Author's Note: Here's our female lead. Readers, what do you think of Kim so far? Enjoy!
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1982 – California
KIM WALKER
At that time, I occasionally shopped around for record deals. Regardless, I'd sent a demo tape after working in this otherwise seedy studio. All I could afford back then. After graduating from college with this music degree three years ago, I moved California for a change of scenery. No more sweater weather for me. Mom and Dad hesitated at first, but eventually came around.
Meanwhile, I'd spent quite some time grinding as a waitress at this celebrity hotspot on the strip. Housing payments were still notoriously high back then, but I refused to degrade myself in one way or another. Other women hustled differently, and I wasn't perfect, but my thoughts just couldn't cross certain lines. I was too old for games at that point.
I'd mastered the piano most of all, wrote my own compositions as a teenager, and braved through more than tedious vocal coaches. Mom insisted on the lessons. Dad turned up his nose when I revealed the university major of my choice, but offered that cliché "musician" lecture. Knowing better, I've been "clean" ever since.
On the other hand, my little sister Gail just graduated from high school and stayed home to brave cold weather at school up north. Her major involved fashion design. Regardless of Dad's opinion, I've never felt more pleased. Mom visited every chance possible and kept tabs. So far, no boyfriends or foolishness consumed my sibling. Grades even soared. Again, delight washed over my heart.
One night, I'd gained the privilege of serving Morris Day and The Time. According to Morris himself, these guys had left an "American Bandstand" interview and wanted to party this evening. That entire squad rounded upper level booth seating. Music pulsed in all directions.
I'd balanced trays of food and alcohol throughout the night, but the smile on my face never wavered. My free hand passed some glasses all around when Morris offered the trademark cackle. I nearly spilled his drink while surprised, but caught myself. I offered Morris one last smile to before heading in another direction. Music still thumped right underneath my now aching heels.
A neighboring clock that fastened right over our bar itself currently read one in the morning. Miserably, my own shift wouldn't end for another hour. Even then, I'd help clean up until six at least. Several of my other coworkers caved after a few brawls in this venue and quit. We were now short staffed, but still jam-packed almost every weekend.
Yet, the rhythms and laughter echoed loud enough to somehow keep me alert. By now, I'd reached a different table. A few rock stars smoked away. I'd longed to join these guys in all honesty. Of course, I refused to act unprofessional and resumed work. My hands passed along everything from chips and salsa to Coronas.
At this point, I faked one another smiled after another and headed toward back for more order. Wolf-whistles buzzed as I swayed my hips with an empty tray through the flooded crowd. Before long, I pushed through the kitchen doors with one hand. Pan sizzles hissed toward my ears. Spiced dishes wafted to my nostrils. Bass still boomed right outside these silver double doors.
"What else we got? I'm on a tight schedule, y'all. Let's go." I shouted to the gathered chefs while quickly snapping my free fingers and headed toward our designated pick-up line. I ended up gaining two plates of more barbeque wings and glassed beers. My comrade Denise balanced the beers to helped me out for once. Armed with just one more bit of space on my own tray, I scooped a simple glass of water. Denise and I trailed behind one another and headed right back out into all-star chaos.
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This time, I didn't come back home until seven in the morning. After sleeping until noon, I woke up right back up and checked the answering machine. Armed with coffee for the first time in hours, I waited for that loud beep to ring through my living room. Not even seconds later, the beep sounded right on cue. My eyes soon widened out of nowhere.
"Hello, Kim. Hope you're well. This is Larry Stessel. I am the Senior Vice President of Marketing for Epic Records. Michael Jackson see you as early as tomorrow afternoon. We've all heard your demo and are extremely impressed. Please call me back as soon as you can with the following number..." I quickly paid attention as an unfamiliar individual offered greetings.
In that moment, I childishly dropped my jaw and held back the loudest squeal. Regardless of who his project reached, I didn't care now and felt immediately grateful. By tomorrow afternoon, I'd walked through the doors of a legendary recording studio. Larry himself wouldn't attend, but I'd meet Quincy Jones and Michael for the very first time. I'd admire both talented men for years.
I called Mom and Dad soon after crying with joy. Even younger sister Gail freaked out while expressing happiness. I'd spent my entire life waiting for this very moment. Still, my thoughts would always remember for me to stay professional during another shift this evening. Of course, there was no other choice. Despite my musical aspirations, I 'd never forget to remain logical and pay these countless as well as important bills first.
