Waste time with a masterpiece, don't waste time with a masterpiece
You should be rolling with me, you should be rolling with me, ah
You're a real-life fantasy, you're a real-life fantasy
But you're moving so carefully; let's start living dangerously
DNCE ~Cake by the ocean
Chapter three
Bright Kellerman
I walked into the twenty-three story high rise in the heart of LA for the three-on-the-dot appointment I had with the PR manager for the band Thick as Thieves. I knew enough about them, I am more of a top 100 type, my depth is found in coffee house poetry Open Mic nights as opposed to a packed venue reeking of sex drugs and rock and roll.
Give me some Timberlake or Pink and I am all over a packed venue.
I had been in recovery for four years and after seeing the strange add in the online forum I was intrigued, but still have no clue what it is I have applied for.
I took a seat near the front desk of Hessian Aggression records. This place was insane, not your typical fancy pants office. There were gold records all over the walls, rock music playing low on the speakers overhead. I am a barista so it's not like I am offended by the tattoos or dreads or piercings, I am just not prepared to see it in an office.
The receptionist had more piercings in her face than the three I had in each ear and everyone I saw thus far had tattoos.
I look at my arm and love the burn that came from this mornings impromptu tattoo. And the seriously hard part of staring for two hours at the eye candy that ran Paradox Ink. Just the look of Jer made me wet. Seeing him though, all that sexy, bad ass, fuck-all-night look of his reminded me that even four years sober, I was always going to fight my need to go back for just a little fun.
Not the best thought to have before interviewing to be a sponsor.
Very unheard of, but I guess with high profile addicts like this one needed a better crop than an NA meeting from the street corner.
Then, like I was mind blown enough, I look up and see Carrie Beckett Blake and another woman with a purple faux hawk and tats everywhere. Both of them are so beautiful I feel so much better about this. I realize that I might actually fit in here better than I thought, I see the name brands on their handbags, know the fashion from Vogue alone, and yeah I would fit.
I had dressed down, wearing an off the shoulder cream sweater and torn boyfriend jeans, both from Target because there is no place for high maintenance in my line of work. That and knowing I would be dealing with an addict, I didn't think coming in dressed to the nines was appropriate.
It's not like I judge so freely, I just try to help people.
I know, total contradiction to the spoiled little rich girl I described.
“You must be Bright Kellerman?” The woman with purple hair said and I stood to shake her hand.
“Yes ma’am.” My voice cracked like it always does when I am nervous, and here I stand on a possible interview, I think in front of a famous author no less. I knew very little about the band, but what I did know was courtesy of Mrs. Beckett-Blake because she was married to the lead singer and one hell of a bad ass writer.
“So nice to meet you Bright. I am Tayla Livingston, I’m the Public Relations Manager for TAT.” She was already shaking my hand and smiling a genuinely kind smile, Carrie was too. It was like the twilight zone how nice they were to a stranger and it was a bright neon flag they were not from LA.
“Who?” I asked confused. I had a feeling this all got messed up because I had no clue who or what TAT was.
“Sorry. Thick as Thieves. We all call them TAT.” She laughs a sweet laugh. “Trust me sweetie once you see them you’ll get it.”
“Noah and Chad both were tattoo artists before becoming big and famous so it’s been an ongoing nickname for years to call them TAT.” Carrie said and held out her hand. “I’m Carrie, Chads wife and Noah’s sister. I honestly am here for shits and giggles so don’t mind me.”
We all start making our way down a long corridor all lined with more records and framed photos of some of the biggest bands.
“She’s full of shit, but you’ll learn one thing about Carrie and Noah, nothing happens to one if the other isn’t close by for protection.” Tayla says and holds the door to her office for me as I sneak in, trying to not trip over my feet. I had a sibling I was as protective over once.
The only wall in the office was the one dividing the office next door, and the one we just closed the door on. Windows lined the other two walls providing a panoramic view of downtown Seattle like I had never seen it before.
I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz desperate to get back to Kansas. This was not my world. My world was small and how I liked it. My addiction cost me everything and I was glad it had. I was happy to not be the spoiled rich bitch I had been up into my twenties when the real world decided I had fucked up enough. Now I worked hard and kept my nose down. I loved my life and this was not where I wanted it to go.
I was most definitely in the wrong place.
