Nona Hendryx’s Recording Studio

“Okay Kit, we’re ready to take it from the top.” Bette Porter announced into the microphone from behind the glass window separating the sound mixing room from the recording room.

The music intro begins to fade in before Kit Porter starts to lay down the vocals on the track.

“Rust to dust.

Us to them.

Change your mind,

Change your skin

Life to death.

Weak to strength.

Cash your checks.

Change your sex.”

“She sounds fantastic,” Angus Partridge observes as Carmen de la Pica Morales tweaks the mixing knobs.

“She really does,” Carmen agrees. “We should be able to finalize this demo by Friday no problem.”

“Good,” said Bette. She is standing behind Carmen, her arms crossed while Alice Pieszecki and Shane McCutcheon stand on either side of her. Shane was drumming her fingers on the back of Angus’s chair keeping time with the music.

Nona sat beside Carmen as she bobbed her head to the music. Tayo was quietly sitting on the couch in the back of the mixing room spanking her bass in tune with Kit. Alice looked back at her and smiled shyly.

Just then, Bette’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She pressed the button on the Bluetooth set attached to her left ear and headed for the door. “Hello?” she answered without checking the caller ID screen.

Closing the studio door behind her, Bette was listening intently to the caller’s voice on the other line.

———

Alphaville Records Office

“Look, I don’t care how good you think your band is, stop sending me fucking demos! We don’t listen to them if they are unsolicited so you are wasting your time and money by leaving them on our doorstep alright?” Tina Kennard was fired up.

She listened to the response as the voice on the other line hurled some of their own vulgar insults.

“Oh yeah? Just see if your band gets signed to any U.S. label you fucking moron! I know half the venue owners in this town and if you think that you’re gonna get to book so much as a karaoke contest you are sadly mistaken. Hope your shitty band likes playing weddings and proms because that’s all the play they’re gonna be getting, douchebag!”

And with that she slammed the phone down.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, leaning back into her comfy desk chair. Sometimes this job just isn’t worth what I have to put up with, Tina thought.

After 3 years as the A&R rep for Alphaville Records, she should have been used to dealing with pushy band managers and agents trying to get their bands or singers signed on to the label. Time after time, she had to break it to them that they just didn’t have what it took to be a star on the Alphaville label.

And this morning after arriving at the office, she found her desk covered in unsolicited demo CDs from the same band that had been sending her the same demo since last week. After getting fed up with her lack of desk space, she finally called their manager to give them a piece of her mind.

———

Hendryx Studios

“What the fuck? That fuckin’ bitch hung up on me! Unfuckingbelievable!” Bette exclaimed to nobody in particular.

She walked back into the studio. Kit was no longer singing. Nona was talking to Kit through the microphone about the last verse.

A deep sigh left Bette’s mouth as she looked at the other band members.

“Hey, who was on the phone, Bette?” Alice asked. The rest of the band and Nona looked up at Bette.

Nona kept the mic switch on so Kit could hear.

“I’ve got bad news guys,” Bette said shaking her head.