𝐌𝐬. 𝐇𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧 | 𝖱𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽-𝖱

3 | Something Like A Romantic

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"Welcome, summer. I can't wait to help you guide your career," Ms. Hamilton says, appealingly with a crooked smile; barely recognizable. You'll see it every blue moon. The black pen scratches the contract as the new artist stains her signature, thereby a radiant smile spread across her lips. The man next to her begins to clap his hand, motivating other people in the room to join in the celebration. This is the fourth artist Normani signed during this week. Couple days ago, some artist name Yo Trane signed with the label, and the cuban never heard of him before. But now, she has some of his songs on repeat.

"No, thank you. This is what I've been waiting for all my life," she expresses with some clarity of relief, setting down the pen whilst Normani stands out of seat, signifying the meeting had meet its end. The latina nearly hopped out of her seat then everyone eyes snatches to her attention. Peeking around, her head cranes centimeters by centimeters until her eyes meet wide brown ones. Right! she says in her head, only stand up when she gives permission. Even though I can never tell when.

The clearing of someone throat brings her back into the environment, only just now, deep brown orbs are out weighing everyone else's in the room. Daring to look over, her boss's eyes were enigmatic. "Thank you for your time, Summer," the owner says in her normal tone of voice, eyes still on the latina; whom had still yet to be seated. Facing the girl, she smiles, "Next time we meet-studio time." The next two minutes is spent in silence, as Normani talks to another person. Mya runs off after she is ask to get coffee, and the cuban sits down, thawing in her chair.

"You're giving me a headache with your thinking," the sultry voice reveals, and the latina eyes blink then back in the room she was. Normani was pushing in her chair, then blankly announces, "I'm going on a vacation. I deserve a break." It takes a moment for the information to whack the cuban upside the head. Her legs; having a mind of their own, stands before her, and she thinks, I have to stop doing that.

"But to do that-"

"Yes," the ebony woman smiles, "My assistant will have to travel along. I've noted Mya the other day."

The jumbled up cuban sat back down slowly, just as Mya step pass the elevator. Hazel eyes look on as Mya politely greets her co-workers. Eyes switching over to Normani; she is breezing through those papers too quickly, it's messing up her plotting. Once again, back on the assistant, she seems to be engaged in a deep conversation. Then something came over her. Something that taste dangerous, but feels smart.

"Why don't I go along?" she query, eyes glaring through the glass, she wonder how she hasn't melt them, "How can I learn behind someone else? You want me to become your assistant, how when I can't even get the feel of it," her head turns to narrow, brown eyes. She holds them, "I haven't even went to get you coffee yet-I want this job, need it actually."

The silence and brown eyes swallows her whole, and then finally, "Very well. We should start leaving in ten minutes," she shuffles around the table, then flash a look back, signaling for her to follow, "I wouldn't want my workers to think I'm irresponsible by being late." Lauren eyes darts around, as her body responds to the sharp look, then tries to catch up with her. It's just one problem on her mind.

"...I-what...what about my clothes," she trips over her two feet, directly, ramming into her boss's back; whom doesn't move an inch forward, tip over, or flinch. The right side of Lauren's face felt like a brick was thrown there from the throbbing, that's now, touring up into her head. Disregarding feeling light-headed, still she faces her boss when the business woman turns around like a normal, and not in pain, human being.