Adam sits in a room adjacent to Fosters old office to wait, while I proceed to the room he informed me of. The door is ajar, but being polite, I knock. "Come in." I've grown a bit accustomed to hearing David Fosters voice. Pushing the door open, I gasp, stepping inside the recording studio.
The reason I was so shocked wasn't because the studio was awesome. It was. I gasped, for sitting beside David Foster, behind the soundboard, was Josh Groban. I couldn't believe it either. David exclaims,"Carolyn, I'd like you to meet Josh Groban. He's here today, because your voice style is much like his, and you'll benefit from everything he has to say." I collect myself and shake hands with my idol. As I let go, I watch his eyes drift over me, seeing that I'm wearing an outfit very similar to his. "David's been telling me good things, but I want to see you myself." My cheeks redden a little. Foster pops in 'O Mio Babbino Caro'-the opera song I chose- and tells me to step into the booth. I stand in front of the mic, stare directly at Groban, and give it all I've got. As the music progresses, the corners of his mouth start to tug upward, and by the end of the song, he's leaning back in his chair and grinning, eyebrows raised. David looks at him, and asks, "So, what did you think?" Josh shakes his head and rises. "I've never heard a sound like that come out of a woman. Where've you been all my life?" Foster and Groban chuckle, while David checks his watch. "It's twelve-thirty, we're pretty much done, and I'm starving. You guys want to get some lunch?" I'd just been asked by a major music producer if I wanted to go out to lunch. I WAS hungry. "Why not?" Josh grabs my shoulder. Yeah, why not? "Okay," I agree. We walk out to see Adam waiting. "How'd you d-", he starts, but doesn't finish, because the sight of JG leaves him speechless. "Can Adam come with us?" I ask. "Sure," Foster half-heartedly says. As we're stepping out of the doorway, Adam takes my keys. "See you later. I need some free wifi." I laugh. "Okay, but don't eat all my pizza." Josh and I ride with David to a small Italian restaurant, five blocks away. The inside is cozy, with those fake bunches of grapes, and empty wine bottles decorating each corner. Hardly any people are there, which is comforting, because they would probably recognize both of the men I'm with. A wide-eyed host-he must be a trainee- escorts us to a table. He goes back to inform the owner, and I hear a booming voice, bellow,"Our favorite! We love your Italian operas!" The man had a thick, Italian accent. Turning, I realize why: it's because he is a thick, Italian man. Coming toward us, he yells a jumbled mess of names that I can only assume is his family. In a flash, seven more Italian people crowd around us-a woman, four girls and two boys. The man explains who is at the table to his wife, who nearly faints. After a picture that I'm sure will be posted on social media, we begin to eat. David ordered Chicken Parmesan, Josh, a Ceasar Salad, and I, Fettuccine Alfredo. "So, how old are you?" Groban asks, downing some tea. I swallow. "Twenty." "Really? Well, you're very talented. Foster told me that he founded you at auditions for the Phantom of the Opera. You go to Juilliard?" Nodding, I say,"I'm a junior." Josh has stopped eating. "I would love to work with you more." David-who's been in the bathroom-comes back to the table, and exclaims,"Yeah, okay, I've thought about it, and I'd like to sign you." Puzzled, I question,"I thought you were retired?" He shakes his head."I lied. If those kids knew I was still a music producer, they would've been all over me. I won't retire. I'll die." Groban chuckles. "You'd like to sign me?" Foster nods. It doesn't take me long not to think about it."I'd love to work with you." David and Josh share a grin. "Check, please."
