London Harmony: Minuette (4 page)

I was contacted early Monday morning by the agency.  They had a new client who had requested me personally for a whole month.  They were going to pay almost triple the fee for them to rearrange my schedule and restaff the jobs I had originally been assigned to for the week.  Bloody hell that would be just over twenty quid an hour after the agency took their fees.

When they told me the client, I almost hyperventilated.  London Harmony!  Mind had to calm me down.  London freaking Harmony.  I wondered why an elite record label was requesting me to temp for them.

I blurted, “Bloody hell, what am I going to wear?”  I didn't have too many nice clothes, almost every job the agency set me up with was in the back rooms, warehouses, or stuffed into some back office somewhere.  But this was London Harmony, I was going to look like a ragamuffin there.

Mindy chuckled as she got ready for work herself.  She walked over to the closet and pulled out the blouse and slacks I wore to church whenever mum corralled us to come with her every few months.  She handed them to me on her way to the kitchen for her coffee.

I called out, “Thank you.  I don't know what I'd do without you.”

She giggled out, “You'd still be living with your mum then.”

True enough.

I got ready and squeaked when I looked at the time after I brushed out my hair.  Fifty strokes right, fifty strokes left.  I quickly pulled my hair into a ponytail and tied it off with scrunchies.  I ran to the door that Mindy was standing at, and holding open.  At her grin, I mumbled, “Smartass,”

She giggled and I slowed at the door and paused in my count.  Damnit.  I ran back to our room then came back out quickly, restraining my gait.  I exhaled in relief at the proper number.  I almost ran out and started to turn back just to see her holding up a disposable cup of coffee.

I grinned as I took it. “Brilliant.  See you tonight, love ya lady.”

She called after me,  “Of course you do, there's nothing for it. I expect autographs if you see any superstars.”

I waved her off and couldn't get rid of my smile as I scurried off to the bus stop, counting my steps.  After scanning my oyster card and finding a seat in the back, I pulled up my transit maps on my mobile and looked at the routes.  I'd only have to make one transfer.  They were located near the Tower Bridge, just off of Aldgate, in the core.

I reviewed the printout from the agency after I transferred buses.  It was a security building so I had a phone number to call to gain entry.  The number looked so familiar, but I couldn't place it.  I went through my sparse contact list, but it didn't match any.

I hopped off on Aldgate and paced off the steps to the narrow, one way, side street.  I looked at a three-story brick structure, four if you counted the dormered attic.  It was unobtrusive and had little shops sprinkled along the length of it.  I glanced to the other side of the lane to the modern concrete and glass structure.  That had to be London Harmony.  I started pacing my way to it toward the glass entry way and paused.  It was a legal firm, Feltman, Heinz, and Graves... and the address was wrong.

I glanced across to the old brick building and narrowed my eyes.  London Harmony is in there?  I made my way quickly back to the bus stop then paced off my steps to the building.  There was a plain black door on the corner that had gold lettering over a round blue silhouette of a building.  It read, “London Harmony”  and in smaller letters just below it, “Meetings by appointment only.”

I looked around, this was a joke, I was being pranked right?  The most influential and exclusive record label in London was in this old building? I reevaluated it, it had character, but the shops on the ground floor along its length didn't inspire confidence.

I tried the door and it was locked.  Oh yeah.  I checked the paperwork again and dialed the provided number on my mobile and on the first ring a familiar voice answered, “This is June.”  Son of a...  I froze.  Wait a minute.  June was June Harris-West?  The owner of London Harmony and the singing sensation J8?  And I had spoken to her twice?  I was such a git!  How had I not recognized her?

I felt light headed and my head was spinning.  Her voice was on the line, “Hello?  Hello?  Is anyone there?”

I stiffened and narrowed my eyes as I realized why I was here now, the woman had manipulated things to get me to help her find Minuette.  I snapped out of it and said, “Sorry, this was a mistake.”

