Sketch

22 - Emmy

Dedicated to Samiiie.  Thanks for reading :)

I'm stupidly excited as we drive to Walters music studio.  It's about a half hour away from the flat and I'm sitting next to Ollie, staring out of the window at the passing buildings with a huge grin on my face.  Vince is driving and Sam's in the front, probably glaring out of the window like the moody sod he is.  I used his mug again this morning.

We pull up outside of a huge brownstone building.  It's not as posh as the block of flats but it's still impressive.  Big windows and automatic doors.  The sign welcomes people to Walters recording studio in shiny silver letters.

"Do you reckon  that's real silver?" I ask before I can stop myself.

Sam mutters something as he passes me but Ollie smiles.

"You never know."

I smile. "I'll try to think before I speak," I say, pointing at Sam's back as he disappears into the building.

"I wouldn't worry about it," he assures me.  "I reckon he secretly likes it."

I laugh and follow him through the glass doors.  My Converse squeak on the polished floor of the lobby, which is decorated with a million spotlights and fancy leather chairs.  The receptionist behind the desk, who's wearing a crisp white shirt and thick rimmed glasses, smiles with disinterest until her eyes land on me.

"I'm Emmy," I say, sticking my hand out.

She studies me with wide eyes, her gaze stopping on my outfit; a black mesh top over a neon orange vest, paired with ripped jeans.

"I like to change it up," I say, drawing her attention back to my face. 

I know the smile I get in return is polite but I still grin at her. 

"Studio seven," she says and everyone moves to the lift at the back of the lobby.  I follow, gazing in admiration at the framed records and pictures of various artists and bands that I can only dream of meeting. 

"This is so cool," I say, as Sam presses the button for the third floor with more force than necessary.

"It's a bit overwhelming at first," Ollie replies. "You'll get used to it."

Sam makes a noise that I know is aimed at me but I shrug him off, turning to Vince.

"Excited, Sweetheart?" he says and I nod.

"Mega."

"No-one says mega anymore."

I tut at Sam.  "My sister does."

Vince's eyebrows raise in interest.  He leans back into the wood panels that line the lift's interior, crossing his denim clad legs.  "You have a sister?"

I nod.  "Yep.  Tabatha."

Ollie smiles in amusement as Vince opens his mouth to ask something.  I know what's coming.

"She's fifteen," I add.  "And off-limits.  Even if she does think you're hot."

Vince deflates for all of a second until he hears Tabs' compliment.  "Oh really?"

I smile.  "She thinks you're hot and Ollie's friendly looking."  I leave a long pause, waiting for Sam to turn to me.  He does, just as the lift doors open to the sound of a ping.  I shrug at him, my voice deadpan.  "She thinks you're a dick."

Vince splutters as Ollie chuckles.  Sam stalks out of the lift and I follow him down the hallway that's also decorated with photos and records like the lobby.