Balanced (A Niall Horan Story)

Chapter 1

"Jamie, can you please, please, please, get us some coffee before the kids show up?" I asked my coworker as I walked into my small and messy office. 

"Sure thing," I heard her laugh from outside the door. She knew the first week of school was the worst week of my job. The organization I run, a non-profit for youth to find their purpose in music, has all summer to relax, bond, learn, practice, and so on. And then school comes, like a slap in the face. We go from having endless hours per day, to only a handful to play and write, not to mention working hard to recruit other kids. I realize it's hard on the kids, but it's hell here at the studio as well.

I heard Jamie exiting the front door, down the main stairs and out into the busy London street, and I slumped at my desk, finally alone in the office to handle my stress in the best way I know: loud music. 

I clicked into my 8tracks account, scrolling through an endless list of favorites until landing on an old favorite for stressful times. Turning up the volume, "Trojans" by Atlas Genius filled the empty floor. With the music too loud to concentrate on frantic thoughts, I decided it was best to fulfill some mindless tasks. Facebook was out of the question, as I knew it was a gateway to a long and unproductive day, not to mention an opportunity to stalk on my on-and-off-but-now-off-as-he-bangs-some slut boyfriend. Going through the organization's email would be the best bet.

Only a handful of new messages appeared, one from a volunteer desperately asking for a day off to audition for a school musical. He hadn't missed a day all summer, so I agreed with no hesitation. Typically our employees and volunteers are extremely loyal to their jobs, making my life so much easier. There were a couple inquiries from parents and students for me to reply with monotonous and rehearsed messages that I had written hundreds of times. But when I saw that one bolded subject line, I was caught off gaurd.

"Modest! Management Looking Into London's Music Non-Profits"

Hello, Studio B-You!

We are Modest! Management, an entertainment artist management company in London, managing popular artists including One Direction, Little Mix, Olly Murs, and many more talented artists. We have recently decided to reach out to London based non-profits that benefit the musical society in our city, particularly our youth. Our artists would like to give back, as well as mentor children who aspire to pursue music. Throughout the month, we will be sending band/band members/singers to various non-profits to meet with management and observe the daily goings-on of the organizations. We will then determine one non-profit to sign into a monthly contract, ensuring monthly funds, as well as public recognition. 

If your organization would be interested in partaking in our outreach endeavors and have a visit with one of our artisits, please respond to this email.

Best wishes,

Modest! Management

Many thoughts ran through my head, but the one I kept coming back to was, "What the actual fuck?" There were so many things I could have been wondering, or fearing. How difficult would the competition be, how long would these benefits last, how would this impact my kids - would they be nervous or excited or, most unlikely, indifferent? 

After only existing in London for 18 months, it was practically miraculous how much our organization had flourished. I came to London on my own with this dream, to provide a place where kids and teenagers could come together with music. I wanted to give them a safe place, to learn to play music or write songs, so they could express themselves with something much bigger than their fears and stresses: dreams and aspirations, and London was the perfect city for that to unfold. I conceived and birthed the missions and business aspects of this organization in my home of California, before coming to England where, in my first week, I found the staff, the location, and a majority of our resources - advertising, instruments, and several donators. It was nothing short of a miracle that a month in, we were open for business.

Few kids started coming, asking for instrument lessons or wearily checking out the space before we were able to explain our organization, which had cheesily been dubbed "Studio B-You" after several nights of argument. Essentially, our studio was to be broken down by genre, with a room for accoustic guitar playing and songwriting managed by myself and another guitar guru, Michael; a studio for kids with a passion for rap under the guidance of my friend and roommate Nicki and her boyfriend, Draymond. Finally we would have another room stocked with various instruments to encourage some musical adventures. Our common area, just outside of our offices, was designed for groups to get together, merging their works and performing together and being part of a community. It was a way to bridge the gap between genres and their stereotypes.

Once we had established our mission, kids starting flocking in. Our organization was only built for about fifty kids, and we had over one hundred interested. Understaffed, underfunded, and under-experienced, the studio was chaos for half a month, until the mob was filtered down to fifty regulars within a week. To our amazement, it was perfectly proportioned, and eventually, we had perfect organization. And what's better, we had a family.

We shouldn't have been surprised when things took a bad turn, only a couple months in. Our donations stopped, and even with all of the staff and several parents pitching in, we couldn't pay rent. In utter desperation, I started dating the landlord, Andrew. He was a stuffy college graduate who bought out and invested in offices around the city, and he was even fairly attractive. But still, a year into an awful relationship, I had to constantly remind myself, "I'm doing this for my studio. I'm doing this for my kids."

After a fight with Andrew just last night, this email could not have come at a better time. But even so, what if it was just a scam? How could I let myself believe something this amazing could just come up out of the blue?

The slamming of a cup of coffee brought me back to reality, followed by the giggling of my redheaded coworker Jamie. Instantly reaching for my cup of caffeine, I smiled gratefully at her. 

"What's with the face?" She asked me, and I realized she was now shouting over the crooning of Billy Joel. I clicked out of my 8tracks window, and swiveled the computer monitor to show Jamie the newest email. She played with her gold bangles and her curled red hair as she skimmed through the message, her green eyes widening as time went on. 

"Reply, reply right now." She demanded, her English accent thick as her usually soft voice now boomed in volume. I couldn't help but sit back in my chair, laughing to myself. 

"What do I even say?" I asked her, chewing on the inside of my thumb. 

"Just say yes, Annabelle," She replied simply, as if the fate of our organization and our fifty students weren't resting on this one singular opportunity.

I huffed, but typed out a short and hopefully calm reply, with an inquiring of their arrival. I reread the two sentences at least ten times, before shoving the monitor back in Jamie's face. She rolled her eyes playfully, then took the mouse from me and pressed send.

"Better get ready, Annabelle. The kids are going to be arriving any minute, and you get to spread the good news," She winked at me as she stood from the bright green leather chair and practically skipped into the common area.

I straightened out my jeweled headband, shrugged a navy cardigan over my thin camisole and grabbed my coffee, which I chugged frantically.

We might have the opportunity of a lifetime, but, more importantly, we are going to be visited by one of England's biggest celebrities.