Derpy's mind whirled as she walked toward Vinyl's home. Her management class had really worn her out and she needed to get ready for work. Thankfully, the walk was short, but she found the mailbox crammed full of mail from over the weekend, again. No matter how many times she'd reminded her, Derpy’s roommate, Vinyl Scratch, was not too keen on keeping an eye on the mail.

Walking inside with mail held in her wing, Derpy found her daughter at the living room table drawing in her crayon book.

“Hi mommy!” Dinky said around the crayon in her mouth.

“Hey, sweetie.” Derpy smiled, going through the mail she grabbed earlier.

Shuffling through the usual bills and junk mail, she noticed an actual letter addressed to Vinyl. Seeing the return address she put the other mail to the side, opening the envelope and taking a quick glance at the letter, her eyes widening at what was before her.

“Dinky, where’s Vinyl?”

“She’s upstairs making the musics!”

Rushing upstairs to the second floor, Derpy ran to the back hall and knocked on Vinyl’s bedroom door.

“Vinyl! You need to see this!” Derpy yelled.

Getting no response, she immediately opened the door to see Vinyl hunched over her workstation with her headphones on, producing music. A lit cigarette dangled from her mouth, a nearby window opened to allow the smoke to escape.

As she heard the door open, Vinyl groaned.

“Working here. What?” Vinyl said, looking over her shoulder. “Oh, sorry Derpy. I was just in the middle of laying a track down. What’s up?”

“One of the record labels that we sent our sample cassette to replied back. They want more!”

Vinyl’s ears perked up and she immediately snatched the letter from Derpy’s hoof, quickly reading it over. She skipped over the fancy talk and the main details, her eye drawn to the name of the record label.

“Manehattan Records?”

“That’s them! One of the top record labels in Equestria.”

“And they wanted more songs in the style of my track…” Vinyl paused, unsure how to feel about their choice. “Wub Bomb.” She sighed—one of her many experimental tracks. “Honestly, I pounded that one out late one night just for fun; not sure what they see in it that I don’t.”

“Who cares which song they were impressed by? It’s still your work they're excited about. This is our foot in the door!”

“I care. As great as this is, I want to make my music my way. I want to be an artist, not just someone who takes orders, you know?”

Derpy rolled her eyes. “Vinyl, if you want to work in the music industry, you're going to have bosses. You're going to have to follow someone else’s rules.”

“But that’s why I have you.” Vinyl snickered. “I think I could handle orders from you. But really, I think we should see who else makes us an offer.”

“But there’s no harm in saying yes just for now. Let them know we're still keeping our options open, but if the offer’s right…” Derpy shrugged. “Manehattan Records are the biggest game in town. In Equestria. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and we shouldn't pass it up.”

Vinyl sighed. This was a step in the right direction, but going with the first label that accepted them rather than waiting to see if others responded seemed… reckless. Perhaps Derpy was just overeager. Then again, she always knew best.

“Yeah, I guess you're right. No harm in saying yes for now, right?”

Bleary-eyed, Vinyl stared at the calendar on the wall of the small apartment studio. It couldn't be right. Vinyl groaned and let his head hit the desk with a thud. A whole week had gone by and all he had to show for it was a few bars and a mountain of balled-up sheet music. Before, he could churn out two whole albums in that time with ease. This time he wanted to do something different, but inspiration just wasn't coming. With nothing coming to mind, he lit a cigarette inside the studio.

As small puffs of smoke spread around the room, he got up from his chair and went over to a shelf containing his recent recordings, then picked up a cassette.

Sitting back down at his workstation, he popped the tape into a cassette player and pressed play. The cassette started out with white noise, but soon started playing the piano track he'd recorded earlier that week.

Vinyl leaned back in his chair, smoking his cigarette while listening to the track. It reminded him of when it was fun composing music for himself and playing at his favorite venues. The record label he worked for did help him to get where he was today, but listening to his old work made him not care much for his current success.

While the music soothed Vinyl for a short while, the door to the studio burst open with such force that Vinyl fell out of his chair. A bit flustered, he got up and saw Octavia at the doorway.

“Vinyl! Are you smoking in our apartment!?” she yelled, enraged Vinyl would expose the apartment to the smell of tobacco.

“M-maybe….” Vinyl quickly took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it out in an ashtray. “Sorry hon, I’ve just been stressed these past few days getting something done.”

“Is this what you are going to submit to your label?” Octavia asked, her tone softening. She pointed to the speaker.

The music still playing in the studio had attracted Octavia in the first place, though the smell had irked her. Compared to Vinyl’s other... songs, this was surprisingly quite tolerable, even verging on pleasant.

