Sasha.

“You look absolutely ravishing today.”

Sasha snorted, glaring at Jordan through the computer screen, “What do you want Jordy?”

“Can’t I just pay you a compliment without you thinking I’m suggesting something?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Geez, okay fine I need a huge favor.”

Sasha rolled her eyes, hugging her knee’s to her chest picking up her bowl of steaming oatmeal. Typical Jordan, it was always painfully obvious when he wanted something. Taking a bite of her food she raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.

“Okay look, Scooter reached out to last night and said it was really important and that a client of his needed help working on a track ASAP. You know Scooter Sash, he doesn’t just ask for help unless he actually needs it.”

This was true, Scott Braun was notorious for being as self sufficient as they come, known for managing the elite in Hollywood. In fact it was rare Scooter ever personally reached out, usually it was whatever producer working with the artist that made contact.

“So what’s the problem?”

“One of his artists has a deadline, he has a month before his single releases, yet he’s barely finished the track, I guess he doesn’t know were to take it or some shit, so he’s asking you to give your two cents.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a producer or engineer, I just write lyrics.”

“True, but let’s not pretend you don’t have a hand in mixing, you’ve done it before, who knows, maybe the kid just needs to lay down some vocal work and call it a day, I’m just relaying the message.”

Sasha shrugged, she wasn’t sure how she felt about being a potential muse for whoever it was she was going to work with, but in the same token, the idea of having more freedom when working on a track was appealing.

“I mean I guess I could push something out.”

“There’s one more thing Sash.”

Jordan’s eyes winced in preparation for what he was about to say, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably in his seat he looked straight into her green eyes.

“You uh, have to meet with him, in person to you know, get this finished.”
Sasha froze, a million thoughts invading her mind all at once. Surely Sasha had met with artists before, it wasn’t common practice, but at Sony Records they enjoyed the interaction between artists, writers and producers, however, the luxury and appeal of being a free agent was the idea of working within the confounds of her home.

“I am not going to LA Jordy.”

Jordan sighed, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration, he was prepared for this, he knew how timid she was and frankly couldn’t blame her, LA was nothing but a city full of the wannabe artists and lost souls, it was not a place to settle down.

“I know, I know you Sash, I’m trying to work something out with Scott, I was thinking maybe, if I was able to-book a studio in the city for a month and he can just fly out and stay in SF? It’s not ideal, but it’s his only option.”

Sasha hated to be difficult, she hated being a burden, and the last thing she wanted to be known as in the industry was ‘difficult’.

“When would he be flying out?”

“Three days, Scooter’s trying to send him out as soon as possible, since the deadline is approaching and everything.”

“Alright, yeah, I’ll do it.” Sasha breathed, setting her bowl down and rubbing her temples softly.

Jordan’s face lit up in delight, quickly, he rushed to thank her a million times over, picking up his phone beside his computer rushing to call Scooter to tell him the good news.

“Wait, Jordy, who will I be working with?”

“Martin Garrix, the EDM DJ.”

—

Sasha pulled her her brown locks away from her face, up into a messy ponytail. Adjusting her sweater and settling deeply into her grey couch Sasha opened up her Mac, opening the Spotify app, vigorously typing into the search bar.

Martin Garrix.

Breathing out, Sasha toggled over the shuffle button and listened patiently as EDM filled her apartment. She sat in silent for a few moments, absorbing the every beat, drop and melody that flowed through the tiny speakers.

He was good, very good in fact.

The familiar tune of animals began to play, she instantly recognized it, and for a moment was impressed that the man she was about to work with was the same man who created such a hit.

She let the playlist continue as she entered her kitchen and began making herself a small dinner. She began to bob her head to the beat as she chopped up vegetables and boiled brown rice, letting herself slowly release to the beat.

Whilst the food began to cook Sasha found herself dancing foolishly, allowing herself to let go and be free. Any tension or embarrassment vanished, humming along and even singing loudly to tracks like ‘Don’t Look Down’.

For being as successful and powerful as she was within her industry of choice, Sasha was nothing short of self conscious. Ever since she was a young child Sasha was always anxious. When she was six years old her family moved from their home in Marseille, France to San Francisco, California.

Maybe it was because she couldn’t speak English, or maybe it was because she was a skinny, lanky, girl with big green eyes and a pouty face that gave the impression that she was an easy target, but from very early on Sasha was ruthlessly bullied.

She was too thin, no curves.

She wore glasses.

She couldn’t speak English.

And when she finally could, she couldn’t speak English without a thick accent.

She didn’t have the right clothes.

And finally, because she wouldn’t speak at all.

Through the years, as Sasha grew, so did her displeasure for attention. Her experience interpreted attention as negative, so as time passed Sasha realized that as she hung out in the shadows, people didn’t seem to bother her. It was better that way.

In college she had made a few friends, nothing to serious, and even had her first boyfriend. He was cute, a good mannered fellow named Will who treated her well. For a year and a half they were attached at the hip, and for once she felt like she had connected with someone.

Though the connection was relatively superficial, and the relationship mirrored more of a friendship, so the two peacefully went their separate ways, occasionally sending the odd ‘how are you?’ text each others way.

In many ways Sasha didn’t feel as though she was anything special, and although she could write some of the most complex, compassionate, and divine love songs to date, she simply couldn’t relate.

Inspiration was drawn from books and movies, the idea of romance fascinated her, however, that’s all it ever was to Sasha-an idea.

Collecting her vegetables and rice, Sasha ate silently at her small dining room table, the music continuing to fill her apartment, she hummed though her bites imagining the track and what a guy like Martin Garrix would want with her expertise.

Three days.