‘Oh, that’s it!’ a sweet redhead says. ‘Now I remember. I saw her yesterday at the desk. She was very helpful. Pointed me in the direction of the lifts. Gave me a lanyard.’ She fiddles with the card around her neck as if to demonstrate.
‘Well, now.’ Marco flashes his wild, energetic eyes around the room, stopping when they get to me, causing my heart to somersault. ‘Now she works here.’
‘That’s not how it goes, Marco,’ Betsy says, shaking her head. Enjoying the negative motion just a little bit too much. ‘She’s–’
‘Clara,’ Marco interrupts.
I’m surprised. He’s taking it all in.
‘Clara,’ Betsy corrects herself, ‘works on the main desk reception. You can’t go poaching people just because they bring you a latte.’
‘She didn’t. She hasn’t got to that yet,’ Marco snaps back.
Hmm. I’m not so keen on the attitude.
‘Besides, she’s not on reception anymore. Now she works for me, full-time, here.’
Betsy’s lips curl into a frigid smile. ‘And Amy?’
Marco waves his hand dismissively like an irritated fly is buzzing around his face. ‘Amy, that was a different job description. That was yesterday.’
I clear my throat, determined not to let Betsy intimidate me. I would love this job, but I don’t want to tread on Amy’s toes.
‘This is not just organisational PA stuff, Amy stuff. I need someone to help more with the music production.’
Working around musicians would be a dream come true. I have to be the bigger person here. ‘So pleased to meet you, Betsy.’
The woman’s eyes narrow further. Why do I feel like such an imposter? I feel sure she’s going to bark me out of the room. Throw me down the lift shaft. But her features soften just a little when I extend my hand out for a shake, even if she doesn’t take it. She must be able to see that everything is under control here. I clearly have my uses.
‘Just make sure you log everything,’ she says. ‘You’ll find my notes on Amy’s desk about how I like it all formatted. No mistakes. I want it by tomorrow.’
‘Not a problem.’ I smile, but behind my back I have my fingers crossed. It’s not just Marco that I need to please in order to land this job.
MARCO
When I come to, my mouth is really dry. The kind of dry that feels as though you’ve been munching on sawdust all night or licking a deep shag carpet. Sadly, I’m not in bed. I’m in a public space, on the red couch in my studio. I’ve never seen so many people milling around, including a lot of seriously over-made-up women in skimpy clothes with odd hairdos. One good thing, they all look happy. They’re smiling, which was not the situation when I passed out. The nice-looking woman in blue is still here. I think this is a good thing. She’s ushering people into order, and she seems to know a lot about music. I like her.
‘The auditions,’ I mumble, wiping a trail of dribble from the corner of my mouth. Shit, I’m a mess. ‘Right!’ I roar, giving my head a quick shake before flexing my bones. Things start cracking. I’m not going to let on, but I’m seriously too old to be sleeping on couches. Far too old. ‘Remind me?’ I say, squinting my eyes at the woman I met just before I went under.
‘Clara,’ the woman in blue says, the one with the glorious body and skeins of gold flowing over her shoulders.
Stop this, I think. I need to get myself under control. No affairs at work. That’s my mantra. I feel myself frowning, stumbling over the loophole. Does she actually work for me, though? Interesting. It’s then that I realise I haven’t said anything for a while and she’s looking straight at me. Intently.
‘Great.’ I pull a hand through my hair. I need to go to the bathroom. Freshen up. Thankfully, I keep a wash bag in my office. I might not have affairs with people in the building, but I sometimes bring them back here. Music and women – it’s always a turn-on. Wait. What am I thinking? This is our biggest time of the year. The auditions. Why am I getting sidetracked by this woman? I glance around again. It’s not just the fact that everyone is smiling now, I seem to remember when I went to sleep this place was chaos; now it looks, well, kind of normal. I stare back at this Clara woman. Did she do all this? On her own? How does that even work? She must have an entourage hidden somewhere. Everybody does these days.
‘Well, yeah… Let’s get this show on the road.’
At this, there’s a lot of clapping. I enjoy clapping. Who doesn’t enjoy clapping? But I try not to bask in it too long. We’ve have got serious work to do. I’m guessing we’re behind. ‘Hey, Clara?’
She’s smiling up at me, all wide-eyed. So happy, so gorgeous, so… I’d like to take her into my arms and run my fingers through that hair, touch that face, slide my hands across her… Audition! I think. I’ve wasted enough time.
‘Clara,’ I repeat. Best get her at a safe distance. She nods again at the sound of her name. I’m starving and I can’t leave this mess, so I ask her kindly if she could go out and grab breakfast.
Her face falls a little, like she was expecting something else. I’m not sure what, but it’s not as if I’m asking her to pay. I reach in my pocket for some money, my company card. Only then, guess what? The true goblin arrives. The one that doesn’t need a mask. Betsy Miller, my partner. The partner I had to get into bed with, not literally, be thankful for small mercies. But let’s just say the music business is not what it used to be. Betsy came in with the dosh, but there’s no such thing as a free tune. She has hoops she’s keen to make me jump through.
‘Well, isn’t this cosy?’ My partner leers.
I’d thought she wasn’t going to come in for the auditions. We’ve been at it for so long. I had hoped she was getting bored, and I know for a fact she doesn’t like working on a Friday. Betsy is the money side of the equation, not the creative side, and for me, those two things don’t mix.