“Oh, um… Yeah! Just a new style I'm trying out.” Vinyl forced a smile. He didn't like lying to Octavia, but this newfound good mood was keeping her from chewing him out.

Besides, who'd want to be stuck being married to a fraud who couldn't write a single new song?

“It’s... piano? You never told me you were a pianist, Vinyl.” Octavia smiled.

“Yeah, I learned a little bit. Back when I was younger.”

“It’s lovely, but…” Octavia frowned. “I thought you said your label was forcing you to stick with the same style. Will they really take this?”

"O-of course they will, Octavia," Vinyl crowed, avoiding Octavia’s eyes. "Don't forget—you are marrying a talented musician!”

"Of course. How could I ever forget." Octavia rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help smiling a little.

Yet, at the back of her mind, the nagging little doubt refused to go away. There’s something you're not telling me, Vinyl. Why?

She tried to silence it internally, but eventually ended up asking, “So, everything’s fine, then?”

“That’s what I just said,” Vinyl said flatly, looking back at his desk.

Whatever it was, trying to drag it out of Vinyl would only lead to him getting mad at her for not believing him. Octavia turned to leave for the bedroom.

“Don't stay up too late, hon,” she called from the doorway.

“I'm actually wrapping up. I’ll be in bed soon.”

“All right, hon.”

After Octavia walked out, Vinyl stayed in the studio until the tape was over. He popped it out of the cassette player, placed it in an individual case, and then went to join his fiancée in bed.

Showered and ready for the day, Vinyl rested his elbows on the kitchen table as he drank his morning coffee. A few droplets still clung to his mane, which reeked of chemical spray. Octavia spread a pad of butter across a rapidly warming frying pan.

“So, today’s the day?” Octavia asked. Cracking two eggs, she poured their contents into the frying pan. They sizzled pleasantly.

“Yeah, Derpy and I have to go meet with executives and demo my new work for the next album. Hopefully it won't take long.”

“Mmm, can you pop the bread into the toaster, Vinyl?” Octavia looked like she was nearly done.

“Sure.” Vinyl went over to the toaster and popped the bread down.

“Are you nervous?”

Nervous would be better, Vinyl thought. I'm already hoping that they won't notice or won't care about all the changes I'm going through, but disobeying them on top of that? What will they say? What will Derpy say?

“Always am. When your future depends on what other ponies think of your work, you can't afford not to be, you know? I'm sure it’s the same when you play.”

“Yeah.” Octavia nodded, the toast popped from the toaster, catching them in midair, she spread butter across both slices, then placed an egg atop each.

After serving Vinyl at the table, she sat down across from him as both of them partook in the simple but enjoyable breakfast.

“Will you be out long?” Octavia asked.

“Hopefully only until the early afternoon. Vinyl quickly ate his breakfast and got up, putting on his jacket. “I do need to go though, I’ll see—”

“Vinyl?”

“Yeah?” He stopped, focusing his attention to Octavia.

“Whatever happens,” she paused, fidgeting her hooves. “I love you, and will always stick with you.” She smiled.

“I love you too, Tavi.” He smiled back. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Outside Manehattan, it was the same as other days. Most ponies kept to themselves, walking by while traffic sped past. Once he left the apartment building, Vinyl walked to the curb and raised his hoof to the traffic.

“Taxi!”

Immediately, a taxi buggy pulled to the side near Vinyl. As he climbed into the coach, the driver of the buggy turned his head.

“Where to, buddy?”

“I need to pick up a friend at the downtown apartments, then head to the Manehattan Records building.” Vinyl pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “Is it all right if I smoke in here?”

“Depends. You got a spare smoke?”

Deftly levitating two cigarettes from his pack, Vinyl lit them and passed one to the driver. “I can spare another one at Manehatten Records. My fiancée wants me off these things anyway.”

“Heh, thanks bud. Most passengers tend to ignore me, but you seem like an all right stallion.” The driver put the cigarette in his mouth. “Next stop, Downtown Manehattan apartments.” The driver then began running, taking the buggy at a decent speed around town.

Throughout the ride, Vinyl kept to himself. He stared at the ponies passing by, thinking back to what Octavia said to him earlier that morning, and how she loved him no matter what. It made him feel a bit better, in spite of not knowing how today was going to go.

“We’re here,” the taxi driver said, stopping in front of a large apartment building.

Vinyl looked at the front of the building and saw Derpy waiting outside, wearing a mare’s suit by Pommel with an open white collar and a miniskirt that failed to cover her blonde tail. Her mane was swept back into a bun, but her bangs still hung down on over her eyes. A light dusting of foundation and some mascara completed her professional businessmare look.

