The Good Life

A Whole Lotta Work

Kelly POV:

“Bianca thank you for helping me with this I just really need to get this one part done,” I thanked Bianca.

“All I’m doing is helping your siblings with homework, the usual,” Bianca said smiling as she exited the door.  Bianca is a great person; she was a short fairy about four feet eleven.  She had long ebony hair flowing down her back to her butt that complimented her high cheekbones. She was a Columbian and came here to America trying to get the American Dream but was shocked to find that it was bullshit. So we hired her after we heard about her life, now she’s living the true American Dream.

“Still it helps a lot, now all I have to do is a few more things,” I said patting her to go to the main house. I took the elevator to the studio where Joe was waiting for me. I had a few songs on my mind since I was at the safe house.

                Once the elevator rang indicating that I was on the fourth floor I turned around and walked out into my studio recognizing Joe and his entourage all sitting around on the couches talking.

“Joe! So glad you could come out and talk with me, but I have these songs nagging at the back of my head that only you could sing. And it’s such a pleasure to finally meet with you,” I said walking over to hug him.

“Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine, I’ve heard about you and your work ethic in the studio and your songs that I’ve heard are…amazing. So the honor is all mine in working in the studio with you officially,” Joe said while kissing my hand. Joe was a maroon colored man about five foot, ten with a bald head and a black beard. He screamed suave a gentleman with his black jeans that fight loosely to his waist and his gray button down shirt.

“Well then let’s see how you work,” A man said from behind Joe. I had to collect myself before I said something that would get me in trouble.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had the pleasure in meeting all of you,” I said turning toward them, specifically the man who wanted to see how I worked.

“Sorry that would be my fault. This is my manager Rocky,” Joe stated pointing to the man who wanted to see how I worked. He was wearing a suit and sunglasses on top of his bald maroon head, he had a silver earpiece hanging from his ear and he was holding a blackberry (I tried not to laugh at the corniness), “the big man in the tight muscle shirt is my bodyguard Rock, and the man sitting next to him would be my song writer Lyric. I hope you don’t mind, but when you called I was already planning an album, and I was working on it.” Joe explained.

“Well then, that’s respectable, so allow me to make a proposition. If you like how we record this one song, then I can produce your entire album while I’m on tour. If you don’t then you can take the song, call it yours and have someone else produce the record,” I proposed putting my game face on. I knew how to make money very well and I was determined to get artists under my wing.

“Well that sounds pretty cocky for a girl who’s only been in the industry for a minute now,” Rocky commented. Breathe, a voice said in my head, probably Red trying to soothe me. And speak of the devil he walked into the room with Fionna by him and Tigger and Kyle walking behind him. They walked over to the couch and sat down.

“I wouldn’t call it cocky, I’d say it’s confidence, and in my opinion Mr. Rocky, I’d say a good producer has confidence in themselves in order to promote themselves and even more confidence in their artist to promote them and their work,” I backfired with a sharp  business like tone.

“Well then I’ll agree to it, I like how you think and your confidence. So you want to introduce me to your posse,” Joe said smiling.

“Ah yes sorry. The man is Kyle, my friend, the brown dragon is mine Red and the purple one is his newly found mate Fionna. And the big cat is Tigger,” I said pointing to each one of them.