Cliché (Andy Biersack)

Asshat

I spent all the time that I had perfecting the Vale album cover. I stayed late at work every night, I took my lunch breaks in my office and ate while I worked. I even worked on it at home. The only 'break' (if you want to call it that) I took was when I finalised everything for Ronnie's covers. Tim Burton's people let us use the art style, and the release would be in a couple of weeks. Ronnie even invited me to the release party he'd be organising. And he asked me to bring my friend with me, so I guess he also liked their conversation.

I am meeting with Andrew in half an hour, and I've been trembling since I woke up. It's been many years since I was this nervous about something. The last time I felt like this, was the day of my Art School entry exams. But I got in the last time. This time, I don't know what mood the man will be in.

I looked over everything again. I had the printed version of my work in my hands. It was the right size for a vinyl record cover. I also printed it out CD-sized.

I looked at my watch for the millionth time that morning and to my great displeasure saw that he still had 15 minutes.

I sighed and decided to quickly run to the bathroom. I had the smallest bladder when I was nervous.

When I came back to my office, he was sitting in my chair, with his feet up on my desk.

"You're late," he said. I shot him a panicked look and checked my watch. I let out a shaky breath when I saw that he was actually early. Which I also told him.

"The client is always right, Miss Williams, are they not?" He asked. I curled up my fists and gave him a polite smile.

"Now, let's see what you have for me," he said and gestured for me to sit down in the chair reserved for clients. The audacity of this man! I still did as told.

"Yes, so, this is the CD and Vinyl sized cover. I went with what we talked about, you know, the martyrdom. And who's a more famous martyr than Jesus Christ. The songs all had this sort of neo-apocalyptic vibe, and I just went with the flow of the music. The bird-like hybrids are an allusion to Prometheus, and his punishment after he stole the gods' fire for his people. I felt like it should be very metal but also carry meaning and references, to show a more sophisticated side of the content," I tried explaining in a short and concise way. It was difficult to talk about one's art. The whole point is that it should speak for itself. However, I did try my best.

He was quiet for a little while. His eyes scanned every inch of the cover. His eyebrows were scrunched up together in thought. He was nodding ever so slightly. It felt like a million hours passed before he focused his intense stare on me. I had to force myself not to cower before the intensity of his blue eyes.

"So?" I asked before I could stop myself. He remained serious for another minute and then he finally cracked a smile. He extended his hand, and I shook it, reluctantly. "Good job, Williams. I love it. And on your first try, too. I must say, as much as it pains me to admit, I was wrong to underestimate you."

A huge weight lifted off my shoulders and I gave him the first genuine smile. "Oh, thank God," I said, and he chuckled. Then he released my hand and stood up.

"Come on, Williams, we're grabbing a celebratory cup of coffee. This time I'm paying," he said, already standing by the door. He had impossibly long legs and so it wasn't that big of a feat for him to cross my entire office in three long strides.

"I haven't got all day," he said. Ah, there's that annoying tool I've grown to hate. I quickly scurried up and joined him.

We both ordered an espresso and rolled a cig in silence while we waited for our coffee.

"So, tell me more about your process," he beckoned me to speak.

"Uh, well, where do you want me to start?"