He waved at Derpy, who took immediate notice, walking into the carriage and sitting next to him.

“Next stop, Manehattan records,” the driver said, speeding off again.

“So, ready for the big day today?” Derpy asked.

“For the most part.” Vinyl shrugged.

“Vinyl, please tell me you are one-hundred-percent ready today. I already came up with an explanation for your hair. If there is anything else I need to know, then please let me know now.”

Vinyl grumbled. “Yes, mom.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you, you know!” Derpy scoffed. “I know it feels like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders because you’re the artist, but my job’s not easy either. Just throw me a bone here; if there’s something coming, I need to know what.”

“I don't have a tape as requested.” Vinyl paused. “I just can’t keep making the kind of music that the label wants.”

Derpy groaned, holding her head in her hooves. “Vinyl, I can’t do my job if you can’t do yours.”

“It’s not like I’m coming to them empty-hooved. I have a plan.”

“You have a plan? I don’t think I can sell them on just a plan.”

Derpy was even more confused now. Before, he was able to pull off two albums within a few years, and now he was not able to make a single track? Something was definitely up.

Vinyl stared at the pavement as it crunched under the carriage’s wheels. “Just be sure to handle the image problems. I’ll handle the music. If you need an excuse, just say I am working on something experimental.”

“But we were told—”

“I know!” Vinyl yelled, making not only Derpy jump, but also the driver, who raised a concerned eyebrow at him.

Vinyl sighed. He had to calm down the situation. “Look, let’s just get through this meeting and we’ll see what we can do.”

“All right.” Derpy sighed. Today was not going to be easy.

Vinyl and Derpy spent the rest of the ride in silence, Vinyl humming to himself while Derpy kept her eyes closed, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths. It wasn’t their first argument and it most likely wouldn’t be the only one today, but she had to remain cool. Both of their livelihoods were riding on today.

After a few minutes, the driver stopped at a large building.

“Manehattan Records,” the driver said with none of his prior enthusiasm.

Derpy stepped off first while Vinyl pulled out his wallet and gave the driver a few bits and an extra cigarette.

“Um, sorry for earlier. We just… it happens sometimes.” Vinyl truly did feel bad for having the driver see them argue.

“Eh, I’ve seen and heard a lot worse. Best of luck to you two. And thanks for the smoke.”

“No prob.”

Vinyl shortly caught up with Derpy, who was waiting at the far end of the massive lobby by the main elevator. One of the doors opened. They stepped in and began to go up.

“Well, at least we are on time,” she said, checking her watch.

“Hopefully this meeting won’t take as long as the last one. I can’t sit around for more than an hour.” Vinyl fidgeted with his cigarette pack, flipping the lid open and closed.

“Be patient. Since we have nothing to show, we should be in and out pretty quick. Just hopefully not out on our asses."

“Right…”

The elevator doors opened up to a big open room. On display were various gold records, memorabilia, and large photos. At the end of the room was a large desk with a receptionist typing away on her typewriter in front of two large doors.

“DJ-PON3 and Derpy Hooves?” The receptionist lifted her head, adjusting her glasses.

“That’s us. We are here to see Mr. Price to present DJ-PON3’s demo,” Derpy said, talking for Vinyl.

“Of course. Unfortunately, Mr. Price is not in today, but Mr. Rich has expressed an interest in listening. He is waiting for you in the executive’s room.” As soon as she finished speaking, the receptionist returned to her typing.

“Wait? Mr Rich?! The CEO?!” Derpy gasped.

Of all the days to stick his nose in their business, why did he have to pick today? Wasn't there a golf tournament or a charity auction he should be at?

“Derpy, calm down.” Vinyl put his hoof on Derpy’s shoulder. “We stick with the same plan.”

“Um… right. It'll all be fine...” She sighed and straightened herself out. “Let’s go.”

Derpy led the way in front of Vinyl. Opening the large doors behind the receptionist revealed another large, dark room. More hallway than room, its centerpiece was a broad hardwood table that seemed to stretch out to the horizon, each side lined with imperial high-backed chairs. Mounted on the wall behind each glittered a gold casting of the label’s most popular albums. At the far end of the room, a lone stallion in a deep-crimson suit sat and perused a thick black binder.

“Welcome, Ms. Hooves. You’re looking lovely, as always,” Mr. Rich said with practiced warmth and a sharp smile. “PON-3.” He nodded. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Derpy sat down next to Vinyl.

Mr. Rich licked his hoof and turned a page in his binder.

