly.
“Hungry. How much are tacos?”
>He keeps eying you.
>”Bit apiece.”
“Cool. I'll take four. That come with a box?”
>”Sure.”
>You drop the coins on the counter.
>”Minute or two.”
>Across the street, Minnie starts laughing at something Octavia has said.
>You figure the two of them will be busy for a while.
“Hey, how do I get to the big market from here?” you ask the stallion.
>”Terminal Market? Six blocks north, four west.”
“They're open today, yeah?”
>”Course.” He pushes the tacos to you.
“Thanks.”
>You've got time.
>Ten blocks and four tacos later, you walk into the Terminal Market.
>A group of young ponies walks by and start giggling when they see you.
>One of them points. You look over their heads and see a small shop selling souvenirs.
“Scuse me,” you say coolly, pushing through the group.
>”What're you supposed to be?” one of them sneers. You turn around for a second.
>The stallion who made the remark looks like he's waiting for some response.
>You check your watch and continue to the shop without giving him the satisfaction.
4/

>”Good morning!” the portly stallion at the souvenirs  shop says upon seeing your approach. “What can I do for you?”
>You take a look around at some of the tchochkes.
“I'm looking for something to give to a mare I know. Big history nerd.”
>The stallion thinks for a minute. “Hrm...” he hums. Suddenly he seems struck by realization and zips over to one of the shelves.
>”I assume this is a special somep0ny?” he asks.
“In a sense,” you reply, suddenly second-guessing your decision.
>”I've got just the thing.” He sets a small figurine in front of you.
>You lean in and squint at it.
“What is it?”
>”It's a model of our fair city's founder, Free Trail, of course!”
>You pick the figurine up and examine it.
“Alright. Do you have postcards?”
>”Right here.”
“Great. Can you box this? What do I owe you?”
>”Seven bits.”
>You drop the coins on the counter.
“Oh, and can you tell me where the post office is?”
5/

>You sit at a coffee shop a couple of blocks from the market.
>The postcard sits blank on the table staring back at you.
>The figurine sits in its box next to your drink.
>You arch your fingers and think.
>And you sit.
>And you think.
>And you hesitate.
>It hits you that you're hesitating.
>With a sharp nod to yourself, you take out a pen and start writing.
>When you sign off the postcard, you cross your arms and tap your fingers on the table.
“Okay.”
>You finish your coffee and get up.
>It's time to meet back up with Octavia and Minor Seventh.
>You eventually come back to the pair sitting in the park.
>Octavia is smiling brightly.
>”Anon! You're back!” Minnie says loudly. “Did you enjoy your walk?”
“Very much. Have you two gotten to know each other?”
>”Very well. We had a lovely lunch, didn't we?”
>Octavia nods. She spots the box poking out of your pocket.
>”What's that?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Hm? Oh, nothing. Just a souvenir.”
>”Uh huh.”
“Are you mad at me?” you half-scoff.
>”You tricked me.”
“Only a little.”
>”What's in the box?”
“Souvenir.”
>”You never buy souvenirs.”
“It's not for me.”
>”Then who?”
>You turn to Minnie quickly.
“When is the board meeting?”
>”At one,” she replies.
“We should go and get ready.”
>”Already?” Octavia says, almost whining.
“I knew you'd like her,” you laugh. “I can go and do my own thing if that's alright with you, Minnie.”
>The mare nods. “Sure. Go have fun. I'll take care of your cellist.”
“You two have fun, alright? I'll see you at the meeting.”
>With a bounce in your step, you head towards the post office.
6/

