Jamie has it all - depression, anxiety, low self-esteem, and a hate for her endless acne. With no friends, a distant family, and a nonexistent love-life, Jamie has made it through her twenties by hanging onto her dream of becoming a professional si...
Mr. Joe was no joke! The first ten minutes fooled me into thinking this was going to be an easy workout, but this man got worse when I started to slow down.
"Jae, you gotta put those donuts down or when you step on the scale the first number will be followed by a bunch of donuts."
Why he gotta be so rude?
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From here on out, I wasn't allowed to eat any fried, processes or fast foods, drink water and herbal teas, and no added sugar. He recommended I either make smoothies or juices with fruits and veggies if I was craving a snack. At the end of the week, I need to be down 1 pound. It sounds easy, but the way my stomach growled I knew this was going to be a challenge.
At my dermatology appointment, I learned that personal space was not a thing. I felt like I was getting acne surgery. After taking some skin tests, answering questions about my daily routine, eating and sleeping habits, I was sent an email based on my tests results on what I should and shouldn't do or eat for the next few weeks. Between my weight and my face, I was ready to become a doughnut.
Next, I went to RiSe Tower to meet with a new songwriter Melody Paris. If she isn't a good fit for me like the others I've met, I'm going to decline further meetings with songwriters.
Melody Paris sat on a sofa in one of the empty studios. I knocked on the door to get her attention before walking inside the room.
She stood up as tall as a supermodel. With mocha-skin and naturally blown-out hair, she wore a white halter top and a long bright orange skirt. "Are you Jae?" She asked me.
"Yes, I am. Are you Melody Paris?" Why did I ask when I already know?
"Yes, but you can call me Mel Pari for short."
"Oh, that's cute!"
We shook hands.
"Thanks. Have a seat. How's your day going?" She asked me.
I sat on the sofa with her. "Oh, it's going. Yours?"
Mel Pari chuckled, "You sound like me. Ever since I got to L.A., I feel like I haven't slept a full 8-hours."
"Where are you from?" I asked her.
"I'm from Jersey."
"Wow! How long have you been writing songs?"
Mel Pari quickly answered, "All my life, but professionally it's been four years. My first hit was with the girl group Luv Queen."
"I remember them! Their album was really good."
"I wrote half of the songs on their album, and they released two of them 'Summer Luv' and 'Secrets.'"
I admitted, "Both of those songs stayed on my playlist. You can really write!"
Mel Pari clasped her hands together. "Thank you, Jae. I heard that you wrote 'Choose.'"
"I did." I patted myself on the back.
Mel Pari applauded me. "Just to give you some insight on how I write. I am very adaptable. I can come up with something on the spot based on how you feel or I can share with you what I've already written... Or we can write a song together."
"You are adaptable," I agreed.
Mel Pari pointed at me, "You tell me what works for you."
I exhaled, "I wish I had the energy to write with you, but at the moment, I'll take anything you've already written."
Mel Pari dug in her backpack that sat on the floor and pulled out her tablet. She turned it on and began telling me about a song she wrote in high school. "This is gonna sound like I planned this, but I've shopped this song around to at least 30 different people - male and female, and they all said no."
"Really?" This isn't sounding too good. Maybe, I should've gone with writing a song together.
"Want to hear it?" Mel Pari asked me.
I slowly nodded my head.
"You know what the 70s clap is?" She asked me.
"No..." Did she make that up?
Mel Pari smiled, "The handclaps that be in 70s disco songs. The hands were like the drums. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with the 70s from movies to music and some of the fashion." She handed her tablet to me.
"The song I wrote has the hand clapping in it. It's called 'Home.'" Mel Pari began clapping her hands like a beat.
She began to sing while clapping her hands. "Yes, I'm falling fast. Don't care how long it lasts. Just give me a chance to do. A little romance with you. Baby! Let me take you home... Listen to me! I'm what you want..."
Based on that, I knew I'd found my songwriting buddy. Mel Pari and I scheduled studio sessions for the rest of the month.
On my way home, I got a text from Colby that my schedule for the entire month was complete. After looking over it, I text him back that I'd like to have a meeting with Deonte Way.
When we arrived to the Rivers' residence, Maximo helped me out the car and told me goodnight.
"Goodnight, Maximo. I'll see you tomorrow morning," I told him.
Then, I took the shortcut to my room. Inside, I went to the bathroom to unwind. An hour later, I was crawling in bed. I checked my phone once more to see a new text from Colby. Tomorrow evening, I have a meeting with Deonte Way.
I text Colby 'thank you' before silencing my phone and setting my alarm. I loudly exhaled as I rested under the comfort of the covers.
"I'm really living my dream," I whispered. Then, I closed my eyes.
Suddenly, I heard clapping. I was backstage listening to the audience. I heard my name, and I walked to the spotlight on stage. People were screaming my name.
"Jae!"
"We love you, Jae!"
"I'm your number one fan!"
I grabbed the microphone. "Let me hear you on this one! Let's go!"
My song began to play. Everyone was dancing and singing. I was having so much fun until I saw Ricky Santana in the very back of the crowd. He didn't look happy. He started to shout, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. The music was so loud and it seemed to get louder. I looked at the band behind me.
"Stop playing! It's too loud!" I shouted, but they couldn't hear me.
I looked back into the crowd. All the people were covering their ears in pain. Ricky Santana wore a wicked smile before turning around to walk away. Everyone in the audience began to fall over one another and scream for help. They were burning. Everything was in flames. It was so hot. I didn't know what to do.
"Help!" I screamed. "Please help us!"
I opened my eyes, looking at the ceiling. I touched my forehead. I was sweating. I slowly sat up in bed and grabbed my phone. It was four in the morning. This would make the second time I've had a bad dream since I've been staying at this house. It can't be the house, though. I keep dreaming about being famous. Is it bothering me that much? I shook my head as I remembered that I have to wake up in four hours. There's no way I'll be any good if I don't go back to sleep.
