The Come Up

Chapter 7 -Meeting Atlantic

Today is the day I get to meet this representative of Atlantic Records. Flex was underplaying it yesterday, it was definitely a big deal. He's worked with so many artists at the top of the charts and today instead of doing something insanely more important, he wants to give me his undivided attention. I wore some leather pants and a silk white top that was loose but exposed my stomach. I curled my hair and played with a little make up and lip gloss. I thought I looked nice but in just a few minutes, I would be completely wrong.

Flex picks me up in a really nice car. I loved how I didn't remember Flex was stacked. He doesn't boast or wear multiple chains around his neck. He was calmly wealthy. Something I hoped to be one day, something I respected.

We walk into a building with wide stairs that spiral up in an elegant and somewhat futuristic arrangement. We walk only to the first floor which opens up a large space of grey lounging chairs before us. The ceiling is high and lets in copious amounts of light, the light glistens off of the silver ornaments that hang from it. There are tables in the center of each of the comfortable and fancy looking grey chairs. I almost don't want to sit on them. I take a seat and fold my hands on my lap.

I look around at everyone else who seems to be dressed in full suits. I suddenly feel under dressed and stupid. I think Flex can see that I am beginning to panic because he takes my hand into his and kisses it.

"Chanel, relax." He says soothingly.

I nod but my shoulders feel like they are all the way up to my ears and I realize I've been holding my breath. Flex wasn't dressed up either. He was only wearing a button up shirt and some jeans. His dreads were pulled back in their usual fishtail behind him and he began plucking at his beard.

A few moments pass and he looks over at me again.

"You don't look relaxed at all. You actually look a little creepy. Take a deep breath." He laughed.

I let out a laugh myself and take a few deep breaths, attempting to shake the nerves. My heart seems to beat through my throat.

"Don't be nervous, i'm 100% sure he will see what I see in you." Flex is leaned forward on the table but my eyes leave his and stare shakishly at the flowers in the vase centering the table.

"Which is?" I look at him now, nerves still showing on my face.

"Raw talent, beauty..." He pushes my chin up. "Confidence." He enunciates the last part since I didn't seem to have much at this point. I straighten up and put my game face on. I'm just meeting another human being. There is no reason to be nervous. It's just a representative. I take a few more deep breaths. Just a representative of one of the biggest record labels in the world.

No big deal.

Whew, calm down Chanel, calm down.

Before I can properly calm all the way down, the doors behind the lounge area open and a middle aged white man with a full head of gray hair walks right out and heads towards us. His suit is tailored to his body and he is fit and slim. He walks like he owns the entire building. As he approaches Flex and I, I try to turn away so I am not staring blankly at him but it doesn't work.

"Ayyy, Richie. What's good?" Flex greats the man with a hand out.

"Hey, Flex. How's it going?" Richie's voice is higher than I expected it to be. They shake hands and Richie smiles with a smile that meets and surpasses his eyes. Almost like he was too happy. He had great teeth. I briefly used my tongue to examine mine. They were straight, were they as white as his? Did anyone have such naturally white and straight teeth?