A Dreamers Dream

Soho, London, England

Well, this isn't exactly going to plan now, is it? I think to myself as Mr Novak clicks away on his mouse. I'm torn between wanting to regain his attention, and wanting to just give up and head to the venue.

"Actually Mr Novak, I have been playing professionally for several years, just, not quite on that scale. I mostly play the holiday camp circuit, pubs and clubs. But I also write my own music, I bought my guitar so I can play you something if you'd like?" I say slightly defensively, patting the guitar case propped up next to my chair.

I try to smile, but I'm pretty sure it ends up as more of a grimace. This guy is starting to piss me off. I really don't like the fact that the moment he realised I was a nobody, he lost all interest in me, or the way he looked at me like I'm a piece of meat.

"I see, I see," He says, still barely paying any attention to me at all. A few moments of silence go by, and I am about to speak again when he finally drags his eyes away from his computer and sits forward again. Giving me his full attention and leaning his elbows on his too large desk.

Overcompensating much?

"Look, Miss... "

"Graham" I remind him, even though he was perfectly able to remember my name just a minute or two ago.

"Right, Miss Graham. You see, this office here receives about two hundred emails a day from wannabe pop stars. Not to mention the phone calls and demo CD's that keep most of the staff busy until nightfall, and that's just this office before we take into consideration our LA and Nashville colleagues. So you must understand that, just because you were recommended by someone in the industry, doesn't mean we're just going to offer you a deal right off the bat."

"Oh, of course not, I never thought that.." I begin, but he holds up a hand, cutting me off mid-sentence.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm sure you can sing, and you certainly aren't bad to look at. In fact, you're one of the more attractive women I've had in my office so far this year, but, just because you managed to somehow, shall we say, 'convince' Mr Styles to contact us on your behalf, doesn't mean you should expect special treatment," he says complete with a sleazy wink.

It takes all my will power not to just get up and walk out. What the fuck is he implying? That I lured Harry into bed and then begged him to send that video to one of his contacts? Or worse, that it was some kind of exchange?

My fight or flight instinct is kicking in, and every bone in my body is screaming at me to just leave. Still, as Harry set up this meeting, the least I can do is stick it out until this guy dismisses me, which, judging by the look on his face, won't take much longer.

"I didn't ask Har... Mr Styles to contact you. He procured a video of me singing in a BAR" I add emphatically, wanting to ensure this guy understands there was no funny business involved. "And sent it along to your colleague without my knowledge. I don't expect any special treatment" I say as calmly as I can manage, I try and keep eye contact, but this guys stare is even more intimidating than Harry's. By the end of my sentence, my eyes have shifted to focus on a dark red knot in the surface of the shiny wooden desk.

"Sure, you didn't. Ok, ok, well I guess you're here now, we might as well hear what you've got" He says, nodding towards my guitar case.

I stand and have to bend over slightly to remove my guitar from its case, and I can actually feel his beady eyes zeroing in on my arse. I have to suppress yet another shudder as I hear something that sounds like a hum of approval escape his lips, but at that moment, a light knock at the door interrupts us. Thank god for that.

"Your coffee Mr Novak. And your muffin" the tall blonde from earlier states and she pushes open the door and places a small tray in front of us. She leaves the room without waiting to be thanked or even really acknowledged, which just adds to the image I have in my mind of what kind of a man Mr Novak really is.