I almost rang off but she spoke quickly, “Annette?  Sweet!  Someone will be at the door in a moment to get you to Fran.”  Then the bloody bird rang off before I could argue.

I was wringing my hands, debating whether to run or not when a gorgeous woman in a professional business skirt opened the door.  I looked down, I was so plain compared to that elegant woman, I felt very self-conscious.  The woman smiled and said in a low honey voice as she offered her hand, “You must be Annette, I'm Jen, the front desk receptionist.”

I blushed a little and looked at her as I shook her hand.  She was the receptionist and she looked that glamorous?  I looked down at what I was wearing, feeling plain and drab.  I was going to be out of place in there.  Even her nails were perfectly shaped and manicured.  I put my hands in my pockets as soon as I let her hand go, to hide my ragged, unpolished nails.

She caught that and tilted her head cutely and gave me a crooked half smile, and said into the ether, “The bashful ones are always so cute.”  Then she stepped aside making an ushering movement.  “Please come in, I'm to show you to Fran.”

I swallowed and stepped up but then hesitated.  I looked down at my feet as I shot a hand out and knocked on the door three times and stepped quickly in, not making eye contact.  She shut the door and I glanced up, her head was tilted now and her brow was furrowed a little as she seemed to really study me now.  Yes, I know, I'm a freak.  She said offhandedly, “You're supposed to have a contract from the temp agency.”

Just to stop her scrutiny I pulled the paperwork out of my bag and thrust it at her with both hands.  “I don't think this is going to work out, though.”

She smiled and accepted them and thumbed through them.  Then she made a beckoning motion with her head and started walking.

That's when I realized I had just stepped through some sort of portal into another dimension or something akin to that.  The lobby was spectacular, it didn't look anything like the outside of the building.  It was a welcoming space that just hinted at all the wonders hidden inside.  Giant exposed timbers were the counterpoint to the smooth polished hardwood and stone floors.  There was a single podium style desk of black marble in the middle of the space, between the door and a glass elevator and sweeping staircase.  The lobby would be the envy of the Lanesborough, the most elite hotel in Britain.

There were large brass letters on the glass walls around the elevator that read London Harmony.  This was more of what I had expected of the studio than the outside of the building.  I had to grin as I realized that that was the whole point, wasn't it?  After a minor letdown, you were welcomed with something spectacular that just screamed at you, “You have arrived.”

Jen had a little smirk on her face and I had to grin at her.  I said, “Whoever engineered this contrast is brilliant.”

She nodded and said as she looked around herself, “That's its intended purpose.”  She kept walking swiftly up to the desk, leaving me behind, taking measured strides and counting my steps.  She looked back over her shoulder to see me catching up.

I couldn't read her expression as she asked, “A counter?”  I blushed and nodded.

She quickly placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “Oh, sorry.  I didn't mean to make you feel self-conscious.  You aren't the first counter here and you won't be the last.  You'll find most of us here are... ummm... unorthodox.”  She seemed proud of that, so I couldn't help but smile at the huge crooked smile on her face just then.

She quickly scoured the paperwork then signed and dated it and also stamped it with the date.  She lifted what looked like a leather pad on the desk and placed the signature page down on a piece of glass inset flush into the desktop.  The green light of a scanner ran across it.  Sheesh, everything here was meant to impress including the receptionist and her desk.

She handed the paperwork back to me and she made another ushering motion as she asked, “Stairs or elevator?  Fran is on the second floor right now, recording some work for the SmartCanvas music intros.”

Oh, I loved the new SmartCanvas, now that it did music too, for people with various visual and auditory afflictions which prevented them from getting the whole experience of music and the artists.  I remember reading something about the girl, Francine Brighton, who developed the concept of adapting SmartCanvas to music, had been just eighteen at the time or something like that.

This Fran person must be her!  So she'd be twenty or twenty-one like me about now.  That made me feel even more intimidated.  Even someone as young as her had done more in her life than me.

