Chapter 9
Julie
I felt like my brains were scrambled eggs in a blender, and I took it out on an unsuspecting victim, because Stephen Shale looked at me like I was a frothing-mouthed raccoon crawling out of the dumpster when I found him in the studio.
“Listen, Stephen Shale,” I said, and he took a step back, further away from me with his eyes wide like I was going to bite him. “You and I are not leaving this studio until I’m satisfied with what you’re making.”
“W-who are you?” he stammered.
“What the fuck do you mean, who am I? I was right here talking to you yesterday in this exact room.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Yeah, you’re that Kingmaker guy’s friend.”
Ugh. I guess I couldn’t blame him for not noticing me next to Kingmaker of all people. “Yeah… Julie.”
“Stephen. Uh, you, uh, working with the studio?”
“I’m working with you. I need you to make me a hit.”
He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.
He was a reedy kind of Black guy, a little young and scrappy looking, with a short Afro hairstyle, and he had a button-up check shirt that didn’t fit the badass-rapper vibe he said he wanted, but whatever.
He’d make a hit if I had to beat it out of him.
“I, uh, all right. I’m trying my best. But you know, creativity’s not just a faucet.
You don’t turn it on and get results. You gotta give it space, give it room. ”
I plastered on a fake smile. “Well, here we are. In the space. In the room, even. Now, tell me what your hit’s going to be?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know yet. It’s gotta come to me.”
I did not have the patience for this. I was up at five this morning, mostly from sheer cortisol wondering if I was going to be able to make rent and Daniel’s payment, and I’d been making deliveries just to scrounge by enough for the upcoming payment and cover the cost for this room.
And I guess maybe I didn’t really need to spend time in between deliveries reading the Iliad and looking up resources about it to make sure I was taking the right meaning from the text, nor reading old magazine articles, but I guess maybe I was hoping to be able to talk to Helena again.
And then I’d texted her and she’d told me to fuck off. So here I was. I smiled wider.
“Hey, Stephen Shale?”
“Er—yeah?”
“Just so you know, Kingmaker said you ain’t shit.”
“Oh.” He deflated. “What?”
“Yeah, I asked him about you making a hit and he laughed you off and basically said oh that kid, he’s a loser, can’t perform for his life.”
“Oh…” He looked like his crush had just rejected him in front of the whole school. I wasn’t done with him yet.
“So I’m not listening to your shit about the creative process needing some space like you’re some eccentric genius.
” I stepped closer, arms folded. “My grip on reality is currently holding on by a very tiny thread, and you can either work with me whether that faucet is on or not, or so help me god I will lock us in this room and Jigsaw you on the drum kit until you have a hit on your hands or until we’re both dead. ”
“Jeez, you’re crazy,” he said. “I thought you said the studio staff was gonna meet me here to work with me!”
“Yeah, well, I lied, and now here we are, so let’s not waste precious booking time.” I pointed a finger in his face. “Listen to me, Stephen Shale.”
“You gotta stop saying my name like that, it’s giving me the creeps.”
“Listen to me, Stephen fucking Shale.”
He whimpered, but he listened to me.
“You saw that Kingmaker freak?” I said. “You got a load of that asshole? You’re really gonna let him put you down?”
“Uh… I dunno?”
“Really?” I said. “Don’t you have anyone you love, dude?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Who?” I barked it like a drill instructor, and he shrank away.
“Uh, my, my momma.”
“You think your momma would want you to let that weird-ass Kingmaker guy put you down?”
“Uh, no, ma’am.”
“You’re damn right she wouldn’t. And I won’t let him put you down either. He said he was just being nice to your face but he thinks you’re nothing. A total nobody. How’s that make you feel, Stephen Shale?”
“Uh, bad, ma’am.”
“Then what are you gonna do about it?”
“Uh, talk to my momma?”
“No! You’re going to fix it!” I slammed my hand down on the piano, and he jumped. “So help me god, Stephen Shale, I am the only person in New fucking York who believes in you, so don’t let me down. Do you want to prove Kingmaker wrong or not?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
“Then let’s make your fucking music, dammit! Are you going to make me a hit, or are we going to die of dehydration in here?”
“I-I’m making you a hit, ma’am.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be the next big thing, Stephen Shale.”
“P-please stop saying my name like that, ma’am.”