>At two, you come to the label meeting.
>The board room is larger than the one at Fancy Pants' office.
>You stride in with a cup of coffee and look at the gathered suits.
“Feels like home,” you sigh to yourself with satisfaction.
>”Good afternoon, Anon,” the stallion at the head of the table says, rising from his seat and extending a hoof. “I'm Emerald Sliver, I'm the Chief Operating Officer here.”
>You shake it and look for a seat.
“Nice to meet you. It's good to be here.”
>”Ms. Seventh should be here shortly. Then we can start. Is your client with you?”
“She's on her way. I had to take care of some business.”
>”Well, we can get to know each other while we wait. Are you enjoying the city?”
“Quite a lot. It's a good place.”
>”Not very much like Canterlot, is it?” he chuckles.
“Not at all. It's bigger here. Still a lot going on in the capital, though.”
>”Of course. Minnie tells me your client played the Gala a year or two ago, yes?”
“That's right. And Princess Luna's birthday last year.”
>The stallion raises his eyebrows.
>”Fantastic. Well I can't wait to talk about it, but what about you?”
“What about me?”
>”What's your story? Can't say we're used to seeing fellows like you. Plat, when was the last time we had a minotaur in the office?”
>The stallion he's asking perks up and knots his brow.
>”Four years, I think. The flutist from down south, if I remember right.”
“Well, I'm not a--”
>”Oh, I know, I know. Bipeds, I mean, of course. So how did you come to be doing what you're doing here?”
“I kind of fell into it. Turned out to be a good fit, really. I was just helping out a friend, but it's really turned into something good.”
>”That's a familiar story, believe it or not.”
>There's a knock at the door.
>”That'll be Ms. Seventh, I hope.”
>Octavia walks in accompanied by Minnie.
>”You must be Octavia,” Emerald says.
7/

>Twenty minutes later, introductions and formalities are finally out of the way.
>”...so we'd sign you for a three-year circuit contract, travel and expenses are compensated, we have you touring about three months out of the year. Anon, you will be in charge of booking Octavia's shows and arranging travel and lodging, as you are at present,” one of the stallions drones.
>He's got the most monotone voice you've ever heard.
“Let's talk pay.”
>”Of course. All ticket sales and record royalties are split. A quarter go to the label. Half goes to the road crews, distributors, studio crews, etc. That leaves you twenty five percent to split however you please.”
>You look at Octavia.
>She seems more nervous now than you've seen her before.
>With a reassuring nod, you turn to the stallion.
“How much are you projecting for the record sales?”
>”Well, we'll be covering production costs for the first record. With proper marketing, given your position in Canterlot, we expect a respectable turnout on that front. But that's really just for exposure. The real bits here are from touring, you understand.”
“That's been our experience so far, yes. Can you give me a number?”
>”We can't really be sure of anything until the record hits market, but...” He looks to Emerald, who nods. “...from the demo, we're thinking that a full record coupled with a tour circuit could go gold.”
>Octavia nearly falls out of her chair.
“I'd say she likes what she hears.”
>”Brilliant. We have the contract drawn up here.”
>The contract makes its way around the table to you. It's four pages long and you can feel eyes on you as you scrutinize it.
“Is there a room where I can look at this?”
>”Of course. Head out and talk to my secretary. She'll point you to the room.”
“Thanks. I shouldn't take long.”
8/

>The contract is dense and filled with legal jargon. You read as fast as you can with Octavia looking over your shoulder.
>”What does that word even mean?” she asks, pointing to a jumble of about fourteen letters.
“That one means legal.”
>”Why don't they say that?”
“They're lawyers. I think it's a kind of brain damage.”
>She suppresses a laugh.
>”What do you think of this deal? Only a quarter of the earnings goes to us?”
“That's actually a lot. I've seen deals where the artist only gets six or seven percent. Then again, labels are crooks where I'm from. This is looking like a solid contract, though. I don't see any red flags.”
>You turn to the last page.
“Are you okay with a three-month tour schedule? That's a lot of travel.”
>”Vinyl does it.”
“Vy is Vy. I'm asking you.”
>”This is uncharacteristically serious for you.”
>You ruffle her mane.
“I know a serious time when I see one.”
>She looks at the contract softly.
>”Alright. It sounds good to me. Now let's get this done before my nerves kill me.”
>You pick the papers up and walk to the door.
>All eyes are on Octavia when you return.
>”Everything is in order, I trust?” Emerald asks.
“Yes. My client and I are ready to sign.”
>”Wonderful! I'm really looking forward to working with you!” Minnie cries.
>You put your signature down and slide the contract to Octavia.
>She gives one last glance at you before jotting down her name.
>”Congratulations, Octavia. You've officially made it,” Emerald declares. He gets up and shakes her hoof vigorously. “Anon, you've done a fine job so far. I hope you'll keep it up even now that your cellist has hit the big time!”
“No doubt,” you return. “Now if you'll excuse us?”
>”Of course! We'll be in contact in the next few days. Ms. Seventh has provided your details so you should get a call at your office. Now go and have a good time. You should celebrate!”
>Octavia is shaking with excitement when you walk out onto the street.
9/

