Sounds Coming From Soundproof Walls

ALENA’S POV:

“So, I heard that sales in Atlanta have reached its peak.” Dad clapped his hands in glee, showing his utter appreciation for her youngest daughter. Despite being at the opposite of the meeting hall, I could easily inhale his rancid breath of Tobacco infused with menthol. (They actually sold those things?) This was really making me gag but I had to control it – only for a few more minutes, I thought. Only for a few more minutes. “And I heard that it was all because of you, Alena.” He continued.

Dad fixated his eyes on me from the other side of the room; he kept on squinting because of his poor eye vision. “Thank you, Sir.” I uttered out loudly, trying to force myself to be polite. He instituted a policy that no employee – even a family member – was allowed to call him Kurt or even Harper for that matter. And I was both: an employee and a family member. That just pushed my limits back even further. “It was a pleasure working in Atlanta.” I cringed at the words I kept on choking, pulling down. I love Atlanta, but I think I prefer it better here in the Chicago suburbs.

Today, I’ve been once again pulled out from class because of this ‘necessary manner’ that had to be dealt with immediately. I could’ve been studying and learning about different lighting techniques than hearing matters about Reverie Records. How many more things do I have to do to please my Dad? If my ears could possibly bleed, then they would’ve bled a hundred liters of blood by now. I am not joking.

“Alena?” My father snapped me away from my actual reverie. I checked the time on my Blackberry instinctively as my head pounded badly. It was 6:45PM. Now that I think about it, I haven’t had much sleep recently because of different projects and commitments. Stupid photoshoots, I never read magazines anyway. What would the media want with Kurt Harper’s daughter anyway? I’m not even that skinny for the record. “Do you think you can actually do it?”

“Do what?” I asked, straightening up my back. Oh, the pain! “I can do anything.” I said without a thought. Actually, I’m leaning less to the easier jobs because I want to focus more on my craft. Lately, all I’ve been doing are the financial statements and scheduling for each of the bands in the roster. So far only 5 bands are going to join in Warped Tour from Reverie. This idiocy is what builds up most of my time, giving me less than an hour to actually think about for my passion.

“Knowing you,” My Dad stood-up from his chair, walking around the room. “You wouldn’t agree.” He stated as a matter-of-fact. I could hear his footsteps echoing inside, sort-of like something from a suspense movie when the victim is about to get eaten by a monster alive. In my case, it wasn’t a creepy monster with five heads. It was an even bigger monster that deceived the whole nation – even his family members – to destroy them and make himself an even bigger hotshot then he really was. “But, you’re just like me – brains and brawns!” He lit a cigarette and took a dope on it. Blech. I’m glad I stopped smoking last year.

“Dad,” I said, typing Oh, what a poor life Alena Denise Harper lives! on my phone. “Just cut to the chase. I’ll do anything.” My words came out as if I was his servant, ready to serve war if he wanted me to. I’ve always hated the person I become when I’m with my Dad. But then again, it’s not like I would’ve been a better person with my Mom.

All these years, I forced myself to conform to my father. It was the only best solution I had. The day that my Father and Mother divorced was also the day that I realized that I was only safest with him; my mother led a life of uncertainty, moving to different towns whenever she decides to. I, myself, decided to live with my Father – my own personal choice. I might not have enjoyed all these riches if I didn’t stay. I also had an older sister, Cass(iopeia), who hated me for not choosing to live with my Mom. But that was her opinion. Last time I heard about her, she was pregnant with a young girl. And when was that? Two years ago?

“… settled then!” He deeply announced, leaning down the intercom. What the hell did he just say? Wha? I didn’t hear a thing. My eyes were about to give in, I wished I had a bottle of aspirin at the moment. I looked back at my Dad. He whispered something incoherent so I wasn’t able to pique on that.

The door opened.

“You called me, sir?”

Oh, God.

“Ah!” Dad’s voice sounded refreshed. I think I’m about to drown 1,000 feet down the ocean. Why did my Dad have to call him? Why now when I’m the least prepared? Dad, why are you making me look like an idiot? I want to scream! “Well, look who’s here to see you, William!” He said, looking at me with eyes that practically yells out ‘Take that, dear bitch! That’s what you get for not working hard enough!’. Dad wanted me to show myself now. Now was too soon.

Dear God, kill me now. I will not regret it, I promise.

