Chris was buried in some paperwork in the room under the loft, which they had turned into a study. In the corner of her eye she noticed Daniel pacing to and fro in the living room. He was holding the business card and occasionally stopped and looked at it, only to start pacing again. After five minutes of trying to concentrate, she gave up and walked up to her husband.

"Are you planning to make a hole in the floor? Why don't call him at the pub?"

Daniel sighed.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Not to an outsider perhaps," she answered and saw his tension ease up a bit as she smiled.

"You think I should call him?"

"Of course I do! Don't you realize this is the chance of a lifetime? What are the odds of someone with connections in the music business ending up here?"

"Yeah, but where will this chance of a lifetime get me? Maybe he hates my music?"

"So what? Maybe he loves it? There's only one way to find out," she said and handed him the phone.

Daniel took it and dialed the number to the pub.

An hour and a half later, he was just finished playing the last of his songs to Herb. The man hadn't said a word during his little performance, so Daniel felt the need to break the silence.

"I know it's not much..."

Herb just waved with his arm to stop him, and stroked his heavy mustache with his other hand as if he was thinking hard on some problem.

"I'm going to be honest with you," he said after many seconds of silence. "Acoustic guitar is not even close to being hip to the kids. It's all about them..." Herb snapped his fingers as he was looking for the right word. "Synthesizers! But should it come to a record deal, the producer will handle all that. Now, as far as the lyrics goes, they're too depressing. No one wants to listen to pop songs about death and that kind of stuff, it's not radio friendly. And your hair is too short, but that will be fixed given enough time. But you've got this raw talent, that we could build on. I want you to come with me to Sydney tomorrow. I'll set up a meeting with a few people and you will play your songs to them. How does that sound?"

"So, uh, you like the songs?" Daniel said in disbelief.

"You've got what we in the business call 'something'. That undefinable charisma that makes a good artist, even if you are too modest and shy for your own good. And you write good music, even if it is depressing. Shall I book you on the plane to Broken Hill, and then further to Sydney?"

"I don't know, it's all happening very fast."

"That's the way it goes," Herb said.

"I'll have to talk to Chris."

"You do that and let me know straight away. I suspect I've got some phone calls to make," said Herb with a smile.

Driving back home from the pub Daniel's head was spinning and he bit his lower lip. He didn't want to get any hopes up, but still... Maybe? Singing and playing the guitar was something he had always loved to do. But to do it professionally, in front of a crowd that wasn't just a pub full of friends and people he knew, that was a different matter.

"Of course you should do it," Chris said calmly when he had told her about the meeting at the pub. Daniel was sitting in the couch, his left leg was bouncing up and down, as if to channelize some of the stress.

"What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"I sit there and play my music and they hate it."

"So what if they hate it? Does it really matter what a bunch of people you don't even know, think of your music?"

"I would feel like a failure."

"But you're not a failure, you've been given this incredible opportunity, and it would be crazy not to even at least give it a try. I think you should call Herb and tell him you want to go to Sydney with him. If they hate the songs, fine, but if they like them who knows where it'll lead you? In short, you have nothing to lose."

As so many times before she had made him see the more positive side of things. Daniel chewed on his lower lip and gave Chris an insecure look, and she nodded encouragingly. He reached for the phone and for the second time that day dialed the number to the pub.

It all happened so fast, Daniel could hardly wrap his brain around it, when the taxi stopped in front of an enormous building in Sydney.

"This... Is Rocket Records," Herb gestured towards a sky-scraper. They went inside and Herb led him straight to the elevators, and up they went. Daniel was carrying his guitar in an old and worn guitar case. He was constantly shifting his weight on his feet from the heel to the front of the feet and back again.

"Would you calm down a bit?" Herb said and led him out of the elevator. "It'll be a breeze for you, just let me do the talking," he said and opened a double-door. Inside it seemed to Daniel that a board meeting was going on. There were four men sitting at the curve of a horseshoe-shaped table. They were all wearing fancy suits and ties, and Daniel felt very awkward, wearing only jeans and a t-shirt.

"Herb! Almost on time, as usual," one of the men rose and smiled.

"Ah, uh, the traffic was awful!" Herb smiled nervously and went up and shook his hand. "Daniel, this is Mr. Jamison, Mr. Becker, Mr Sutton and Mr. Newton."

Daniel insecurely raised a hand and said "Hi". He had remained by the door while Herb was talking to Mr Jamison.

"Is this the great talent you were talking about?" Jamison said low. "Not much self confidence there."

"Just wait 'til you hear him sing," Herb whispered back. Jamison sat down again. Herb sat on the table.

"Pull up a chair if you will, and let us hear what you have," Jamison said.

Daniel did so, and sat down with his guitar.

"What kind of music do you play Mr. Wellings?"

"Uh, I don't really know how to label it..."

"He plays pop." Herb said.

"Ok, you may start."

In lightning speed, Daniel racked his brain to come up with a good song to play, wishing he had been more prepared, but the only lyrics that would come up was to an old song that he called "The grim reaper", so he started to play that. But just as he was finished with the chorus of the song, Mr. Jamison held up a hand.

"Thank you," he said.

"He doesn't look happy," Daniel thought. Jamison looked at him as if measuring him, and he did his best not to look away. Herb felt his superiors were not satisfied with the performance, and he tried to salvage the situation.

"Daniel, won't you play "Precious", for us?"

He nodded and started to strum the guitar again. Playing that song brought an image of Chris to his mind, and unknowingly he smiled. This time they let him finish the song, and as he looked up he thought he could see hint of smiles on their faces. At least Herb was smiling from ear to ear.

"Do you have any other songs like this one? I mean more uplifting?"

"No, not really, this is the only one I've written since I got married."

"So you're married?"

"Yes sir."

"Could you give us a few minutes, Mr. Wellings?"

"Of course," he got up from the chair and limped off through the door.

"You too Herb," Jamison said. Herb gave him a surprised look but then lumbered after Daniel.

Daniel let out a loud exhale, but the lump in the pit of his stomach would not go away so easily. He wished for a cigarette.

"Don't look like that, you did great!" Herb said.

"Then why didn't they tell me that?"

"Oh, you know, the have to confer with each other and all that. Don't worry!" Herb said a little more enthusiastic than he really was. It hadn't started that great with Daniel playing one of his more sad songs, but fortunately, he got the chance to play "Precious".

After an ocean of time had passed by it seemed to Daniel, they got called back in to the conference room by Mr. Sutton.

"Can you write more songs like the last one you did? Precious, or what you called it? More ballads? And catchy pop tunes?" Jamison said.

"I suppose I could try, I haven't really..."

"Splendid, then we'll see you back here in three weeks and hear what you've got, yes?"

"Ok."

"Congratulations!" Herb said and gave him a pat on the arm.
"So what does this mean? Do I've got a record deal or something?" Daniel asked Herb in the elevator.
"Calm down a bit, they liked you and want to hear what you're capable of."

"But they..."

"Songs like the first one doesn't sell! They should be ballads like "Precious" or catchy pop songs. You heard him. The things about death and... That stuff... Kids want happy pop songs with lyrics of love, so that they forget about their dull lives for a while. And with the inspiration you have in your wife it shouldn't be too hard to write those," Herb laughed at his own joke.
Daniel got into a cab that would take him to the airport.
"See you in three weeks!" Herb called out over the roaring traffic.