Sunday, July 3rd, 1983

The studio lounge smelled of hairspray, cigarettes, whiskey, and an old dust that never seemed to settle. Aurelia was warm, and strange to you. It felt like stepping through the wrong door, or falling down the wrong hole, Alice-in-Wonderland style.

"We need a manager, someone with a good head and who isn't afraid of work. You came in mind." Harlan Lock's voice rang in your ear. Your childhood friend. Damn, you hadn't talked to him since high-school. That had to be nearing four years now. Oh, but you'd seen Harlan. You'd heard him. He was the bassist in the band Eros in Mourning, a rock band that was on the rise to fame. Radios played songs, interviews were made- everyone wanted their slice of these five fellas with this enchanting aura. Harlan hardly looked like Harlan anymore- more eye liner and paler.

"Manager left one night. Up and gone. The job's yours if you'll take it. One way ticket to Aurelia, if you fancy it. Big house. Big band. Big gigs...think on it."

You had, and that's why you were here, at Eros in Mourning's studio. The aura of the place had you more on edge, it felt so wrong, like the bite of a strong liquor in a fruity drink. The red of the walls covered in posters and records and photos made you wonder how a band was able to reach stardom so quickly. Four years ago they were nothing. Four years later, the world was obsessed. Why would a manager like Jeremy Cardwell up and leave such an opportunity, for success, you had to wonder? Nobody like that would ditch as they struck gold.

Stepping down the hall, you see him. Splayed against one of the velvet seats like we was poured there wasthe lead singer of Eros in Mourning, Valentine Arryne. Crimson locks flowed down his shoulders in curly, lazy perfection. Silver eyes like mirrors scanned you over in feline grace as a smile peirced through his crimson-stained lips. A cigarette is layed between his sharp nails, twin in color to his lips.

"You must be our new manager...? Your name is...remind me again...Harlan said it..."

You feel his voice before you see it. Honeyed and velvety warm. A glass of red wine sits in the table infront of him, the only company in this room, besides now...you.