“Okay, let’s go! 808s! Snares! Tell me your vision, Stephen Shale!”
He whimpered, but he complied. I saw what Kingmaker was talking about. This kid didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. But I’d said he would be a hit, and so help me god, he was going to be a hit.
Two hours later, we didn’t have one, and as much as I wanted to lock him in there and keep him at it until we did, I could only afford to book the room for two hours, so we got kicked out.
But he was getting somewhere. He had a pretty good voice, could sing and rap, even if he had no sense of rhythm, but I’d make him have one by sheer force of will.
He looked at me once we’d finished like he was happy with what he was doing but scared I was going to hit him, so I let him off easy with a clap on the shoulder.
“All right, so you’re not complete shit,” I said. “Good work. We’ll come back tomorrow.”
“T-tomorrow?”
“I’d keep you locked up in here until we’re done, but I’ve got business to do.” I had to make enough deliveries to pay for another booking.
“But I, uh, I was supposed to meet up with some guys tomorrow…”
“Tell them the studio is too engrossed with your hit to spare you, Stephen Shale! Greatness requires sacrifice!”
He whimpered and nodded and agreed that it did and that he’d be back tomorrow, and I waited until we were out in the lobby—and the studio attendant looking at me weirdly meant she had an idea how much of a fit I’d been throwing at Stephen Shale—before I caught him at the door.
“Hey, Stephen, wait up,” I said, and he shrank away. “Relax. I’m not gonna hit you. You got the schedule?”
“Uh, yeah, be here tomorrow.”
I put my hands on my hips. “What time, Stephen Shale?”
“Uh, tomorrow?” He looked like a deer in the headlights.
“What am I gonna do with you? Get the app.” I showed him—turned my phone around to let him see the flashy display on Jewel, which, Krysten had outdone herself, it was a pretty app. He nodded.
“Oh, uh, okay.”
“It’s a proprietary app for managing talent relationships. I’m a partner with the creator, which means we get some special bonuses. I’ll be your official agent, manage your schedule. All good, Stephen Shale?”
“Yes, momma. I mean—I mean, ma’am. Yes, ma’am. All good, ma’am.”
I waved him off. “Get outta here, Stephen Shale. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He hiked his backpack up on his shoulders and went out the door, and the studio attendant, a white girl with green hair and a septum ring, came over to me with a curious look.
“You’re about to give that poor kid a heart attack.”
“Ah, he’ll live. Kid needed a push.” I leaned against the wall, a hand in my pocket. “Thanks for loaning out the space. You work for Sean?”
Insider knowledge did the trick of making me look more important than I was. She nodded. “Yeah, been working here three years now. Name’s Amber.”
“Julie. I’m a talent agent. Nice meeting you, Amber. You the one I heard of who keeps things running around here?”
I was just making it up because people liked to be flattered, but it worked. She chuckled, hands in her pockets, slouching. “Sorta. I’m good with the audio engineering shit, so I’ve saved Sean’s ass a couple times.”
“Glad I could get through to the real heart of the organization. Figuring if I want to work with this studio more often, wanna get my workflow integrated. You got a second to chat about my friend’s talent management app?
We’ve got an insider program where the whole studio could adopt it at a big discount from other scheduling and management software and get some good connection perks out of it, and it’s gonna make life easier for me and anyone else I’m sending this way. ”
She shrugged. “I don’t have the authority to talk on stuff like that.”
“Aw, c’mon, Amber. You’re the one doing this work half the time, aren’t you?”
She slumped. “See right through us, huh?”
Like hell I saw through anything, I just knew the boss never actually took responsibility himself. “You’ll be able to back me up to talk to Sean about it, can’t you? If there’s one thing I know about the guy, it’s that he’s stubborn about how things are done.”
She gave in, thank Christ. “Ah, guess so, yeah. I gotta prep the room before the next guys come in, though. You free at nine?”
I was going to be fucking sleeping on my feet at nine. But I couldn’t really wait until tomorrow. “Yeah, I can be.”
We traded numbers—I’d gotten more people’s numbers in the past three days than I’d gotten in the two years in New York before that—and I was out the door hauling myself onto my moped as soon as it was in both of our schedules, clocking into the app again.
I could work this strategically. Take deliveries that would lead me close to another studio.
And hope that the guys in charge there wouldn’t see me handing some guy his twenty-dollar coffee.