“What did Mr Gucci want?” She says referring to Jonathan or John as he prefers to be called. I laugh at her nickname. Mr Gucci. It’s very fitting to him and it has a nice to ring to it. Mr Gucci you’re everything that I am trying to avoid.
Two
The next morning I wake to a buzzing headache. It was late when Sydney and I got home last night, and we did drink a few too many beers. I crashed on my bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned all night with images of Mr Phillips and Mr Gucci rushing through my head. I can’t believe that I have a meeting today with the CEO of BeatBox records. I never expected anyone of those music moguls to like me. But one did and I am really faltered and excited about today. My looming meeting has consumed most of my thoughts but every now again; a thought of Mr Gucci enters my head. I am used to guys hitting on me, but there was something about that guy which was different. He wasn’t like any other guy that I have seen before. He was really beautiful and his fashion sense was out of this world. He was tempting and alluring. I had to fight every bone in my body to refuse that drink. The Ashley, who lived in Dallas a year ago, wouldn’t have turned him down. Instead she would have embraced him. Got to know him and probably would have kissed him by the end of the night. But the new and improved version of me wouldn’t allow that sort of behaviour. I am not looking for love, because I believe that true love doesn’t exist. We spend our days looking for that one prefect romance that we are never going to find. Love is just a myth. I thought I had it once before, but that ended in a way that was so painful and scarring that I never want to experience that feeling ever again. The new Ashley will put Mr Gucci out of her head and never think about him again.
Its six thirty, and my alarm has just gone off. I slowly climb out of bed and I head in the direction of the shower. Our bathroom is very small and very messy. There are clothes and towels lying all over the floor –we never have time to clean. I manoeuvre myself through the mess and I pull my oversized t-shirt over my head. I pull my hair out of the hair tie and it falls loose around my shoulders. I push back the shower curtain and I yank the water on. The noise is loud and violent steam always pumps from the shower before the water does. I climb into the bathtub and I wake up as the warm water trickles all over my body. I shampoo my hair and I lather myself with jasmine shower crème. The scent is heavenly and as I inhale a large whiff, I have a sudden flashback of Mr Gucci. He smelled incredible. His strong cologne was no doubt of the designer variety. My eyes close and an image of him enters my head. His dark eyes are big and sinful. His full lips were delightful as he gently bit them. His hair was immaculate and he was drop dead gorgeous. I shake myself. Stop thinking about him Ashley. I shut off the water and I jump out of the tub. I wrap myself in the cleanest towel I can find. And then I rummage on the floor for a small yellow towel to wrap around my hair. I quickly brush my teeth and then I apply some moisturiser to my skin. I smother my legs in cocoa butter and then I move onto my arms, stomach and shoulders. When I am satisfied, I rush out of the bathroom and back into my room. I rummage through my closet. I take out my white shorts and bright pink tank top. The curtains are slightly open and I can see the sun blinding in through the window. It’s so hot here that I always wear shorts and flip flops. I pull the towel from my hair and I quickly blow dry it. I apply some make-up and then I rush out of my room.
Our apartment is small, very untidy and cluttered. Our sofa is covered in clothes, magazines and old books. There are always some unwashed dishes lying on the kitchen counters and most of our food is on display. Boxes of cereal, pop tarts and potato chips are what we eat the most. Not healthy, but with the price of rent, gas, bills etc. we can’t always afford healthy food. I guess we are just lucky that we don’t seem to put on weight.
“Hey you’re up!” Sydney says as she pops her head around the arch of the kitchen. She is smiling at me. Her dark hair is poker straight and her eyes are glossed with dark eye shadow and mascara. I make my way into the kitchen and I see that Sydney has made a special effort today. She has two large stacks of pancakes and two mugs of coffee in front of her. She signals for me to come over and I do as she says. We stand and eat our breakfast. We don’t have seats in our kitchen so standing is always the only option. “So how are you feeling?” Sydney says as she pops a forkful of pancake into her mouth.
“Good actually. A little anxious but I’m really excited.” Sydney smiles and then she places her fork down onto the plate. Her eyes look serious, am I about to experience her inquisitive ways? Sydney can be very pushy and very judgemental. She always likes to know everything that’s going on. And she stops at nothing until you tell her. My heart starts to race. What is she going to say?
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” My eyes fall onto the plate in front of me. I can’t make eye contact with her. Sydney clears her throat as she pushes me again. “C’mon tell me!” I take a large swig of my coffee and then I meet her stare. Hey dark eyes are narrowed and staring right through me. I bite my lower lip as I think of my response.
“Who am I thinking about?” Sydney laughs.
“Mr Gucci,” she says in a smug voice. I roll my eyes at her and I take another sip of my coffee. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. I know that you were smitten by him.” I press my lips together.
“No I’m not. I wasn’t thinking about him.” My heart races –I’ve just lied. I try to steady my thoughts as Sydney talks.
“It’s okay if you were. He seemed perfect. Well perfect for you. I mean I wouldn’t date him. He’s too clean cut for me. But seriously, why didn’t you give him a chance?” Sydney’s voice is firm. I shake my head at her. She knows the reason. So why is she pushing me on this?
