Record Deal (Bechloe)

Chapter Two

Chloe's Point of View

All I've ever wanted is to be a singer. I want it all, the flashing lights, the fans, the experience, the concerts. There is nothing I want more than to sing for a career.

And here I am.

Sitting outside Ms Beca Mitchell's door, awaiting an interview. The waiting room chairs are cheap and remind me of those cheap plastic lawn chairs everyone had at one point. Except these are cushioned, though the cushions are fierce. They're so hard that they're barely cushions at all, just woven bricks.

"Chloe Beale. Ms Mitchell is ready to see you now." The receptionist tells me.

I stand up and brush myself off. I'm wearing a blue dress with a mid-waist belt, since I wasn't sure how business this interview is, and simple black heels, only three inches. The dress isn't flowy, nor is it tight, it almost just sits there. Carefully, I walk to the door and raise my hand to knock.

Knock knock knock.

"Come in." A voice calls, so I straighten out my dress and walk in.

She's wearing a white blouse and a pencil skirt. Her suit jacket is swung over her chair and her heels are left by the door. She sits, leaning so far back on her chair I'm afraid it will fall back, and her bare feet are on the desk. She is also snacking on grapes. Ms Mitchell is a lot different than I expected. I expected an old lady, grumbling behind a wide oak desk, and yelling at her teenage assistants that are getting paid less than minimum wage. I didn't think I'd see a girl around my age, even younger.

I reach over her desk and extend a hand for her to shake. "Hi, Ms Mitchell-"

"Call me Beca." She smiles warmly, shaking my hand and pulling her feet off the desk. Beca leans forward, resting her chin in her hands. "Chloe Beagle, right?"

"Beale." I correct, taking a seat across from her.

"Oh, sorry. Chloe Beale." She says.

"Yes." I nod.

"So, Chloe. What made you send you demo to my label?" Beca casually questions, raising an eyebrow.

I sent my demo to almost every label. "Your label produces a lot of successful albums and births many talented musicians into their careers."

"Well, then. I look forward to birth you." She says, eating a grape. I fiddle with my fingers, embarrassed. "Are you aware you are like a lot of other people in this game?"

"Game?"

"The game of music. Musical chairs, if you must." She muses, "Everyone wants to be the last one in the chair."

"There is a difference, Beca. If I may?"

"Yes?"

"I will be the last one." I smile.

"I admire your confidence, Chloe." Beca says, "You start Monday and you will be working with a team of songwriters and instrumentalists. Come at seven."

"In the morning?" I ask.

"Yes. There are a few legal things you need to sign, too." She says and I nod, standing up.

"Thank you, Beca." I say, nodding graciously.

"No problem." She says and I turn to leave. "Oh, and, Chloe?"

I look over my shoulder, "Yes?"

"There's a fine line between confidence and cockiness. Don't cross it."

I nod for a third time and leave, waving bye to the receptionist and smiling so wide I'm afraid my face will break.