>Octavia is shaking with excitement when you walk out onto the street.
>You look at the cellist as a carriage passes by.
>She looks up at you.
>There's a beat.
>And then she launches herself upward, nearly tackling you in the process of latching onto your midsection.
>You grunt, trying to keep your balance while she tightens her grip on you.
“I'm...glad you're...happy...” you wheeze.
>She squeezes tighter.
“L-lungs...collapsing...”
>She squeaks and releases you.
>”Oh! Sorry.”
“No problem.”
>You catch a glimpse of Minnie approaching from the building.
“Just a second. I think our new associate needs something.”
>The recordmare waves you over.
“Something up, Minnie?”
>”No, I just wanted to congratulate you.” She holds up an envelope. “These are for you. They're Clopollo tickets for tonight.”
>You take the tickets and pocket them.
“Thanks. Octy'll love that.”
>”And I'd like to have coffee with you after the show, around ten. There are some things I want to discuss.”
“That shouldn't be a problem.”
>”Alright. Shod and Seventeenth Street's where I'll be.”
“I'll meet you there.”
>You walk back to Octavia waving the envelope.
“Guess who's going to the Clopollo Theater tonight?” you say.
>Her eyes go wide.
>”No...”
>You just point between the two of you.
>Before you can react, she's latched onto you again.
>Minnie giggles behind you.
10/

>The show is great. Octavia is rapt for the entire length  and on the way out of the theater she won't stop gushing about it.
>Stepping onto the street under the bright marquee, you check the time.
>Twenty minutes to get to the cafe.
>”I can't even think straight right now that was so amazing.”
“You know you'll be playing there someday soon.”
>”If I think about it too much I'll have a breakdown,” she responds.
“I told you taking the Ponyville gig would take you places.”
>She notices you looking in the direction of the cafe.
>”When will you be back?”
“Huh?”
>”It was fairly obvious she was asking to meet you tonight. Give me some credit.”
“Probably not late. It's just coffee.”
>”I hope it is. Don't you dare do something to hurt Twilight.” There's a certain sense of worry in her tone.
“It's no problem. I know what I'm doing.”
>”Well go on, then. Don't stay too late. We've got a train in the morning.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
11/

>The cafe on Shod Street is teeming with life when you arrive.
>Minnie sits outside under one of the bright yellow lights. She looks up from the evening paper and waves you to the table.
>”I'm glad you could made it,” she smiles. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“I did. Thanks for the tickets. Tavi loved it.”
>You wave a waiter over and order a coffee.
“So what did you want to talk about?”
>Her face tells you that business isn't what's on her mind.
>She fiddles with her mug.
>”How do I put this?” she starts.
>Oh boy...
>”I picked up on how you were speaking back in Ponyville. I'm fairly certain you meant to do it that way, as well. That seems like you, am I right? Don't play dumb. I'm technically your boss now.” She laughs at her last statement.
“You think I was putting the moves on you back then?”
>”That isn't a denial.”
“Well, I was.”
>”Do you do that often with clients?”
“Only the pretty ones.”
>She does her best to hide her blush.
>You feel a small knot form in the pit of your stomach.
>”I'm flattered. And were you anything other than a client of mine I'm pretty sure that I'd take you up on that implicit offer, Anon.”
>The knot tightens.
>”But,” she says with emphasis. “I'm a professional. If we're going to have a professional working relationship, you'll understand that we can't have a more... physical one. Not in this business.”
>A wave of relief hits you. You bury your confusion.
“I understand.”
>”Don't look so disappointed,” she says. “We'll still be seeing a lot of one another. I just thought it best to clear the air on this before it becomes a problem. I've seen it hurt working relationships before and I certainly don't want it negatively impacting Octavia, as I'm sure you'll agree.”
>You nod and sip your drink, feeling strangely as though you've dodged a bullet.
End