Trixie and The Jets

Chapter One

Her eyes slightly opened as the bright sun hit her bedroom for the first time in the last ten hours, nearly leaving her blind. Trixie didn't even have to focus on the figure in front of her bed to know it was her mother. Standing as if she was the busiest woman on earth, tapping her feet impatiently on the wooden floor, making it creak. Her right arm hurt like hell when she propped herself on it to sit up. She let out a deep breath as she cracked her neck and back. A couple of years ago she would've been up and vertical the second her mother woke her up, but with age, the fear of her mother died slowly. The constant little squeak the wood released every time her mother tapped her foot was driving her completely insane. 

"Could you stop tapping your foot on the floor?" It came off meaner than expected.

"Could you wake up at a decent hour?" Her mother huffed and rolled her eyes. "This came in the mail for you." She handed the off-white envelope.

"Thanks," Trixie said as she rubbed her eye, leaving the envelope on her bedside table and walking towards the bathroom.

Trixie hated having to share her living space with that woman, who she has to call her mother. She knows very well that there is no perfect parent, but it's as if hers never tried. Every day she woke up and could feel the heavy weight of her mother's gaze waiting for her to get a husband and leave. A knot formed in the inside of her throat as she brushed her teeth. Husband. She exhaled through her nose and spat the bubbling minty foam on the sink. Trixie just hoped she could find a cheap way out of her home, and if it was possible a way she loved. It was a cheesy phrase, but Trixie wanted to find a job that she loved, so she wouldn't feel like she was working a day in her life.

She hang up the towel after drying the water that she splashed on her face, walking out of the bathroom into her room. She took a look at the envelope and squinted her eyes to make sure what she was reading was real. The envelope was signed with a stamp from Warner Music. Trixie pinched her arm to make sure she wasn't in a dream, it hurt, it was real. She let out a high-pitched scream as she jumped, quickly opening the envelope and reading the letter that was sent. She scanned through it in a robot-like manner, re-reading a few words to let them sink in. She's done it, this is her chance, they gave her a chance.

"Beatrice!" Her mom dragged her down from cloud nine. "Could you be quiet!"

"Look at this!" Trixie ran down the stairs to show her mom the envelope. "Look. at. this!"

"An envelope,"

"Mom! put your glasses on," Trixie rolled her eyes as her mother put on her glasses and grabbed the envelope. "They invited me to a meeting! They gave me a chance!"

"Yeah," Her mother said in a dismissive way. "Don't get your hopes up, there's a lot of good musicians out there, B."

"Thanks for the support, Val." Trixie left the note on the dinner table to make herself a cup of coffee.

-

Trixie looked at herself in the mirror, thinking through what she would wear to such an important situation. She needed to leave a mark, a statement, she needed to be unapologetically herself. Trixie opened her closet and took a look at her options, all of them influenced by the 60s. She had a mix of hippie and mod clothing pieces, opting for the latter Trixie pulled out a yellow dress with daisies plastered on it. It was one of her favorite dresses, so she folded it and set it aside. 

It felt surreal, in less than a week she would be in the headquarters of WMG, trying not to fuck up this unique chance. Her breath got shallow, as it did often when thinking about failure. She had to think about every single detail and practice every song she had written once and once again until perfection. There shouldn't be any error range, if not, she would've wasted this opportunity.