“I’m not looking for that. I don’t want a boyfriend. You know my reasons.” Sydney exhales and she reaches out and places her hand onto my arm.
“Not every guy is like Brandon. You have to move on from what happened. Let someone into your life. Mr Gucci could have been the one and you just let him get away.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes at Sydney. I know that she is only trying to help, but moving on from Brandon was just so painful. We had an awkward, obsessive relationship that ended so badly. He broke my trust and hurt me in so many ways. I can’t open myself up to another guy. I can’t go through that heartache again. Sometimes I feel that Sydney doesn’t understand. She only knows the girl that’s standing in front of her. She never met the Ashley from Dallas. She was broken, hurt and angry. Her life was messed up and not worth living. I have told her about my relationship with Brandon, but unless you were there to witness the pain, then it just doesn’t seem real. I am scarred and broken. I am damaged and those memories will always haunt me. I am not innocent or squeaky clean. I have made bad choices in the past. I have hung out with the wrong people and I have been in trouble so many times. Moving to LA was my fresh start and my one chance to pursue my dreams. I can’t go back to being that girl.
“I know. I just wasn’t into him. Mr Gucci was perfect, but he’s not for me. I’m not looking for … love or any of the mushy stuff. Music is my love.” Sydney exhales and she shakes her head at my response. She isn’t buying what I am saying. But I am too exhausted to fight her. I take another sip of my coffee and then I meet her stare. “You wanna give me a ride?” Sydney sighs and then she lifts her car keys from the counter. We walk into the messy apartment and I grab my bag from the couch. I follow Sydney out of the apartment and we head down the stairs in the direction of her car. The hot air hits me when I step out into the street. Sydney’s car is parked across the street. We link arms as we cross the busy road.
Sydney unlocks the car doors and I slide into her old blue Mustang. The car is roasting. So Sydney immediately drops the hood. The sun surrounds us as the roof opens. The heat is excruciating and Sydney must be toasted in her thick jeans and long black t-shirt. I don’t know how she can stand the heat. I can barely cope with it and I am dressed appropriately. I have asked her many times if she would like to borrow some shorts and a
tank top, but she always refuses. She is stuck in her ‘EMO’ ways.
The city is busy. Everyone is on their way to work. Posh cars and limos are everywhere in sight, as Sydney drives me to BeatBox records. We arrive at the building and I gasp when I take in its appearance. The building is tall, made out of glass and the shine is blinding as the sun beams onto the glass windows. The front of the building has a large red logo with the word ‘BeatBox’ written in bold letters. There is a large music note above the word and it reminds me of my hand. I look down at my hand and I smile when I see my music note tattoo. I trace the lines of the note with my finger and I laugh. I got my tattoo a few months ago. I always wanted it, but I never had the courage to actually go ahead with it until I moved here. Sydney and I both got tattoos. She got one of a skull on her hand and I got my music note. People always say that you regret getting tattoos once the novelty has worn off. But the novelty hasn’t worn off and I absolutely love it.
“You ready?” Sydney says as she switches off the engine of her car. I look out at the large intimidating building and I smile.
“It’s now or never.” Sydney embraces me with a quick hug and then I jump out of the car. I walk towards the entrance and Sydney shouts after me.
“Good luck!” I turn around and flash her my sweet smile and then I walk towards the glass doors. I enter the building and it’s massive. The floor is white, the walls are white and there is a large desk that spans the entire back wall. A well groomed lady is standing behind the desk. She has the office phone lodged to her ear, and when she sees me, she holds her finger in the air, signalling me that she will only be a minute. I smile at her and then I take in my surroundings. I can’t believe that I am standing in BeatBox records. I am speechless and I gasp as I look up at the spiralling glass staircase. I am mesmerised. This is amazing.
“How may I help you?” The woman says as she snaps me out of my daydream. I give her my full attention as I reply.
“I have a meeting with Mr Phillips.” The woman presses her lips together as she reads over a piece of paper that’s lying in front of her.
“Name?” She says not looking up from the paper. I clear my throat.
“Ashley Scott Harper,” I say firmly. The woman looks up and she flashes me a smile.
“Follow me Miss Scott Harper.” I feel terrible but I need to correct her.
“It’s just Harper, Scott is my middle name.” The woman blushes and then she quickly apologises.
“My apologises, Miss Harper. Now if you would just like to follow me.” I smile at her and she leads me up the stairs. The landing is bright and the walls are covered in posters of all my favourite artists. I’m in awe of this building. I am so excited and flattered that I am here. This is my dream come true. The woman leads me through a long hallway, and I can hear music playing through the walls of the closed offices. I smile, this is awesome. The brunette clerk leads me into a large room. There is a massive table with around sixteen chairs tucked nicely inside. The room is quiet. I am the only person in here. The woman heads back over to the door. “Someone will be along shortly to tell you where to go. Just take a seat. Would you like something to drink?”
“No thanks I’m good.” The woman smiles at me and then she stomps out of the room. There is a slight bang from the door as she leaves. I exhale and I push my loose hair away from my face. I am too excited to sit. I begin to pace the room, and I jump when the door bursts open. I turn to look at who has entered the room and I smile, as I look at the small woman. She has dark brown hair and she looks really exotic. She is wearing a blue skirt suit and she is carrying a clipboard. Her eyes meet mine as she introduces herself.
