Sasha.

Delicate fingers danced across the elegant piano keys, up tempo, down tempo, the build-a tumble of notes escaped the small wooden piano in a whirlwind. Her plush pink lips slowly opened, inhaling sharply to her diaphragm and then letting soft, angelic like notes escape.

The words to ‘To Build a Home’ by the Cinematic Orchestra filled the studio. Gracefully her fingers moved with ease and her mind escaped within the music.

Three days have pasted, and today was the day she would be meeting Martin.

To say Sasha was anxious was a severe understatement, she would be nervous regardless of the artist, it was just in her personality. JingleTown studios was kind enough to rent out a studio space for the pair for three weeks.

It had been a long time since Sasha had been in a real studio, the grand equipment never seemed to loose its intimidation. Jordan had been kind enough to offer to pick up Martin and a few members of his team from SFO directly, he was probably just as nervous as Sasha, but for so many different reasons.

The song continued to fill the room, sweet melodies seemingly dancing off of the studio walls, Sasha immersed herself completely into the music, loosing herself.

There was a near silent click of the studio’s door opening and the slight shuffle of feet, unbeknownst to brunette, who continued to work through the song, scanning the notes in front of her.

Letting the last few notes escape her she whirled around in a near panic at the sudden sound of a voice, “Sash.”

—

Martin was amazed that Scooter was able to arrange a meeting with this mystery writer so quickly, but then again, it was Scooter Braun. Within three days he was on a private jet to San Francisco California, a place he didn’t particularly visit often.

When he first found out that she absolutely refused meeting in LA Martin couldn’t help but scoff, the idea of working with this women suddenly seeming like a bad idea, but after some reassurance from Scooter, reminding him that she was in fact doing him a huge favor, he bit his tongue.

Martin became increasingly nervous when the plane finally landed.

It was one thing to work with a new creator, but it was a whole other thing to work with a new creator in a city he was so unfamiliar with. LA brought Martin a familiar comfort, one he would find at home.

After all, he did have several friends in LA that he could always hangout with, he had fellow producers he was familiar with and a record label that accommodated him on nearly anything.

The idea of working with this women was arcane.

However, he did have the advantage of convincing some members of his management team to tag along, and also forced Julien Jordan to promise to come visit him at some point within the three weeks.

As the cockpit opened and the flight staff graciously opened the plane for exit Martin noticed a scruffy looking man at the bottom of the stairs, smiling widely at everyone leaving the plane.

“Hiya! I’m Jordan Smith, I spoke to Scooter about you coming out here to work with Sash!” the man bellowed as Martin neared the end of the stairs.

Waste Matter grinned feverishly back, extending his hand quickly.

“Ah! You must be Ms. Black’s manager it is so nice to meet you, Scott spoke highly of you!”

Jordan blushed and took Waste’s hand eagerly, “He’s a cool dude, and yeah I am! I’m here to show you to your accommodations for your stay here and then hopefully bring you all to the studio to check it out…See if it’s to your liking and everything.” He chuckled nervously.

The rest of the management team shook his hand politely, as did Martin who gave a polite tight lipped grin. It was obvious that Jordan was knew to this whole ‘meeting celebrities thing’ as it took his entire being to not squeal in complete delight.

Jordan helped load everybody into a luxury escalade and jovially hopped into the drivers seat, navigating out of the airport and into the heart of the city.

“You’re lucky, the place you are staying is amazing, it’s one of the best hotels there is-President Obama has been known to stay there.”

Martin nodded his head in politeness, staring out the window as the freeway passed before him. America was so different from the layout of the Netherlands, it was almost interesting to just sit and compare the two rather then listen to whatever Jordan was rambling about.

“So Ms. Black is a song writer eh? Scooter says she’s in hot demand, something about a waiting list or something” Waste mumbled from the passengers seat.

“Oh yeah,” Jordan began “She’s one of the best out there, I don’t know how she does it but the girl has some major talent, and she’s worked for some huge names it is really crazy.”

“How come she doesn’t live in LA, or isn’t signed to a label? I mean that’s missing out on some pretty big money I would bet.” Jose Woldring spoke up.

“She use to be signed to Sony Records, but when her contract expired she choose not to resign.” Jordan began, suddenly peaking Martin’s interest.

Sony Records was THE company to be signed to, it was known for producing some of the biggest names in music, it was essentially home of the elite in music. Someone choosing not to resign a contract like that, well, was probably insane.

“Sasha, well, she’s not like everybody else I guess. She’s not really into all the fame and notoriety or wealth, I mean don’t get me wrong she does well for herself, living in SF alone you’ve got to, but-I don’t know, she’s a quiet girl, she’s a good one.”

Sasha.

Her name was Sasha Black.

—

Once the crew made it to the hotel each person was escorted to their respective rooms and given a hour to unpack and get comfortable before taking off to take a small tour of the studio.

Martin immediately kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the large hotel bed, he was fortunate enough to have been booked a suite. The room was beautiful, with cream walls lined with gold and classic cherry wood furniture.

Sighing he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell, texting his mother about his arrival before reluctantly getting up and grabbing stuff to shower, after a ten hour flight nothing was more needed.

Martin quickly rinsed himself off and scrubbed his body clean before hopping out and changing into fresh clothes, a black pair of jeans and a matching black T-shirt. Looking at himself through the foggy mirror he lightly messed with his damp hair before giving up and trudging out into the suites living room.

Kicking up his feet Martin settled into the white couch and slowly began flipping through TV channels, settling upon MTV before letting his eyes flutter close.