I shrugged and she said, “Let's take the stairs, they do wonders for my calves.  Then she added, thirteen steps to the base, twenty steps up.”  She winked at me and I counted my paces and had to grin at the silly bird when I hit thirteen at the base of the staircase.

She gave a silly grin back, she was doing a great job of putting me at ease and not making me feel like a misfit.  I guess that makes her pretty darn good at her job.  I ran my hand along the smooth wood railing on the way up, even it was finely crafted.  I walked a little slower than Jen as I counted the wrought iron spindles.

She caught that and slowed a bit.  I admit I peeked at her nicely shaped calves encased in shimmering nylon as she went. She was right, the stairs did do wonders for them.  Hey, don't judge, I'm human and she's hot.

Twenty steps as advertised, and forty spindles later, we reached the second floor.  There were a few doors in a spacious corridor and another set of stairs that weren't quite as ornate as the first set.  I saw a red light by one of the doors it read, “recording”.

We stepped up to the door and Jen opened it quietly and we watched as a blonde girl in a sound booth finished up an introduction for a jazz track by that rad Eliza Montrose.  Lil' Walker was London Harmony's latest find and damn could she play the string bass like nobody I have ever heard.  Her music was a mashup of rock and classic jazz and it always got my hips swaying to the beat as she sang.

The blonde in the booth was dressed in leathers and had her hair pulled back by a red bandanna.  It would have been an intimidating badass look if she weren't so bloody cute with a perma-grin on her face.

She tilted her head in an amusing manner at the man behind the mixer board outside the booth, her tongue lolling off to the side.  Her hands were moving ever so slowly toward the headphones she wore.  He shook his head and said into a mic on his console, “Ok, Small Fry, that's a wrap.  I swear you are even worse than Tabby Cat.”

The girl let out a victorious squeak, pulled the headphones off, and opened the isolation booth door.  Jen stepped into the studio and I followed, pausing to knock three times lightly as we went through.

The blonde gave the man a playful “ha, take that” look.  Then sort of did a jump step and planted her two feet in front of Jen and I.  Jen rolled her eyes and gave that crooked smile of her's. “Fran, this is Annette Corrick, your newest victim... I mean temp.”  Then she turned to me. “Annette, this is Francine Brighton, our resident walking thesaurus.  I leave you in her capable hands.”

She aimed one of those cute crooked smiles at me and turned and left.  I stood there dumbly and waved from my hip.  Then I turned to Fran, who was standing a step closer and I almost stumbled back.  She had her hand out and said in an American accent, “A pleasure to meet you, Annette.  May I call you Ann?”

I shook her hand as I looked around at the studio and isolation booth.  The sound engineer scooted past us, giving us a smiling nod.  I looked back at the girl.  “Ummm... nice to meet you... Nett please.”  Then I released her hand and said in earnest, “I really shouldn't be here, this is a mistake.”

She chuckled. “You are June's Squirrel aren't you?”

Ok, now I was confused.  “Squirrel?”

She chuckled and explained, “Sorry, June is always giving people nicknames. It is unavoidable, I've been saddled with Small Fry since I met the woman.  You are the girl darting around in parking lots like a squirrel leaving nuts on cars aren't you?”

I nodded and she said, “Great.  Now that that is cleared up, let me show you where we will be working.  I love a good mystery.”

I tried to explain that I couldn't help her but she was already motoring off and speaking, “I only have another hour today before I have to get back to class.  But I only have two classes today so I won't be but three hours.  So I can finish the day out with you before I have to get to my other job.”

I blinked and caught up as I forced myself to take normal steps and count.  We reached the stairs again and I asked, “Class?  Other job?  Aren't you the Francine Brighton that came up with SmartCanvas 3?  Why do you need another job or Uni?”

She paused on the first step and looked at me like I was daft.  “I have to finish college.  I'm only a Junior.  At least for the next few weeks.  And I'll never give up my job at the Archives, I mean... books.  Hello...”  Her smile almost split her face when she said books.