Finding Yourself || on hold

Chapter 14- The Art of saying 'Naturally'

Back in Olivia's POV!

Chapter 14

In my mind, there were three types of people: assholes, non-assholes, and everything in between. Blake, or Jaysen, was a mix of three. Often times, he could be an incredible pain, and other times, he was actually half decent.

But since yesterday night, when he decided to tell me that his entire identity was fake, the only thing he was classified in my mind was a bucket. A bucket full of ludicrous, pathetic lies. Everyone put those lies in until the bucket was too heavy to lift. And we all knew that one day it would spill.

So there I was, chin cupped in hand, legs crossed, thinking those thoughts as Blake's producers droned about something or another. We were in a super fancy recording studio, not as homey as the one where we recorded my covers. The color scheme was strictly black and white, but it wasn't cool like Blake's first floor living room; it was dull.

Luke was there too, along with Harold, Nicole, and Zach. We were all seated in these über expensive looking chairs. But mine was seldom comfortable, and from the squirming of everyone else, I assumed the other chairs were uncomfortable as well.

The suit clad producers were explaining to us that Blake making a duet single with me had the likeliness of increasing a bunch of factors (like popularity and such), and if it did, I was going to get signed to Blake's record label. 

"...So there you have it. Our song writers have another great song right off the press. I'm sure you'll love it," one of the producers, who had an uncanny resemblance to Tom Hanks, spoke with a monotone voice. He was standing up and pacing slightly, but as soon as he was done, he stopped. Blake stood up and shook hands with him, smiling his 1000 watt fake smile.

I took that as a sign that I needed to do the same thing. I raised myself from the firm leather and smoothed down my jeans.

"How're you liking this experience, Olivia?" He asked me as he shook my hand a little too roughly (enough to make my shoulder bob up and down).

I gave a long, wide yawn in response. I heard a few chuckles, and I gave the producer a sheepish smile.

"It's been great, sir. Thank you for the opportunity," I said, trying to sound at least a little genuine.

One of the other producers gave Blake and me sheet music that the team of songwriters composed. It had a soprano part for me and a baritone part for Blake. It was funny because the auto tune made Blake sound like an alto.

I skimmed through the notes and the lyrics. The notes were in my range, and it was a mix of all kinds- running, sixteenth, etc. But the lyrics were definitely not my type.

I flipped through the pages, reading the lyrics from beginning to end. Mouthing the words, my heart thumped in my chest. I shook my head slowly and glanced up to see that everyone's eyes were trained on me, almost as if they were anticipating my reaction.

"There must be some mistake," I said, holding the sheet music out to the Tom Hanks look alike.

He took it from me and read through it, his eyebrows (or in his case, slight unibrow) furrowed. Licking his finger, he turned to the second page, then the third, and so on. I reminded myself not to touch the bottom right corner where his saliva met the paper.

"I see nothing wrong with it. The song is a true masterpiece, naturally." Who even said 'naturally' anymore? It reminded me of Abbott and Costello's 'Who's on First.'

Luke piped in next, holding a copy of the song.

"The instrumentals will be great on both of your voices. Not too much, not too little the perfect balance. I think it'll be number one on the iTunes chart overnight." It was really hard to take the guy, as smart as he was, seriously when he's sagging in a chair with his smiley face boxers showing since he forgot to wear a belt. Naturally.