The sixteen year old sat across from the music producer Tom Johnson, he eyed her down, from her straight auburn hair that was pulled back into a pony tail to her tan complexion that any goddess would crave and the infections smile plastered to her face showing perfect white teeth which he had no clue was due to three years in braces, he didn’t care he loved her look. The faded blue jeans clinging to her hips, a black ‘my chemical romance’ shirt making sure her breasts were finely outlined but yet baggy enough for some mystery to her chocolate brown eyes that led to the very soul of her being.

He was the ninth producer she had seen so her hopes weren’t very high in being signed, “So do we have a deal?” the woman on the right of the teenager asked, she was a spitting image of the girl or rather the girl was an exact copy of the woman, who flashed a brilliant smile to the man across from them.

Tom drew his eyes slowly away from the teenager to the woman, “The look works and her songs, well quite frankly no one does there own music on the first album and as for you being her manager, can’t do…we need full discloser to the client.”

“Than there is no deal Mr. Johnson, she is my client and will remain so.” The woman’s mocha brown eyes glaring at him refusing to back down.

“Than I’m sorry Mrs. Davies we do not have a deal,” sighing Tom stood up and fixing his shirt before reaching his hand across the table.

Mrs. Davies stood as well motioning for the teenager to do the same, once the girl was standing the three shook hands and the two women departed. They made their way onto the sidewalk of the busy New York City, wrapping their coats around their lean bodies at the same time while the older woman hailed a cab.

“Now what mom?” the teenager asked with a raised eyebrow as a cab pulled up and the two rushed in to get warm.

“Well I have an appointment set up at CF Records for tomorrow,” the woman spoke quietly.