Derpy took it upon herself to break the silence. “Um, we didn't expect to have a meeting with you today. Not that it’s a bad surprise,” she added hastily. “We just thought Mr. Price was going to be here. Because, you know, we made the appointment with him, and…”

Derpy trailed off and Mr. Rich waved his hoof dismissively. “Well, things change quickly at the top, Ms. Hooves. Mr. Price was called away unexpectedly, so I was happy to fill in. You know I’m interested in your success.”

Mr. Rich smiled, but his enthusiasm faded as he looked at Vinyl. “I see your client has gone so far as to change her appearance. I thought you said you were going to keep this under control. Keep them from doing anything that would alarm the public regarding her… issues?”

Derpy’s stomach dropped. An uncomfortable, acidic emptiness filled her body in its place. Although she knew she couldn't bear to look, she found her head turning toward Vinyl of its own accord. Oh please oh please oh shit oh please… She pleaded internally that, by some miracle, Vinyl wasn't paying attention or somehow missed what Mr. Rich had implied.

His dropped jaw and ragged breathing proved that he hadn’t.

“You what?”

Derpy cringed, shooting Vinyl her best apologetic look before turning to answer Filthy Rich.

“Um, yes. Well, he did it by his own choice when I was not around.” Derpy suddenly found the floor to be extremely interesting. Her ears burned and she could feel Vinyl’s stare boring into her. Those eyes told her they'd be exchanging some very heated words as soon as Mr. Rich was gone.

“I'm so sorry,” she mouthed to Vinyl.

If he understood, he gave no sign.

Filthy Rich cleared his throat. “At the moment, we are looking to bring in an outside consultant to accommodate your client’s… new look. But first things first. I was told you have a sample of your upcoming work?”

Derpy took a deep breath and swallowed hard before speaking. “We do, Mr. Rich, but it might not exactly fit what was requested...”

“I have to say I'm disappointed, though I'm also curious. I have copies of all relevant documents right here,” Mr. Rich said, tapping on his binder, “and the instructions given to both of you were quite clear. Was there anything that you did not understand?”

“No, sir.”

“So then, am I to take it that this is deliberate disobedience?”

“N-no!” Derpy squealed. “It’s just that right now he’s working on some experimental music and even though it’s different it’s really good and—um…”

Derpy froze. Mr. Rich shook his head slowly.

“Ms. Hooves? Is your client going to—”

“No.” Vinyl interrupted the two.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Rich raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not making that kind of music anymore. I’ve done it and done it for years, and I just can’t go on doing it. I’ve already made this label more money than you could ever spend. Isn't it about time you let me go in my own direction?” Vinyl stood up from his chair.

Mr. Rich closed his binder and took a deep breath. “So, you think we're being unfair, do you? And you think that you can use your earnings as leverage against us to get what you want?”

Mr. Rich lit a cigarette. “I hate to break it to you, but this label wasn't built on your shoulders. Atlas can shrug here. As a matter of fact, I could throw you out on the street right now, go home, and sleep like a baby. Naturally, I don't want to do that, because I hate wasting good potential, but I must advise you to understand your place here and be a team player.”

At the mention of getting thrown out, all the blood drained from Derpy’s face. She gestured at Vinyl to stop. “Mr. Rich, could we have a mo—”

But Vinyl would not be stopped.

“So what? I don't get to make what I want to make even though you're the one who’s paying me to be creative?” Vinyl thought to himself, Was any of this worth it?

“It’s not that I don't understand your whole personal artistic quest, Ms. Scratch. The problem is that, well, to put it bluntly, your fans are idiots who won't understand it. While it’s important to you, this journey of musical self-discovery is a financial liability. We have an image to maintain here, and Manehattan Records is not going to put out a flop just because one of their artists threw a hissy fit.”

“Fine. I quit.”

Derpy’s jaw dropped. “Vinyl!” Her eyes darted back and forth between Vinyl and Mr. Rich as her heart pounded in her chest.

Mr. Rich’s eyes flared behind the smoke, but when he spoke, it was with practiced calm. “As I said, I hate wasting potential. Are you sure that this is what you want to do?”

“No, he’s not sure!” Derpy yelled. “He—he’s not thinking straight right now. Everything I was reporting to you…” Derpy struggled to find the right words. “He didn't know…”

“Well, well...” Mr. Rich stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You two do have a lot to talk about. Take your time.”

Derpy grabbed Vinyl by the collar of his jacket and pulled him outside to the reception area. A sticky note taped to the receptionist’s desk said she was on her lunch break, so Vinyl and Derpy were alone.

“Vinyl! What do you think you're doing? Are you trying to dismantle everything we worked so hard for these past few years?!”

Derpy still couldn't believe what Vinyl did. She helped him get to this point, and in the span of a few minutes, he was going to throw it all away.

