“Just…wish my music would take off or something. I’m completely broke. Like seriously, I've barely got two pennies to rub together.”
“What you need is a job. Like, ASAP, girl.” She took a sip of her wine cooler and nodded for me to pick up one. I grabbed a bottle and popped it open, taking a sip.
“I don’t want another job like the last one. I swear, my hair started thinning from the stress…and my waist did the opposite. Hell, I have only just managed to get back into my skinny jeans after all the Häagen-Dazs therapy I went through while working for that asshole. I honestly don't think I can do that again. Not like last time. It'll kill me for sure.”
This time, Grace took off her sunglasses, looking me in the eyes. She meant business. Crap.
“Look, I know you’re an amazing musician and you seriously have the voice of an angel, but it’s still really hard to get noticed, even with how exceptional you are. There's just so much competition out there, it's honestly more a matter of blind luck than anything else. And I know...I KNOW you have been trying with open mic and booking small, crappy-paying gigs, but you need to seriously consider a regular job for now.
“I know it breaks your heart to think about it, but we have to be realistic about this. I don't wanna see my best friend lose everything she’s worked so hard for and have to sell off all her possessions on eBay just to put food on the table and keep a roof over her head. Because we both know you won’t let me help you out in the money department like that.”
My head fell back against my rolled up towel. I knew she was right, unfortunately. Breaking into the music business was not for the fai
nt of heart. It was a lot of work with very little payoff, unless you got very lucky, and luck was certainly not something I could count on. It would happen if it happened, but there was a far greater chance of that not being the case. I would probably have had better luck gambling with slot machines in Vegas, to be honest. As it stood, I was desperately lacking in the luck department.
“I just don’t know what to look for. I’ve always done the personal assistant thing, but it just gets so stressful, and I want to do something that will actually help my music career, not take me farther and farther away from my music like the last job did. It kills me to do stuff that forces me to put my music on the backburner.”
Grace emitted a thoughtful “hmm” before taking another sip from her wine cooler. “You know, you could maybe try to find a job at a record label. I mean, they hire office people. Or find a job as a roadie or tour assistant for a band or something, since you love music. There are ways to have a real job while keeping music in the foreground, and that way you might actually meet some people and make some connections who could help you get a foot in the door.”
“I’m not lugging speakers.”
“No, not that kind of roadie! I mean, some bands and musicians need someone to organize all the admin aspects of their tours–and believe me, there's a lot. You remember when I was dating that drummer from the heavy metal band? I mean, they weren't that popular, but even on their tour, there was a mountain of tasks to get through just to get everything organized. Musicians need reliable, disciplined people who are good organizers, and with your planning superpowers and OCD organization skills, I could totally see you doing that. Not to mention, like I said, that might just put you in good with some people in the music business.”
I weighed her words, and, to be honest, it didn't seem like a terrible idea. “But how exactly am I going to do that?”
“Um, hello? I’ve been trying to get you to talk to the people at the staffing agency I used to work with for how long now? They are usually looking for office help or personal assistants for things like what I've just been telling you about. I could help you get in to see the right people.”
“Really? That would be amazing!” I suddenly felt a little more excited at the prospect of getting a new job. “Do you know of any bands that are looking?”
“Well, according to what Sheila told me, Bleeding Heart is getting prepped for going on tour in a month. I think she said something about Mike asking her if she’d be interested in some kind of position for the tour. I just can’t remember exactly what she said. You know I tune her out half the time.”
“Bleeding Heart?” I raised an eyebrow. The name didn’t sound familiar to me.
“Oh my God, Nalia, how have you not heard of them?” Grace sat straight up, this time pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. “They’re an alternative rock band. Granted, they’ve been on hiatus for the last five years while the lead singer Owen Young was building his record company—which is hugely successful, by the way—so I suppose I can cut you a little slack there, but they were big while we were in college.
“You should seriously know who these guys are, though, especially considering that they are as easy on the eyes as they are on the ears! Man, I had such a crush on Talon, the drummer, when I was a freshman. He's super hot! And, like I said, their music is pretty awesome, too. From what I’ve heard, they've just got back together. I think I saw it announced on Twitter they’d be touring soon.”
“Wait, he also owns a record company?” I asked.
“Yeah, Young Records.”
Now that name I had heard of, at least by way of many big names they’d recently signed and new artists they had churned out. And the singer of this band ran that record company? That could prove to be a stroke of luck for sure if they were, in fact, looking for an assistant and I happened to fit the bill. Working with artists of his caliber was sure to net me some decent connections and help me get a foot in the door of the music industry. And then when I got that breakthrough, I wouldn't ever have to worry about being a personal assistant ever again.
“Are you able to find out if they actually are looking for help? Because if they are, I need that job. Like, desperately need it! I can't think of anything that would be more perfect!”
Grace shrugged nonchalantly, pushing her long, blonde hair over her shoulders. “It shouldn’t be a problem to find out. I got you, girlie. I’ll make a few calls when we get back. Now, you ready for some surfing?” She put her sunglasses down on the blanket with her phone and wrapped them up before she hopped up, grabbing her board as she did. I followed suit, grabbing my own board. We’d both loved surfing ever since we were little kids.
“Yes, definitely ready to catch a few waves,” I said, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. Both of us headed for the water. I sighed happily, optimistic for the first time in weeks as the water lapped over my feet and the sounds of crashing waves grew louder in my ears. One of my favorite places to be was in the ocean. I was with my best friend, and the job prospect was looking a little brighter. Things were looking up.
Once we reached a certain point, we climbed on our boards and started paddling out. Grace smiled, looking over at me as she took note of the size of some of the approaching waves. It was a good day to be out. When we got out far enough, we turned around, waiting for a good wave. When one came, we caught it and rode it out back to shore. I tried to show off a little, but Grace showed me up, as usual. Of the two of us, she was the better surfer, though she didn’t look the part, being such a girlie girl.
She was the essence of what you’d expect a gorgeous actress to be—beautiful, with bright, blue eyes and a perfect figure. She was an actress on a daytime soap opera, and her character on the show was even girlier than she was in real life. I doubted most of her fans would be able to picture her riding waves. Growing up, on more than one occasion, we’d gotten some condescending comments from idiot surfer boys…that was, until they saw her actually surf.
“Again?” she called over, whipping her wet hair out of her face and adjusting her bikini. I nodded, and we turned around starting the journey all over again. We did this for a while until our muscles grew tired of paddling out. That’s when we headed back to shore to lay out in the sun a little more.
I laid my board in the sand, then dried off some before spraying a coat of sunscreen on. I tanned easily, rarely ever burning, so my skin had a nice, honey color, but sunscreen was still a priority as often as I was in the sun. Oddly enough, that was one thing my little, blonde waif of a friend envied about me. She had to practically bathe in sunscreen to keep from getting burnt. I pulled on the hair tie and let my long, brown hair free, trying to untangle some of the wet, wavy tresses.
“So, you really think that job could be a possibility?” I asked before I even situated myself back onto my towel. “More importantly, do you think touring with a bunch of dudes is even a good idea? I mean, you know what kind of reputation rock bands have with the way they treat women, especially when they're on tour.”