Save the Day

“Morgan, you better love me forever.”

I smiled and glanced at my uncle as he walked through the kitchen archway. “And why would that be Uncle John?”

“Because I just got you a job for this summer,” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Oh goody,” I said sarcastically. “Just what I wanted: to spend my summer waking up early and having someone yell at me every day. Fantastic.”

“I’m pretty sure I won’t yell at you – not every day at least.” He countered, a smile still tugging at his lips.

Now I was confused, “What are you talking about?”

Uncle John sat next to me on the couch and explained. “What I mean is that I talked to my boss and convinced him to let you be my paid intern this summer.”

“Are you kidding me?! That’s fantastic!” I exclaimed; a massive smile on my face as I pounced on my uncle, grabbing him in a hug. “Thank you so much Uncle John. When do I start?” I asked in excitement.

He laughed and glanced at his watch, “In about an hour. We leave in thirty.”

“Minutes?!” I yelled, looking at my attire (which was still my pajamas from last night) and frantically ran upstairs to change.

I quickly ran into my room and threw clothes around, trying to find something suitable for the ‘workplace’. “Can you believe it Mom? I’m going to be working with Uncle John.” I said breathlessly into the air as I decided between a blue and black blouse.

In record time (twenty nine minutes) I was finished getting ready and walked out the door, following Uncle John to his silver Porsche that sat in the driveway.

Uncle John works as a producer for some record company but never talks about his work – ever. Not that I’d recognize the bands anyway. I’m not really (at all) into pop music, alternative is more my style. I’ve always have had a passion for music, it’s the only constant thing I’ve ever had in my entire life. It was stable, it was calming, it was art.

Shortly after getting in the car, he pulled up to the Starbucks drive-thru and ordered us coffee. “Trust me,” He said, handing me the cup. “You’re going to need this.”

I just nodded and sipped the scolding hot liquid, trying to ignore the bitter, disgusting taste as Uncle John drove through the Los Angeles streets. Four months ago, who would’ve thought I’d be here? I know I sure didn’t.

I sighed before taking a sip of the coffee and turned to my uncle, “So what will I be doing?” I asked curiously.

He shrugged, “Mostly just doing some random small jobs here and there. Every once in a while I’ll ask your advice. You have a good ear Morgan, I’ll try and put it to good use.”

“Thanks,” I said deciding to take it as a compliment. “So what’s on today’s agenda?”

He smirked and took a side glance at me, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

I huffed and crossed my arms across my chest, but didn’t push the matter any further. He simply laughed and turned on the radio to the pop station. I just closed my eyes as the melodic tones of some over produced song flowed through the speakers. Hopefully, this wasn’t what I was going to be hearing all summer.

About fifteen minutes later, we pulled into a parking spot in the garage next to a large, square, metal building. It had to be at least twenty stores high. We walked right through the doors, past security, and waited for an elevator. Every woman I saw around me had some form of blonde hair, pumps, and a formfitting business suit. I felt really out of place in my navy blue blouse, black pants, high heeled boots, and wavy brown hair.

We rode in the elevator to the sixteenth floor silently, each of us enjoying the last few minutes of quiet we would have all day. I followed Uncle John down a few hallways before he stopped in front of a door. “Morgan, welcome to my office.” He said opening the door revealing a large room separated into three parts. There was the full band studio with every instrument imaginable inside and then a smaller single person recording booth next to it. These both were separated by a large glass wall where, on the other side, were all the controls.

“I think I’m in heaven,” I said as I walked over to the controls, my fingertips gently grazing them carefully, trying not to move any of them.

Uncle John laughed, “That’s good to hear. We’ll be spending a lot of time in here. I had to push back a CD for one of the bands I work with back a few months because of the… incident. We have to record, cut, and mix the record in a month before, they go on tour.”

My face dropped but I nodded. I stepped down from the control booth and walked over to him. “So, what do you want me to do boss?” I asked, smiling.

He laughed, “Formalities aren’t necessary Morgan. You’re not going to get a raise.” He pulled out sheets of music from his messenger bag. “Make ten copies of each page and do NOT mix them up in any way. If the order is messed p, we’ll both hear it. Now go, the band will be here soon.” He said, handing me the stack of papers and pushed me out the door.

“Wait,” I said and turned towards him. “Two questions. One, do you want separate piles of the copied set or just like ten copies of page one on top of ten copies of page two, etcetera?”

“Piles,”

“Second, where is the copier?” I asked sheepishly. Uncle John just laughed and pointed me in the right direction.