AN/ OKAY THEN GUYS, WE'VE GOT A LOT OF HATE ON CHLOE RIGHT NOW, AND I TOTALLY AGREE! THEY BOTH HAVE A LOT TO FIGURE OUT, AND THE ONLY WAY THEY'LL EVER DO IT IS BY WORKING ON IT TOGETHER, BUT NEITHER OF THEM ARE PREPARED TO DO THAT YET.
EITHER WAY, LOTS OF YOU HAVE BEEN WANTING TO KNOW WHAT BECA HAD IN MIND. THE GOOD NEWS IS, I GOT FIFTEEN REVIEWS (REALLY FAST TOO, YOU GUYS CLEARLY CARE ABOUT THIS FIC AND IT'S SO LOVELY) AND I FINISHED WRITING THIS CHAPTER TODAY, SO HERE YOU GO…
"It's time for me to take it, I'm the boss right now
Not gonna fake it, not when you go down.
'Cause this is my game, and you better come to play.
I used to hold my freak back, now I'm letting go.
I make my own choice; bitch, I run this show
So leave the lights on, no, you can't make me behave.
So you say I'm complicated, that I must be outta my mind
But you've had me underrated, rated, rated.
What's wrong with being, what's wrong with being,
What's wrong with being confident?"
Beca Mitchell had a plan. Beca Mitchell had spent three days, six hours and 36 minutes exactly thinking, researching and – yes – swearing until she had produced a strategy worthy of Aubrey Posen. It was going to be a nightmare, and yes it was probably going to cost Beca her job, but she had a plan. Maybe it was crazy, but it was something. And right now, Beca was working with whatever she had.
She'd phoned Demi. After saying it was complete madness but admitting it had nerve, Demi agreed.
She'd phoned Amy. The Aussie was in shock when she heard what Beca had in mind, but nonetheless, Amy agreed.
Lastly, she'd phoned Aubrey. Surprisingly, Aubrey had been pretty nice, even pleased to hear from the brunette. Beca had expected a phone call filled with verbal abuse, but Aubrey gave her a pretty good chance to talk. They discussed her plan, and Beca asked for her advice from a legal point of view, because – being a lawyer – Aubrey knew the law as well as she knew her Mariah Carey chart toppers. She pointed out several little flaws in Beca's plan, but overall agreed that there was a chance it would work. Most importantly, she'd reluctantly promised to keep Chloe out of the loop, at least until Beca got everything settled.
"You ready to do this Mitchell?" Demi said as they walked into the label together.
"As ready as I'll ever be Lovato…" Beca said confidently, turning to swipe her pass on the front door.
The pair wandered up to her studio on the second floor, and Demi dived onto one of the many beanbags in the corner. The studio was much like its owner: it was organised, fit for purpose, yet gave very little away about the person in it. Beca liked it to be like that.
Sitting at her desk, Beca printed the list of points she, Demi, Amy and Aubrey had discussed the night before. Aubrey, ever the public speaker, had then gone and linked the points using a variety of coloured pens, and enclosed a series of 'sentence starters' because she knew Beca struggled communicating using anything other than musical notes.
Having printed the points, Beca signalled to Demi that she needed to go if she didn't want to be late, causing the artist to give her a big thumbs up, before Demi turned her attention back to the lyrics on the table. Making her way through the labyrinth of corridors that somehow snaked around inside the tiny label, Beca felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Pulling it out, she saw she had two messages. The first, from Aubrey, simply said 'you've got this Mitchell – I'm Dixie Chick serious'. That made Beca smile; because, for Aubrey to be Dixie Chick serious, the blonde must have some faith in her. The second, from Amy, said 'go beat them harder than a Dingo on vegemite, Shawshank,' leaving Beca feeling pretty confused, but pretty motivated, because it appeared both girls were convinced she could pull this off.
Stopping outside the doors of the board room, Beca took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. She was doing this. There was no going back. She was doing this for herself, because she couldn't let work rule her life anymore. She was doing this for Chloe, because she needed things to be more stable if she wanted their relationship to ever work. She wanted that, more than anything, which meant she needed to make some sacrifices.
She knocked on the door. A firm voice told her to come in. Beca hesitated for a split second, but let her heart silence the doubts her head was screaming at her. She had to do this if she wanted to be happy. Taking this into account, she placed her hand over the door handle, grabbed it, and pushed downwards: it was time to face the music…
Beca hated the big wigs at the company she worked for. There were seven of them, all of them stony-faced and heartless, with their expensive Armani suits sat around a big table in a board room. She'd never seen all seven of the Execs in one place before, and she knew that all of this was just another part of the intimidation game. Standing skittishly by the door, she waited for one of them to address her. She knew they didn't like people to speak unless they were spoken to, and she knew she had to play her cards right – otherwise, they were going to fire her ass.
"So, Miss Mitchell," a man at the middle of the table began, barely looking up at Beca from the sheets of notes sitting in front of him, "you asked for a meeting with all of us today, something that rarely occurs, and we have all gathered to hear what you wish to say. So, what is it you are hoping to achieve from this meeting today?"
Beca desperately fought the urge to blurt out for the label to back off, and let her have her life back, but knew that definitely would not go down well. Recovering her composure, she thought of Aubrey, and the controlled, professional persona the blonde always presented when trying to negotiate for things she wanted.
