I Play for Keeps

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

“Hey you!” I kept walking forward, trying not to show anyone the tears that were rapidly sliding down my cheeks. This was my last chance. Now…I have nowhere to go with my mom. She’s gonna…she’s gonna….

No.

I can’t even think it now.

A hand grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back. The man who had stopped me was one of the directors…one of the people who turned me down.

“Hi. Name’s Damien. I work with Capitol Studios.” He handed me a business card. “And I really think you have a voice. Come to the address on the card tomorrow at 9:00. Sharp. I don’t like late people. I think I could really help your carreer.” And he left me.

What the hell was that about?!

Capitol studios?

It was probably some law firm or something that wanted me to sue the theatre company. I can’t even afford to pay my mom’s medical bills anymore, let alone afford a lawyer.

I took the business card anyway, figuring I’d just throw it out once I get home. No need to litter the already dirted streets of New York City.

I walked a few blocks, still writing in pain from yesterday’s encounter with the boss. The feeling of his fists making impact on my body still lingered. I was out of that hell hole for good. And I wouldn’t ever be back unless I was really desperate.

But something tells me I’ll be really desperate soon.

I finally got home and plopped down at my cheap little laptop. I had to pay the electricity, rent, and internet bills in a week. Not to mention mom’s medical bills. She’ll be spending a lot more time in the hospital now with that coma. I groaned, trying to think of how I could make money.

I typed in the search engine ‘fast ways to make money.’ About a million results popped up. I picked a site with a fancy looking name. And I soon regretted choosing this site. The site told me the easiest way to make money was to become a prostitute or a stripper. But I’m not going down that road again. The other things that popped up were for little kids. Like open up a lemonade stand, do your chores, make your bed, brush your teeth. Seriously. I’m sixteen years old. I don’t get paid for making my bed and brushing my teeth.

Though I wish….

Sighing in frustration with my terrible results, I pulled out the business card that old man, Damien, gave me. Capitol Studios. Maybe they could give me a job.

I typed in the name in the search engine and waited for the results to load.

I clicked on a Wikipida link and gaped for a few minutes.

Capiotal Studios was a recording agency.

So that guy, Damien, was asking me to be a singer….for Capiotal Studios…

“OH MY GOD!!!!!!” I screamed, jumping around and dancing through my burnt house. I have a new way to make money!! I can save mom!

And all I had to do was show up at this place at 9:00 tomorrow morning.