Bass

Chapter 1

"Normal. So utterly normal," I said as I lay on the crunchy yellow grass of the school grounds, my arm over my face to block out the scorching sun.

"Everybody's got a purpose Vic, you just need to believe in yourself." My best friend Rachel lectured me.

"You sound like my mother," I moaned and rolled over so my face was awkwardly buried in the grass. "My grades aren't good either so I can't even become a scientist or something impressive like that."

"You're thinking about this too much. And why would you want to become a scientist? You hate chemistry!"

"I wanna be famous." I mumbled.

"Fat chance Victor, you don't have the face for it." Ben, my other best friend, sat down next to me upon arriving at the morbid scene.

"Thanks for your input Ben." I said sarcastically. He calls me Victor because I used be dressed in boy clothes by my father when I was a child. I've known Ben since I was literally a foetus (our mothers go way back) and he seems to think that means we're at a point in our friendship where he can openly insult me.

"No problem Victor." He said as he took a large bite out of his green apple.

"Don't listen to him, Vic. You're going to become a rock-star." Rachel said with a smile.

"Especially when you look like a rock." Ben chimed in. Rachel gave him an icy glare before continuing.

"Hey, how did that big band audition go? Did they recognize your rad drumming skills?"

"They still haven't gotten back to me." I sighed. "I think they were looking for someone with a little more testosterone."

"Wait, what?" Rachel asked, confused.

"Rach, I was only girl at the studio. That's the problem with drummers. Everyone thinks they're just muscly men with long hair and sweat bands on every limb." I groaned and rolled around again, throwing my arms into the air before sitting up suddenly. “I don’t have a chance. Not like this.”

“So what you’re basically saying is you have to be a guy to be a successful drummer. Am I right?” Rachel asked me.

“That’s it.” I said.

“Well that’s bullcrap,” Rachel said matter-of-factly. “You are the most talented musician I have ever met. Anyone in Melbourne would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks Dr Phil, but your oh-so-wise words aren’t changing anything.” Ben cut Rachel off quickly.

“Then what would you tell her, birdbrain?” Rachel fired back.

“I am right here, guys.” I reminded them. “Maybe I should just give up. If they haven’t called me by now I don’t think they ever will.”

As if on cue my phone buzzed in my pocket, letting me know I had a call coming through. Rachel’s eyes popped open and she started squealing.

“Answer it! What if it’s them telling you ‘you got the job’!”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the still vibrating phone. Clicking the green button I pressed it to my ear and said “hello?”

My enquiry was met with a voice like silk.

“Can I speak with a Miss Victoria Reilly?” She asked in a thick American accent.

“Speaking.” I said with the most sophisticated voice I could muster.

“Hello Miss Reilly. My name is Sally and I’m calling on behalf of Syco industries Australia.” She sounded extraordinarily bored. “We’ve considered you for the position as drummer for boy band ‘Pop Fever’ but unfortunately, you haven’t made the final cut.”

I shook my head at Rachel and her eyes fell.

“Well, thank you anyhow-“ I started but she cut me off.

“But I’ve received a call saying the producer wants to meet with you this afternoon. Would you mind coming to our offices later on today?”

I was shocked. Why would the producer of Syco industries want to see me after he basically just sacked me?

“Umm.. sure.” I said.

I think I heard a quick thank you before the line was cut off. After explaining the conversation to Rachel (who was very enthusiastic) and Ben (who didn’t seem to care) I went home to get changed.

I wore a blue patterned dress with a summery hat and white ballet flats. My sandy-coloured hair was in loose curls around my shoulders and went down to the middle of my back. Before leaving I scanned myself in the mirror. I was slender but not skinny, around 169 cm and had semi-tanned skin. I was always quite happy with my skin. I’ve loved to surf since I was little (super Australian) and had been told that salt water does wonders for your complexion. My no-makeup face looked bright and flushed.

I took the train into the heart of Melbourne city, following phone directions to the Syco building. I finally got there at around 4pm, looking up at the huge glass covered skyscraper. I finally made my way into the building, bypassing the elevators and going straight to the front desk.

My flats and sky blue dress looked silly against the professional suits of the women in the lobby. The front desk woman told me the floor with the producer’s office was floor 17 and I shuffled into the elevator as she gave me a judging glare from her leather spin-chair.

The elevator took me quickly to floor 17 and I joined the countless others filtering into the corridor. People went in all sorts of directions with determined expressions on their faces, obviously having a task they had to carry out.

I made my way through the colony of desks and found a door with the title ‘Producer’ on it. I took a deep breath and pushed it open.