Fancy

1

Singing to myself, that was how I got "discovered", I know lame right? It was just like any other day at work, mop, clean tables, clean the grease trap of the grill, mop again, etc. That was until we had a customer who must have heard whisper singing "Time After Time" by Margaret Whiting using the end of the mop as a pretend microphone as it dragged across the ground. " What's a pretty girl like you doing mopping floors ?" he questioned, " Oh well I just find it to be great fun" I snap back sarcastically.  " Well I think that you have some real potential and a beautiful voice" he complimented, handing me his business card. We chatted as I mopped some more and he claimed that he worked for a big record label from Hollywood, that he was just in New York visiting family. 

He soon left, telling me to call him. So the next morning as I was doing my makeup and hair I called him, enthusiastic at the idea of fame. When he picked up he excitedly exclaimed that he had been in contact with his boss who now would love to see me sing for himself and I would have a completely accommodated trip to California and how excited I was! I was informed that I would be flying first class all the way across the country to sing for a supposedly famous man who may or may not dictate the way my future plays out. Flattery must be the man from the diner, who's name I later learned was Oliver De'Lambilly, greatest skill because I not only left the call giddy with excitement  but also blushing from the praise he had been dishing out so easily as if he actually meant it. God I hope he did. 

I was practically oozing with joy all day at work and all the days that followed it until the day of my flight. I had went out and spent a good portion of my latest paycheck at different clothing stores, using it on all sorts of new clothes, jewelry and shoes only four days out from the trip not giving me much time to pack but I wasn't complaining. Stepping on the freshly cleaned, navy blue carpet of the airplane finding my seat easily as it was one of the eight  first class seats. The whole flight I was constantly shifting in my seat anxious at the mere thought of what would happen to me if the meeting went well. Needless to say I was very excited but also very very exhausted so after around half of an hour after take off I drifted of into a dreamless nap. I was startled awake from the popping of my ears as the plane descended into L.A.X. also known as the Los Angeles International Airport. Wiping the drool off of my chin and buckling my seat belt I tried to mentally prepare myself for the meeting that was in only a few hours. 

 Wandering aimlessly around the vast airport I finally made my way to the exit Oliver said that he and his crew of security would be meeting at. I recognized him immediately except this time he looked, less shabby for all intents and purposes. When I first met him he adorned worn looking trousers and a sweater that looked like his grandmother made it for him, now he was wearing a well tailored suit and tie with his hair quaffed perfectly to the left. After straightening out my dress and fixing my hair I walk over to him confidently and shake his hand as he kisses it, "Hello Fanah" Oliver says welcomingly, " Hello Mr. De'Lambilly" I reciprocate happily "You can call me Oliver, no need for honorifics" he corrects politely helping me into the car. On the drive to my hotel he gushes about how much his boss who he names as Mr. Brown will love me and will quote unquote sign me the moment he hears my voice.

Pulling up to the hotel I say goodbye to Oliver and he tell me that he will be picking me up by 2:30 pm, stepping out of the car I check my watch it was quarter after ten so I had a few hours to eat and get ready for the interview. Strolling down the sidewalk to the nearest restaurant that wouldn't cost me a fortune for two milligrams of food I came across a burger stand called "In N' Out" ordering a simple burger with fries and a coke. Shortly after ordering I found a seat at a booth near the door where my food was soon delivered to me by a kind waiter who went by the name James. Making small-talk with the boy, and I say boy because he looked no older than 15, he asked why I had come to California and when I answered honestly he congratulated me and bid me good luck before walking back to the main part of the diner to serve others. Scarfing my food down like a starving dog, thinking about what I was going to wear. A shiver went up my spine thinking about having to face the alleged Mr. Brown.