Not Your Ordinary Millionaire Love Story (completed)

Voice Of An Angel

"I'm sooo sorry!" The man I had stepped on groaned as he got to his elbows. Our eyes met and as fake as it felt, his golden-brown eyes sparkled. It was probably the sun reflecting off of them. His ears stuck out like Dopey's from Disney's Snow White and he had a round face.

"No worries, I apologize for not paying better attention." I blushed at his rich British accent.

"What are you doing lying on the ground?"

"I was watching the clouds dance." And from there on, I talked to him as if I'd known him for years.

*****

Just like five years ago was I able to talk to a stranger like he was a friend. Just like yesterday. We hadn't seen each other for five years, having only known each other for a day, and yet we still spoke to one another like there were no secrets between us. Well, I guess the fact that I'm pregnant. Should I tell him? Does he even like me? No, if I told him he'd act just like any normal friend would. Right?

I locked up the mail room and swung my purse over my shoulder. "Oh, I forgot!" Carl broke out. "I meant to deliver a package to the recording studio. Do you mind? I have to be to my second job at the bar in ten minutes."

"No problem, go ahead."

"Thanks Josie, the package is on the table under the window." I nodded and unlocked the door. Carl was gone when I came back out of the room with a medium-sized package in my hands. I went to the elevator and went to the floor that held the record studio that Harry owned. I found out that he created a studio only last year and has already made bank because of a new popstar he made famous himself.

I walked into the main office of the studio and dropped the package off at the front desk. The receptionist looked at it and nodded in acknowledgment then got up and took it around back to probably the main manager of the floor. I went to leave until I glanced over to the door that said recording room. I walked over to the door and took hold of the handle. Memories of all the late night gigs I got back in New York came to mind and all the people that cheered me on after each performance. I'm a good singer. And I know it. Throughout high school, I was always the girl with the voice. Maybe if I hadn't dropped out of high school my junior year I probably could have made something of myself. Running away from home was one of the worst decisions of my life.

I walked through the door way and my heart leapt and began beating fast at seeing my dream recording room. There was a man sleeping in the chair and I wondered if he was a deep sleeper. I slipped off my bag and placed it on one of the chairs in the mechanic room. I then slipped into the other room with the instruments and glass window and sat down on the stool that stood under the mike. I moved the mike back and shuttered at the noise it made throughout the small room. The mike was turned on, perfect.

I began, starting with a small whispery voice. I wrote my own songs and I even wrote one on my way to Washington. I sang that one. It was honestly a silly log of my whole trip across the country. I sang about the unhealthy snacks I bought, the man at the gas station who flirted with me, and even the reason I left the Big Apple.

I kept my eyes closed the whole reason trying to remember the melody I had come up with over the past few weeks as well as some of the lyrics.

I didn't open my eyes until I heard the sound of two hands clapping. "That was amazing!" The multimillionaire said over the intercom.