Producers Don't Play

sunset curve production studio

-1-

Music.

Money.

Producers.

Managers.

Talent.

It's all thats needed to create a strong foundation in the music business... that and usually semi-good looks.

The, highly competitive, music industry is one I am no stranger to. My mother was one of the finest music teachers in all of LA, my father just knew how to shred on the guitar.

Music was my childhood, hell even my teenage years were filled with it. Singing has always been a passion but after some... events, I fell out of it. I never wanted music out of my life so I took another route to keep the harmony.

But enough of that, this is my story.

"Excuse me! Pardon me! Walking here!" I try to stay chipper as I weave through the crowds of people along the Hollywood strip.

The coffee tray in my hand, held above my head to avoid it getting bumped into. Definitely a sight to be seen.

My best dress pants and jacket covering my body for my work day. I got the paid internship of a lifetime, be crazy not to look nice.

I walk past the Orpheum and sigh. It's been my dream to preform there since I could hold a note but my singing dreams were crushed as a kid, this job was a back up.

"Excuse me!" I chirp as I weave past a group of tourists, almost dropping my purse in the process. Key word, almost.

My heels click down the street, hair up in a nice bun and glasses rest on the bridge of my nose. It's tiring to need to look this good ok?

I've had this job for two months at this point. No clue how I landed it out of thousands of applicants but I did.

I push the door open with my elbow to the studio and throw on my 'I'm happy to be here and awake at eight in the morning' face.

I hand a coffee to the woman at the front desk. One goes in my locker for safe keeping and then find the recipients for the last two.

Ok, you got this.

I stand infront of her door, two hands on the tray as my heart hammers. She's not THAT scary... she's just my boss. She's just-

"Molina, you're staring again"

I whip my head around and see my co-worker slash mentor slash big brother figure. Reginald.

"What? Me? Staring? Pffft pu-lease" I roll my eyes, handing him a coffee.

"Ya sure? Cause you look frazzled, remember what happened last time"

"No?"

I totally remember.

"She opened the door, walked right into you and got both of your clothes dirty. She threw you out of the booth for a week!" He hisses.

"Oh come on- it wasn't that bad!" I force a laugh and shake my head. "She's just scary Reg!"

"Ya know, Ms. Taylor isn't that bad" He shrugs.

"Maybe I'm just intimidated. She's not much older than me and already runs this stupid place. She has her name on so many labels that I think she holds some record for producers under the age of thirty" I shiver at the thought.

"Do you want me to give this to her? She atleast likes me" He chuckles, taking a sip of his own coffee.

"No! No I got this" I hand him the, now empty, coffee tray thing and knock on her door.