"Welcome to JFK airport, New York. It is currently seven forty three in the morning, thirty seven degrees and it is cloudy with chances for snow tonight. We would like to wish you and your families a merry Christmas and thank you for flying with Delta airlines,"
It was five days before Christmas and I woke up to the calm voice of an air hostess and my Mom pushing me awake. Half asleep, I stuffed my phone and it's earplugs in my back pocket and stood, letting my Mom out of the seat, pulling my carry on from the overhead.
Off the plane, we walked through to the car rental place where I was able to find a bench and wait quietly. Checking me phone, I had a text from Mattt:
Matt: just checking in, hope your plane lands safely
Quickly replying, I told him I had landed before putting my phone away, waiting for Mom and Dad.
"So we're going to go to Granny's to get cleaned up," Mum explained to me, in the car, driving out of the airport. "Then you and Dad are going to the Record labels for the meeting remember?"
I remembered. I had waiting forward for this day since we were able to book the meetings. Somehow, with all his contacts, Dad was able to land us three meetings with RCA, Columbia and Republic records, all which had bred some of my favourite artists ever.
"When are we getting breakfast?" I brought up, leaning on the car window.
"While you and Dad get changed, I'll run around the corner and get you coffee and bagels," Mom told us.
"A true New York breakfast!" Dad added.
I hadn't been in New York for a year and there was something about it that felt like home. In the city that never slept, I felt wide awake. New York was my hometown.
Granny and Gramps had a small townhouse in Brooklyn which was currently unoccupied because they'd already gone up to Connecticut. Granny and Gramps house held so many memories for me that going there felt like a reunion episode. In their spare room was a drawing I had done when I nine right before I moved to San Francisco. In the living room, they still kept the toys I used to play with as a little kid when they'd babysit me because Dad was out performing.
Showering and getting changed into a warm yet professional and simultaneously creative, I was now beginning get nervous.
"Margot!" I could hear Mom call from downstairs. Slipping a pair of black heeled boots on, I ran downstairs to my coffee and bagel.
"How are you feeling?" Mom asked, putting an arm around me as I ate my breakfast.
"A little nervous," I wrapped my fingers around the warm cup that contained my coffee.
"You be great," Mom assured me. "Plus, Dad will be there with you every step of the way,"
"Don't worry, all they really care about is the music anyway. They'll like it, and when they see your passion, they'll want to sign you immediately," Dad assured, sitting across from me.
Taking a taxi to the first building, we didn't want to have to fine parking in the middle of Manhattan. Luckily, we had good traffic on the way there and were on time.
"Hi, I'm Miles Mitchell, I'm here with my daughter Margot for a meeting," Dad approached the desk of the Columbia office.
This was our third and final meeting of the day.
On the subject of our previous meeting, it wasn't exactly negative, but not positive either. We had shown the producers my stuff and they seemed to like it, but when it came down to singing and talking business, everything just died.
Waiting in a conference room, Dad and I were just thinking one thing. Third time the charm.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," A thirty something woman entered, looking chic in a thick turtleneck knit and black tailored pants. "I'm Grace, you must be Margot, and this is your dad Miles,"
Outstretching her hand, I stood to shake it and the first thing that came to mind was that fact that she didn't immediately gush to my dad. People always wanted to suck up to dad, that's all they ever did and ever if I admired my dad as much as everyone else.
"So you're a singer," Grace began, opening her laptop. I nodded. "Tell me about yourself,"
"I'm Margot, I'm eighteen," I began, being cut off by Grace.
"I know that," She stopped me, as if I was being silly. "Tell me you about you,"
"I'm a singer-songwriter, I mix and create my songs myself with my Dad," I talked, introducing myself.
We continued smalltalk until she asked to show her my music. Plugging in my laptop to the stereo, I played my song Tyrone, then Hold On.
She didn't seem unimpressed, nor the opposite, but she had a faint smile of enjoyment.
"I'm impressed," She looked up from her lap. "I'm seriously impressed. You have a great voice and your songs are especially well constructed and are highly technical,"
"Thanks," I blushed, flattered, tucking my hair behind my ear.
"So why do you want to do music?" She brought up, typing something briefly into her laptop.
"Music has always been such a big thing in my life that I've learnt for it to be my form of expression and identity. I guess I can attribute that to my dad. I've always been surrounded in music, so it's come naturally," I explained, my body releasing tension. "I guess for the future its the fact I can share it., but more importantly that by being able to be signed and to be able to work with professionals in the industry I can develop as an artist and as a musician,"
"Good answer," She approved. Looking over to Dad, he was grinning too. "So when can you start working with us?"
Looking to Dad, we were both in awe. She was actually straight up offering me a record deal.
"I'm constantly working on new material," I began. "I'm a senior, and I'm based in Houston of course, but I am always working and that I don't stop,"
"I want to help you get through high school. I want for you to graduate as soon as possible so I can have you here, working, doing what you love," Grace leaned on the table, immersed. "So Miles, I guess this is where you come in, as Dad,"
"There are multiple options, Sunday school to get extra credit, switch to online school. Margot's Mom and I have both discussed this topic and we just want to support Margot," Dad explained, putting an arm around me.
"Of course, I can't force you guys to make any decisions," Grace assured. "And as someone who wants to work with you, I still want you to finish school, no matter how much you want to do music,"
"I want to graduate regardless," I added.
"Look, you should talk it out, with Mom too. Let me give you my card, call me. I'll be back to work on the fifth, so call then," Taking a business card, she wrote something down before passing it to us.
We left minutes later, and waiting for a taxi, we simply shared a looking before jumping in the air in excitement.
"Gogo! You did it!" Dad grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you."
"I wouldn't have gotten here without you," I told Dad and it was true. "Thankyou, for everything,"
a/n: hi, sorry i haven't updated in a while.
