Chapter 1
I walked down the lonely street in the February drizzle that bathed Tulsa that night. Most sane people were inside somewhere--warm, safe, dry. I, however, had someplace to go. I had to get to the job interview. Actually, it wasn’t even a job; it was an internship. My counselor had informed me that I needed the internship to look better on my scholarship applications. I finally gave in, knowing that I probably wouldn’t be able to attend college without some kind of scholarship to back me up and I needed more accomplishments and activities to fill in on my applications.
There were hundreds of kinds of interns I could have been. I could have been an intern at law offices; I could have gone to work side by side with major marketers in Tulsa. I looked each over, and watched as many of them disappeared quickly as I waited weeks to make a decision. Finally, I knew that I had to apply for one or I wouldn’t be an intern at all, and at that time, there were only three decent openings left. The first was a the opportunity to be a teacher’s apprentice in one of Tulsa’s many elementary schools, which I didn’t see myself doing very well in. Then there was one working in the research departments of Oral Roberts University. That one didn’t appeal to me, either. Lastly, there was the one I fell in love with. It was a job at a recording studio. I don’t know why the wonderful internship hadn’t been snatched up yet, but I thanked God that it hadn’t been.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved music. The feel of it in my blood has always been present, and it made me grow to love music dearly. This was partly my parents fault for giving me a name I could easily live up to: Melody. I never was much of a singer, though, and so I was interested in the instrumental portion of it, which caused me to take up a few instruments such as the piano, the guitar, the flute and a little bit of the violin. My room was a shrine to music. I had posters of my favorite bands along with sentimental sheet music framed and hung on my wall. One corner of my room was taken up with my guitar and my giant box for all my books and sheet music. Then, one of my favorite features in my room, I had a large keyboard that was covered to look like a desk when it wasn’t in use. I loved that keyboard and I often stayed up nights just tinkering with the slick white keys and watching as a tentative melody would pour forth from my fingertips. Music--it was what made me me.
I approached the mediocre studio with the name “Harmony Records” painted elegantly on the door. Stepping inside, I shed my wet coat and hung it on a coat hook, before tending to my damp hair. Even though I hated interviews, I knew that looking like a wreck wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I quickly pulled out a hand-held mirror and ran a quick check list. Hair? Damp, but still presentable. Make-up? Mostly gone, but re-application wasn’t necessary. Not enough time--besides this was an interview, not a date. Teeth? Clean and semi-white. Clothes? Slightly rumpled, buttons all buttoned, and no runs in the hose. Luckily, I still looked somewhat professional.
I had tried to choose an outfit that would look neither too old, nor too young for my age. I finally decided on an oversized sweater over a long skirt with slits on both the right and left sides. After I was completely sure that I wasn’t going to make a fool out of myself by simply walking into the office, I took a deep breath and opened the door into the waiting area.
The secretary was a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair peppered by gray highlights. She looked up and smiled when I walked in. “Hello, young lady. You must be Miss Wilson; won’t you have a seat? I’m Sharon, Mr. Thames’s personal secretary. He’ll be with you in a moment,” she gestured toward a few very uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs that were opposite of the door to the main office.
“Thank you,” I replied politely and took a seat. The back of the chair quickly began rubbing my skin raw, so I sat up straight, trying to keep myself distanced from the brutal chair. As I waited, I went over in my head what I would say and flipped quickly through my résumé, making completely sure that the basics were correct.
Name: Wilson, Melody C
Birthdate: June 18, 1981
Sex: Female
Grade: 12
I didn’t know if my experience was very relevant. I had written that I had taken music lessons since I was in the first grade and that both my parents are teachers of music. I didn’t know if they would care too much that music was my life, but I put that down anyway, hoping to sway them by sharing that it was my one true passion.
“Miss Wilson, Mr. Thames will see you now,” Sharon informed me.
“Thank you,” I said quickly as I rose out of the hard chair and approached the door. This internship could make or break my college career. I needed this job and I knew it, and because of that I would do anything in my power to get it. I had even thought of resorting to groveling.
“Hello, Miss....?”
“Wilson, Melody Wilson,” I supplied for the man behind the desk. I handed him my resume.
“Miss Wilson. May I call you Melody?” I nodded quickly and he continued, “I’m Jake Thames; I’m the owner of this little business.”
“Hello, Mr. Thames. It’s quite a comfy little place you have,” I admired the hangings on his walls as he took a quick look at my resume. Adorning his walls were pictures of singers that had probably turned out to not fit the life of a musician or that had tried but were rejected from the business; they were obviously the mundane trophies he had acquired through years of flirting with near breakthroughs, but never quite reaching them.
“You see all those people up there?” he asked me, probably noticing my upward glances. I simply nodded, looking again at the pictures. “You don’t recognize any of them, do you?”
“No, sir, I don’t,” I shook my head.
“You never will. None of them will ever make it anywhere. I’ve had this little business for about six years, and just now I’m on the verge of getting the one client that could actually pull my record company into the big time. That’s why I need an intern. You see, Sharon is having some personal problems at home and can’t be here all the time. I’ve just gotten through ordering a batch new equipment that I probably can’t afford without this client. I need help, but I don’t have the money to pay for it,” he leaned forward in his chair. “Melody, do you really want this job?”
“Yes sir, I do,” I nodded, sitting up straight in my chair.
“Then it is yours--on one condition,” he paused, waiting for me to inquire.
“What condition?”
“Can you start tomorrow?”
***
“Okay, Melody, I know the first day isn’t going to be the easiest. It’s absolutely going to be the most boring day you’ve ever had on a job. You get to do research--just like school,” he smiled warmly. I really liked Mr. Thames--I mean, Jake. He insisted I call him Jake. He hated feeling like an old man, and that’s what he felt every time he heard himself being called “mister.”
“What am I researching?” I asked quietly. Researching wasn’t one of my strong suits.
“Well, it’s pretty easy, actually. You’re going to be researching recording studios. I want you to write down the kind of equipment they use, who has recorded there and if you can, find any good comments or tips that someone has said about that studio. I have a list of some of the top recording studios right here, and you’re going to be researching them on the internet. Are you familiar with the internet?”
“Yes, quite familiar, actually.”
“Good. Well, I have to go and work on my final arguments for the new client a bit more, so you go on ahead and just take down whatever you deem worthy of our attention. I’m preparing to make this the best studio in Tulsa,” he winked at me and then left me alone in the secretary’s small outer-office. I popped my knuckles and sighed before starting the tiring quest for information.
Four hours and two cokes later, I had researched every studio on his list as thoroughly as possible, and had printed out the six an three-quarters pages of information I had collected. I checked my watch and realized it was past lunch time, so I got up and poked my head into Jake’s office where he was on the phone.
“....and we’re in the midst of ordering new equipment right now. In fact, most of it will be in by Tuesday. You don’t have to make a decision now, but if you’ll just come down, say, a two weeks from then and just give us a look over, you can think about it after that,” Jake paced nervously around the room, the cord wrapping around him as he waited for a response on the other end of the phone. “You will? Great! So, we’ll see you then! Have a good day,” Jake said happily as he replaced the phone on the hook. Suddenly, he jumped out of his seat. “We got ‘em! They’re coming!” He ran to me and began dancing with me as I stood, dumbfounded.
“What happened, Jake?” I laughed as he grabbed my hands and looked me in the eyes excitedly.
“Our biggest prospective clients are coming to check out the studio two weeks from Tuesday! This could be it!”
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Chapter 2
Chapter Index