The door opened to a lavish suite in Puerto Vallerta doubling the volume of a righteous falsetto, “ Rock up brother yeah, a rock opera is on! It’s totally not out of style and we’re gonna get it ON!” Kenny Lucius grooved around the kitchen island while an automatic espresso machine whirred on the counter. Six empty, stained cups lay across the counter. An open journal filled with frantic scribbles and ink drops lay beside the cups.

“Please don’t tell me this is what you’ve come up with after thirty seven weeks of company financed sabbatical,” a prim faced company suit said running his finger across the grimy counter. His frown deepened.

“…”

“God damn it, Lucius.”

“Rock opera, yeah!”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“You can’t put a price on genius. And this musical will go on!”

“You absolutely can. Your luxury resort staycation that’s apparently all for not totaled seven hundred thousand dollars.”

“I said, ‘you can’t put prize on genius,” but that figure seems pretty high! Didn’t they say it was all inclusive? I’m pretty I read that somewhere,” Lucius sang brokenly as his confidence deflated.

“You probably read a pamphlet for the Rio Grande next door. That’s a service offered there. Not here.”

“… I did eat a lot of caviar. Not for the taste, but for the novelty. I tried to pair it with crème fraiche, but you can’t any in part of town. Or maybe I don’t actually know what dairy byproduct is used along with caviar. Help me out, Marcus. Lend me that sweet, sweet soprano and take it away.”

“You’ve completely the company. And they’ll squeeze your blood and balls out before you get away without paying. So drop the damn rock opera and give us them some real songs.”

“Do it with the soprano the whole way through. You know you want to be a star,” he said eyes shining bright. “A star,” he mouthed as he stretched across the island for another espresso.