But those wishes hardly do any good. I bit my lip one last time before turning my chair to face Bill Beckett. He wore a blue v-neck shirt and pants that fitted him a little too tightly. Is that the trend these days? They look hideous! Okay, but maybe good on William. He smiled at me and I gave him a polite nod to acknowledge his presence. I tried not to blush – just tried. My heart skipped a beat, and I wanted to avoid myself from being embarrassed.

Up to this day, my Dad is convinced that I’m in love with this guy. Okay, maybe I am still a bit infatuated by him. No joke. Okay. Okay, I am inlove with him. There, happy? But still, he should seriously know better! I’ve kept that up to this very a day a secret. Why must he play cupid and destroy my high reputation by exposing the fact that I’m in love with an indie band lead and not get the next Bill gates?

“So,” My father looked at Bill, pensive and sure. “Do you agree? It’s just for a few months, Bill. I’m offering a higher pay, not to mention more projects.” What’s this a bargain deal on the latest iPod or something? I could easily give Bill that. After all, I’m the VP. Dad should seriously give me more credit.

I wanted to look at Bill from the back, but I tinkered with my cell phone instead. I’ll be able to hear what he’ll say anyway. What are they talking about? I wondered. There’s this deadly curiosity going on inside my head. I’ve always been a curious person, which was quite pathetic because I was never really interested in Science and the like.

“We’d love to,” Good boy, Bill, conformity is always the answer. “I mean, regardless if you give us any projects or pay. Alena’s been a great friend. The guys love her.” That’s great! I’m expecting tons of chocolates and flowers.

I was starting to play some games on my Blackberry when I felt someone’s hands on my shoulders – pushing me down on a certain level playfully – going up and down. My body winced and I jerked back strongly at surprise. Bill’s hands were just at my back. “Hey!” Bill yelped, almost funnily behind me. “That hurt, Len.” He said. But his hands were still there – so cold. I didn’t respond, he’d think I’d like him if I would.

We wouldn’t want that.

Dad walked over to the two of us and slapped William’s hands off my back. The sound was so placid and strong, that it continued to echo inside my ears like a waxing sound – ew. That must’ve hurt, and William must’ve yelped at that. But he didn’t say anything, which means that he’s taking it in quietly. “So,” My Dad directed his eyes on me. “You’re leaving the day after tomorrow.” He looked at me so I’m guessing he means – me?

“For what?”

The two of us exchanged odd looks for awhile before he finally realized that I had no idea on what the hell he was talking about. “Dear child!” He exclaimed laughing, even going as far as ACTUALLY pointing at me. “Have you got amnesia or something?!” I looked at him, slanting my lips – my usual sign of displeasure. “For Warped Tour, remember?”

I felt my eyebrows furrow, why would I want to join that crap of a show? The last time I remember having set foot on an open concert ground was when my Dad decided that he loves Linkin Park more than Led Zeppelin. Back then, I promised that that would be the end of it. I’ve never even listened to any of the bands in the roster. “What are you talking about?” I looked at Bill from my back, and he actually had the nerve to GRIN. Oh, the sorrow.

I refuse to be tolerant of this crime.

“Poor child,” He said, almost like a joke, throwing his left over tobacco half somewhere at his back. Oh, I’m feeling the crack right now. “Forgetting measly things is one thing but something overly important is different.”

Yes, Dad, I’m old – prehistoric. “Just say it, Dad.” Can you stop reminding me?

“You’re going to join Warped Tour with the boys, remember? You just agreed to it a minute ago!” What? What? What? Oh, maybe I was daydreaming all over again. Dammit. I will never ever daydream anywhere my Dad is again. “I’m having Bill look out for you.” Oh, God, no. “Even though you’re 19, you’re still a huge kid inside.” I am? Dad! I’m like the most mature kid out there. And Bill’s like what? A year older?

How does that make him actually more responsible?

“Dad, I’m not a kid anymore!” I slammed my cell phone down on the glass table, feeling my head swirl with the pain of having to feel both the need for aspirin and now – a cold glass of beer. Or maybe just iced tea with rum. OMG. I think I just whined. Well, what the hell. I don’t care, I’m legal.

“Oh yes you are.” Dad said patting my shoulder. “Yes you are.”

I heard Dad’s footsteps echo before fading. He must’ve left the room. That’s the only logical explanation for his missing presence. And what about Bill? Did he just leave? I didn’t hear another set of footsteps. Maybe he left and I just didn’t know it. Do I have to look back? What should I do? Argh! I hate awkwardness.

“You don’t have to.” I said indignantly, still unsure whether Bill was here or not.

“No,” He was here – all along. “It’s okay.”

“We want you to be there.”