“Right, you're the one who gets to be mad at me. Why are you talking to the executives behind my back? I trusted you! I opened up to you about stuff I couldn't even tell Octavia about! How long have they known about… about me?!”

“Vinyl, this is my job. I’m your friend, but I also have to manage everything you do, all of your press, and deal with all of the stress and the bookings and the money, and I also have to make sure you're fit to perform. You're my best friend, but this job is how I make sure my daughter can eat every day, and if that means that I have to tell the bosses about you without your permission, then I am sorry, but I am going to do what it takes to give Dinky the happy childhood that I never had!”

Derpy was only dimly aware that she was yelling. It hurt seeing Vinyl so upset, but what else could she do?

“I…” Vinyl stammered, then grunted as he changed the subject. “If stabbing your friends in the back is what it takes to earn a gold star here, then we shouldn't stick around. There has to be someone else we can work for. The independent labels—”

“—Can't even come close to matching our current salaries,” Derpy finished for him. “Are you aware that if we leave this company, we will lose all of our benefits? That fancy equipment you love so much? Our health insurance? Do you have any idea how expensive you are to insure? Even our homes! Everything that they've given us, they can take away!”

Vinyl tried to mentally calculate how much Octavia brought in as a session cellist. Not enough to keep living in the city she loved.

He wanted to scream. To hit Filthy Rich right in his smug face. To hit himself. But neither of those would solve anything. Neither he nor Octavia could support themselves in Manehattan without him suffering under Filthy Rich. They would have to start over again.

“Derpy, I hate it here. I thought that if I just stuck with it for a while, I could finally convince them to let me make my own way. But it’s just not going to happen.” Vinyl sat in the middle of the lobby, shivering. “They can take it all away from me if they want; I hope they choke. It’s not worth it. This is killing me, and I can't take it anymore.”

“So… that’s it?” Derpy’s tears stung as they fell onto her hot cheeks. “All that we did to get here, and you're just going to leave?”

“…Yeah.”

“Fine. Just go. I hope your fiancée feels the same way when she hears she’s losing her home.”

“Derpy…” Vinyl reached out to one of Derpy’s shoulders.

She slapped his hoof away from her.

“Go!” Derpy yelled. “Please just go. I can't talk to you right now.”

Vinyl was taken by surprise by Derpy’s anger. He had seen her angry before, but seeing the tears roll down her face truly made him feel guilty.

He turned around and walked to the other end of the hall. Before he went into the elevator, he turned and faced Derpy.

“…If I am not in town by next week, you know where I'll be.”

With that, he took the elevator and left Derpy behind.

She wiped the tears from her face. Her mascara smudged across her cheeks, but she didn’t care.

“I had a feeling she'd be a troublesome client,” someone said behind her. “Are you okay?”

Turning around, Derpy saw Mr. Rich standing in the doorway.

“Oh, Mister Rich. I didn't realize you were there.”

“I don't mean to pry, but I couldn't help but overhear.”

Derpy looked down at herself. She was an absolute mess. “I’m sorry, sir. That was...” She choked down a lingering whimper. “Very unprofessional of me.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Mr. Rich said, offering her his kerchief.

Derpy wiped her face clean.

“Vinyl Scratch is a tough one to handle. However, Ms. Hooves, you have always been an excellent employee in my eyes. Come on in,” he said, taking a step back and opening the door all the way. “We still have some business to discuss.”

“I'm not being fired?”

“Perish the thought. We have plenty of other clients in need of a manager of your… caliber.” Mr. Rich smiled, shutting the door behind Derpy as she followed him inside.

“Are you familiar with a Mr. Neon Lights?”

It was done. The last rope tying Vinyl to his old identity had been cut. As heavy as the regret weighed on his heart, he couldn't help but feel newfound lightness in his feet. The only worry on his mind now was what to say to Octavia—not to mention moving plans, since the label did provide him with the apartment and a majority of his production equipment.

Vinyl lit a cigarette and walked back to the apartment. The noise of the city all blended together in an irritating buzz and his headphones hung uselessly around his neck. The only music he heard was “What am I going to tell Octavia?” on endless repeat.

After an hour of walking and taking a small break at a local café, he returned to the apartment building.

Vinyl sighed. There was no way around it. He had to tell Octavia while there was still time to prepare for the inevitable.

Vinyl couldn't stop tapping his hoof as he took the elevator up to his apartment, walking inside slowly.

Octavia ran up to Vinyl, kissing him on the cheek. “That was quick. How did it go?” she asked with a smile.

As much as Vinyl wanted to smile back and tell her that everything was okay, he couldn’t.

“Tavi, we need to talk…”