keep it professional - r. taylor

8

~June 1975~

"A farm?" Kathleen slammed her magazine shut and placed it back on her bed. "You're telling me that for your work, you're being sent to a farm?"

"It's not a farm Kat."

"It literally says right here on the address, Rockfield Farms." Kathleen shoved the information packet Paul had given me in my face.

"Okay, I know that says farm right on there. But we're going to be there to record an album."

"This is what I don't understand about the world. How is it that you're going to a farm to record an album, and get paid for it, while I'm stuck at home serving dicks who leave less than a ten percent tip."

"I'm not entirely sure. Maybe if you actually tried in university for once, you could actually get a job that you enjoy."

"Hey! You know I had a hard time focusing on all my classes!"

"That's because you were busy staring at the boys in the classroom. Sometimes even the teachers."

"Only the young ones!" She got up from the bed and walked over towards me near her closet, to which I was trying to find some clothes for my trip. "What are you even looking for anyways?"

"Well, I've been told that it gets pretty cold out there during the mornings. Plus, it's supposed to rain for a few days, and I want to be prepared."

"Oh, then take whatever rain gear you need. It's supposed to stay sunny for the next few months. Especially near the coast, you know, where Harry is taking me for the week."

"See, I'm more jealous of you for that. At least you get to lounge around and relax. I'm going to be constantly surrounded by boys for many weeks. And yes, I know they are all grown men, but they act like little children all the time. One time, Roger and Brian got into an actual fistfight over the last pancake during breakfast."

"Well, I'll be thinking about you as I read my book on the coast."

"And I'll be thinking of you as I sit in a recording booth, trying to pass the time counting the number of hairs on my head."

---

I knew we were staying at an actual farm, but I didn't think it would be the stereotypical farm that I had read about in children's books. It took me about three hours to drive out there, including a few stops for gasoline and snacks. But as I drove up towards the main house, the gravel suddenly turned into dirt. I now deeply regretted wearing slightly raised boots.

Stepping out of the car, my shoes began to slowly sink into the dirt. I had to keep moving my feet or they were going to fully sink in. The rest of the group had begun to leave their vehicles at the same time I did. While I was opening my trunk, I heard Roger already start to complain, saying, "Recording studio?"

"Well, the plan was to get you away from all your distractions," Paul responded. "You know, music, girls, drinking, the whole situation."

"So then why is Elizabeth here?" Roger asked.

"Well, I don't really see her as much of a distraction."

"Thanks Paul," I said, slamming my trunk shut. I made sure to shoot him some annoyed glances as he led us all inside. He began showing everybody to their rooms, to which I ended up in a double with Paul. I managed to grab the bed closest to the window before he did, which showed a beautiful overview of most of the farm. The springs on my bed were extremely rickety, but with enough use, they should be comfortable by the day we leave.

I started taking all my clothing out of my bag and placed it in the closet and dresser. Next up was my toiletries, which took up a large chunk of my bag. "Um Paul, where are the bathrooms?"