“Hello, my name is Lisa.” She says as she fills the space between us. I reach out and shake her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Ashley.” She smiles at me and then she begins to talk.
“Likewise. So if you would just like to follow me. I will take you to Mr Phillips.”
She leads me out of the room and along the hallway. We climb into an elevator and Lisa hits the up button. The doors open into a massive office. There is a large wooden desk at the back of the room. The sun is blinding through the large glass windows. Lisa leads me further into the room and I can’t help but notice a large grand piano over in corner. My eyes fix on the instrument and my heart aches. I would give my right arm for a piano like that. Lisa politely asks me to take a seat. I smile at her and I sink into the white leather couch. The room is bright and very colourful. The walls are white, with yellow striped wallpaper. There is a large snooker table and several pinball machines. There is a massive TV mounted on the wall and soft music is playing in the background. Over at the other side of the room, there is a small wooden dance floor. A drum kit, a bar stool and a microphone stand are all idly sitting on the floor. A door slides open and in walks Mr Phillips. He is dressed in a beige suit which looks sheer against his chocolate skin. He has is BlackBerry lodged to his ear as he walks towards me. He meets my stare and he ends his call. I offer to stand as he greets me. But he insists that I stay seated. I smile at him and he sits down at his desk. I look over at him as he roughly looks through the papers on his desk. He reads over his paperwork for a few moments and then he focuses on me.
“I want to start by thanking you Miss Scott Harper for meeting with me today.” I blush because I know that I am about to correct him.
“It’s just Harper, Scott is my middle name.” Mr Phillips nods and he runs his hand across is clean shaven head. His eyes are small, but very intense. I am very nervous as I sit in front of him and I have to remind myself to stay calm.
“Thanks for telling me. Now how have you been?” I am a little confused, what’s with the small talk? I fidget in my seat as he stares at me.
“I’m good, thanks.” I must sound confused, Mr Phillips quickly fills me in on what he expects from me.
“I have brought you here today because I was really impressed by what I heard last night. You have a very unique, chilling voice. I don’t usually get Goosebumps when I hear someone sing, but I did when I listened to you. Your voice is very moving. It seems as if you have pain hidden underneath. I would really appreciate it if you could sing for me again.” I blush at his kind words. He likes my voice. I am really humbled and flattered that he has asked me to meet him again. He seems really nice and very passionate about music. I would love to sing for him.
“It means a lot to me that you have acknowledged me. I would love to sing for you.” Mr Phillips smiles and he leaps out of his chair. He makes a gesture with his hand for me to stand. I do as he says and he leads me over to the small stage area. I sit down in front of the microphone and I pull it towards me. Mr Phillips leans against another desk and he is holding a remote control in his hand.
“Do you know ‘Because of you by Kelly Clarkson’?” He asks as he folds his arms across his chest. I nod. I love that song. He pushes a button on the remote and the backing track for the song rings through an expensive set of speakers. I close my eyes as I prepare to sing.
“I will not make the same mistakes that you did
I will not let myself
Cause my heart so much misery
I will not break the way you did,
You fell so hard
I've learned the hard way
To never let it get that far
Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid”
Mr Phillips signals for me to stop. My heart begins to race, did I disappoint him?
“Wow. Wow. Just wow.” He gushes. “I want to sign you.” I can’t breathe. He wants to sign me? This isn’t real. I must be dreaming. “I would like to sign you up for an eight week trial. That means you record with us, we promot
e your music and we schedule your gigs and so on. I will set you up in an artist’s penthouse. Give you an advance and I will assign one of my best producers to help you every step of the way. In eight weeks’ time if you haven’t made it, then your contract will end. You won’t owe the label anything. If you don’t make it then we call it quits. What do you say; do you wanna give it a shot?” My mind is spinning. I want this more than anything. Music is my passion and I can’t turn down this amazing opportunity.
“Where do I sign?” Mr Phillips laughs and then his phone rings again. He answers his call as he walks back over to his desk. He talks for a few moments, something about a meeting. I don’t have a clue what he is saying, I don’t care. I am in total shock about what he has just offered me. I can’t believe that my dreams have come true. Mr Phillips wants to sign me to a real record label. He is offering me so much, an advance, a penthouse. Sydney and I can finally move out of that hovel we call an apartment. My dreams are coming true. This is awesome.
“Sorry about that,” Mr Phillips says as he ends his call. “I don’t have the contracts in front of me and I gotta run. I will have my assistant Lisa escort you to meet your producer. He is one of the best in the business. He has a really good eye for young talent. He will be much more than just your producer. He will be your manager, adviser and friend. Where ever you go, he’ll go. He will make the right decisions; he will be there to answer any of your questions. Don’t be scared, he is an amazing guy and I think that you two will get on like a house on fire.” I smile at him as he slides himself out from behind his desk. He marches over to the door and he looks back as he reaches for the handle. “I believe in you.” I can feel a gentle tear forming in my eye, but I manage to compose myself.
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