I Don't Belong Here

Addie's POV.

"Alright, so we're all settled in?" I asked. They all nodded lazily, except Zacky, who looked as if he couldn't contain himself, who nodded more energetically.

I looked at him and rolled my eyes.

"Okay, so for your upcoming album, I was notified that you don't want a producer by your side. Yes? Or no?" I asked, taking out my notebook.

"Well," Matt started, we want someone who won't take over the album, but someone that can help us when we need help. I don't know if that makes sense," he added, laughing.

I nodded, "You don't want someone too controlling, but still able to help you with like, the technical stuff."

"Exactly," Brian nodded. "And the reason for this is because we want this album to sound like a raw version of us. On one of our previous albums, all we were able to do was play, and we weren't able to edit anything. Not that it wasn't good editing, just the fact that it wasn't our own."

I nodded, "I think I know just who to call."

Zacky, Jimmy, and Johnny looked up at me in surprise. "You know who to get for us already?"

I nodded once more.

"Alright, cool. But…I think we'll have to talk about it first before we make any final decisions," Matt said, looking directly at me.

I got the hint and nodded, replying, "That's fine. I'll be right outside if you need me."

Brian's POV.

"Yo, Zack, can I talk to you for a minute? Alright," I said, before he could even answer. I pulled his arm and dragged him out the door. "You guys just talk over who you wanna pick and we'll be right back."

"What, man?" he retracted his arm back.

"Dude, I thought I got dibs on Sonny."

His face flickered with anger for a second, but he regained his calm posture, and said, "Brian, she's not another of one our – your groupies. She's an A&R rep, and a record producer. You can't just call dibs on her. But do you really want her that badly?"

"Well, yeah – "

"I mean, do you like her, or is it just another one night stand?"

"Well," I started, grinning, looking at Sonny's curvy figure from across the room, "that all depends on whether she's good or not. Wait a second; did you say she was a record producer?"

"Part time, why?"

I just grinned; "Ask the guys what they think of having Sonny as our record producer. I'll be right in," I said, pushing Zacky to the door.

I strode up to Sonny and wound my arms around her waist, coming up from behind. She gave out a slight yelp, and put her hand over her heart, "Oh, my God, Brian, you scared me."

"Sorry," I whispered huskily into her ear. I felt shivers and grinned; if this was all I did to get her to react like this, my flirting will definitely get her in my bed.

"Um, what are you doing?"

Oh, wow. Awkward. I released my grip from her waist and grinned, "Nothing," wrapping my arm around her waist. I led her back to the conference room and everyone's eyes landed on us.

Addie's POV.

I saw everyone look at my waist, and consequently, Brian's hand. Everyone grinned and looked at him like he was a hero that had hit the jackpot, except Zacky.

He gave me a sympathetic smile, and I gave him an almost worried look, one that read, "Help me!"

All he did was stand up and sit in another seat. Gee, thanks, Zack. You helped a lot.

He then cleared his throat and said, "Ad – Sonny, come sit down."

My heart sped up when he was about to say "Ads" or "Addie," but no one took notice. I then noticed that where Zacky was sitting really helped me. He sat between two empty seats.

I smiled, and breathed a sigh of relief. Sitting down, I placed my hand on his under the table, and whispered, "Thanks. You're a fucking lifesaver."

He only nodded and smiled at me, gripping my hand a little more tightly.

Matt cleared his throat and said, "So, Sonny, we understand that you are a part-time record producer, right?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"And you like our band?" Jimmy asked.

"Mhm."

"And you like us?" Brian pressed.

I rolled my eyes, smiling. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"And you wouldn't mind spending large amounts of time with us?" Zacky winked.

I laughed, "Where is this going?"

"Would you…like to be our producer?" Johnny asked. Matt added, "Don't feel pressured to answer now, though; we'd understand if you want time to think it over, and – "

"Sure," I smiled. "I mean, you know, you're nice guys, I like your music, and your taste in music, and I think we'd be pretty compatible together."

"Sweet," Brian grinned, nodding his head.

"Alright, it's getting a little late, and you just got back from tour. You might want to be heading back to Huntington now. I'll give you guys my number and you have to give me yours. Call me if you have any questions concerning the new album, or if you have any questions in general," I smiled, gathering my stuff.

I pulled out a business card from my bag, and realized it was one that labeled me as an "A&R" rep.

"Oops," I mumbled. I reached in and pulled out the one that read "Record Producer."

Then, I realized that it had my full name on it. "Fuck that," I mumbled, searching for a piece of paper.

"Um, here. This is my A&R and Record Producer office numbers. Take both, just in case," I said, handing the messily scribbled numbers on notebook paper to Matt.

"Can you guys write your names and cell phone numbers on here?" I said, getting a piece of blank printing paper.

They all nodded and said, "Sure," or "No problem."

Once all of their names and numbers were written down, I immediately saved them onto my phone, knowing that sooner or later, if I didn't save it, I would lose the contact information.

I said bye to Kitty at the reception desk, and said, "I have a new project!"

She grinned at me, and said, "Who is it?"

"Avenged Sevenfold," I laughed, about to head out the door.

"Oh, I love their music! Not to mention, most of them are pretty hot."

I laughed even more, and waved bye to her one last time, heading out the door.

As I closed the car door, something buzzed in my bag. "What the fuck?" I mumbled.

1 New Message. Memory is Low.
Hey, sonny. Its me, brian. I have a question "in general": do you want to go out for dinner sometime?
From: Brian
5:52pm 6/12/08

Well, fuck.