I slammed two notebooks on Bishop’s desk and flipped through the pages, so he could take a good look at how full they were.

- There’s enough material in there for two albums – I sat heavily on the chair and crossed my legs, not minding the upholstery one bit – Or one very long one, but I think two would be more coherent, seeing as one really is a conceptual album. And I’m being very picky.

He blinked at me, not uttering a word, grabbing the first notebook, and scorebook attached. I allowed myself to get lost in a tiny scratch on his table, as he took his time reading through a large chunk of it, sometimes muttering to himself – You’ve been a busy bee, Elz.

I shrugged. I had to. When I was not exhausted, from work and travelling, my mind wandered to where it should not, to where I wanted it not to go. I felt that, if I had any time to think, I would just break down. And no one needed that.

- This is very good. You’ve grown a lot, lyrically, since last time – he closed the book and put it back, careful not to slam it down, like I had done – What do you want? Out with it, missy.

- I want a new van. Ours kept breaking down through Summer. We’re more mechanics than we are musicians, by now. - I had no qualms in going straight to the point. There was no need to beat around the bush with Bishop.

- Well, we all want things in life, don’t we? - he smiled cheekily at me.

- And all expenses paid for our tour of Central Europe.

He just laughed, not believing what he was hearing – You’ve got to be kidding me, doll. You’ve had a very generous new deal, and let me make it very straight to you, that was not an advancement. You got to keep the same insane clauses and you’re asking me for a new van and an all-expenses paid vacation?

I just lifted a shoulder, as carelessly as I could – Don’t expect me to waltz into Warsaw in that old banger. Everyone suffered enough during the Summer in that oven. And – I leaned over – if you were so kind as to show me the insane profit you made from my album, with almost zero work promoting it, I would gladly point it out to you that you owe me. Owe us.

- Nah, nah! - he lifted a finger, menacingly – We did our part of the distribution and…

- And show me the promotion your lovely label did, apart from the launch party – I cut him off. I knew he had nothing on his side. I had done my homework – The sales came solely from our hard work, not yours, my dearest Johnny.

He let out a dismissive breath – You were lucky.

- Lucky? - I took the notebooks back – Have you any idea of how many days we’ve worked, these past few months?

He nodded – I do.

- I can guarantee you will have the album by year’s end. But I want my perks.

- By year’s end? - he chuckled, mockingly – We’re just in the early days of September, love.

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I looked him straight in the eyes, as I got up – You may know how many days we’ve worked, on record. What you don’t know, darling Johnny, is that this – I showed him the notebooks again. They were my greatest weapon for this battle – has been through all the work it needed and we’re ready to go in the studio.

- You’re shitting me – he narrowed his eyes.

- This is my work. I don’t play around with it.

He measured me for a second, deciding if he could trust what I was saying, and then put his interlaced fingers behind his head, leaning back on the chair. I’d seen this strategy before, he was about to launch his counter-offer.

- I’ll get you a van and you’ll have the studio ready as soon as you get back. But I won’t pay for the tour’s expenses.

- Either I get it all, or you can put that spot in the studio at someone else’s disposal. Next year sounds as good as this one.

- Fuck it, El!

- It’s your call, my dear – I grinned. His proverbial Queen was trapped.

He took a very deep breath and sighed very audibly – Is there any battle with you that I can effectively win?

- A black van – I smiled.

He just shrugged and threw his hands in the air – Fine! But mind my bloody money in Germany, or wherever the fuck you’re going.

I put the notebooks back in my bag and took out an A4 piece of paper that I unfolded – By the way, my boys need new gear. They’ve made you a list – I set the paper on the table.

- No!

I sang If it happens again I’m leaving, I’ll pack my things and go… as I left his office. He was a tough cookie, but so was I.

The tour was as smooth as one may wish for and we even managed to play a free-for-all gig, after some back and forth with Szczecin’s City Hall. I had wanted the free gig to be in Germany, but Hell knows there are few things more convoluted than German bureaucracy, and so we had to think outside the box, and find a large-ish city that was no more than 3 hours away from Berlin, that just happened to be in across the border, in Poland.

That show cost us a day we could have been resting, but it paid tenfold as the album just soared to the tops of the charts. Every inch of remorse I might have had for the demands I had laid upon Bishop, was now gone.

I gave some interviews to local media and, honestly, whatever Firefly had spent on us, they sure did get their return, I just had to take a look at the checks I got and calculate the company’s percentage.

We had a new van, my debts were settled, the Hall’s roof was now fixed and ready for whatever Winter could bring and I should be happy.

Should is, of course, different from was, because I looked around and all I saw was an empty life. Peter was up in Scotland, enjoying his first year in Uni, as well as he should, my family was all the way across the world, living their lives, as well as they should… And I just stood, in the midst of the hollow house that had become mine, with only the occasional shadow of Collins or Edgar. Everything else around me felt like a cemetery and every time I was alone, the ghosts came back to haunt and taunt. They pulled at me, trying to get me under and every day I just tried harder and harder to bury it all, to hide the shame.

And so, I did what I’ve always done best: I fled. This time, to my music wonderland, where everything was sound and every single tune was worthy of being explored. And so I wrote and I wrote and I wrote… Some things were good, some so and so and some, well, some will never see the light of day ever again, my little deformed creepies in the basement.

We worked on Eris for less than a month, as we had most of it set up already and, for us, it was perfect the way it was. And so, December was another month filled with promotion and pictures and meetings and everything else in between.

Bishop had been working hard in the background while we were away and then in the studio, to get the album out as fast as humanly possible. Under different circumstances, I would say it all had been too rushed, but at the time, it felt like the right thing to do.

It was also then that Bishop introduced me to Marla, who he claimed was a wonderful agent who could help me out. It was also when Holly Kingsley came to work with me as a PA, because my mind was such a mess that I was already tending to get lost amidst all the commitments.

Holly was Heaven-sent. Marla… Well, Marla was Marla.