"I wish to review, and possibly make some amends to, my contract, sir." Beca said, hoping to God that the 'sir' hadn't sounded like she was trying to be sarcastic. These people had no sense of humour, they were all business, and if Beca wanted to get her way, she'd have to be all business as well, at least for now.
"And what is the issue with your contract, Miss Mitchell?" the same man questioned, raising his eyebrow suggestively at Beca. These people didn't like the producers trying to change the way their business worked, and they certainly didn't take kindly to when producers complained about it. "Surely, we have been more than generous with your salary."
Beca almost scoffed at that. What Beca earned as a producer was definitely beyond what she could ever spend herself, and more than enough to Beca to never want anything, but what Beca earned a month was not even worth these people getting out of bed for. Biting her tongue, Beca carefully considered what she was going to say next.
"No sir, my issue does not lie with my salary. My salary is more than I can ask for, and I greatly appreciate the amount I get paid – it is beyond what I can possibly spend myself."
"Then what is your problem?" A raven-haired woman questioned from the end of the table. She was looking Beca up and down, her lips curling into a sneer and her eyes flashing her disapproval.
"My problem is my working hours at present. Lately, I have taken on more artists than I can handle, and it is having a negative impact on my personal life." Beca almost choked on her words as she spoke them; they were too formal, too stiff to be hers. She hated meetings like this – she hated wearing a stupid pantsuit where she lived in constant fear of a camel toe, and the blazer was slightly tight around her shoulders, the cashmere shirt making her sweat. Ugh, this wasn't her at all.
"So, what do you expect us to do about that?" The woman inquired, her tone of voice showing her lack of interest in the matter. "As a producer, surely it is your responsibility to manage your clients appropriately…"
There were a few raised eyebrows up and down the table in response to that. The other executives couldn't help but think the raven-haired woman had a point, after all, client matters were a part of the producers' contracts.
"Yes, Miss," Beca stammered, at a loss for what to say. "But I think you will find that as a label, you do not have enough producers to deal with the number of artists you, as the executives, insist on signing."
Beca regretted her words as soon as they came out of her mouth. Blaming her bosses was not going to get her what she wanted, and that woman was not going to be amused; not in the slightest.
"So Miss Mitchell," the man in the middle of the table began, diverting the attention away from the growing tension between Beca and the other woman. "What do you propose we do to solve this situation?"
"Firstly," Beca breathed, attempting to keep her composure; this was the bit she had to get right, seeing as though the good impression part had gone out of the window. "I would like to formally request a reduced workload, wherein I work with only certain clients."
"Impossible." The woman at the end of the table declared. "What kind of business would we be if producers got to just pick and choose the artists they wanted to work with?"
This was met with some assent from the rest of the table, they themselves knew how unpleasant some of the artists were, and were fully aware that if producers got to pick who they worked with, they'd lose at least half of their clients.
Beca felt her automatic resting bitch face coming onto her face, and did her upmost best to try not to glare at the woman. Unfortunately, a common feat lately, her best was good enough. Beca sent a piercing glare in the direction of the woman, making it perfectly clear what she thought of her.
The rest of the table were kind of stunned into a silence. Never before had they seen a producer who had stood up, even only slightly, to the raven-haired executive, and they had never seen someone so firmly demand what they wanted.
The balding man at centre of the group kept his eye fixed on Beca as all of this happened. He watched as the tiny producer ran her hands through her hair in frustration as she tried to gather her thoughts. Gesturing for Beca to continue, he took a brief look over the other executives.
"Secondly," Beca declared, this time with much more confidence, "I want to work only from the LA branch of the label from here on in. I will fly out to other places for awards ceremonies, and big meetings, but I refuse to fly all other the country for extended periods of time just to be at an artist's beck and call." The woman at the end of the table opened her mouth to protest, but Beca swiftly continued before she got the chance. "Thirdly, in the event that I do have to work away, I get to bring a friend, or family member with me."
"You know that that goes against company policy," the woman stated, her voice uncaring.
"Then you will change your policy," Beca announced, "so that producers will have the option to work normal hours in a consistent environment."
"Or what?" The woman said, her voice taking on a nasty edge.
"Or, I quit." Beca said smoothly, her tone showing that she was deadly serious.
The woman, along of the rest of the executives, was shocked into silence by Beca's statement. Sure, Beca Mitchell could be a pain in the neck, and was as stubborn as you could get, but she was one of the best in the business. And the thing about Beca Mitchell, it was that she was wanted by multiple other labels, she was in the position to quit at Soundproof Studios and walk right into the open arms of another. And she knew that.
"Well," Beca nodded, deciding now was probably a good time to leave, "I have said everything I wished to address, and hope that you can find a way to meet some of my requirements. But I stand by what I said, if you cannot change my contracts to give me some more stability, I will not hesitate to find somewhere else that will. Thank you for your time."
With that, she walked out of the board room, knowing it would probably be a while before her bosses would get over the shock of having someone stand up for what they wanted, let alone reach a decision and make any plans. Navigating her way back up to her studio, she quietly opened the door to reveal Demi, who was sat on a stool, casually strumming a guitar to some lyrics that were clearly pretty new.
"Make music when you're moanin', from night until the morning
Just tell me when you're ready and Imma paint your body with my lips
Baby I'll do anything you want, lock me down like I'm your slave
Cause ooh when you're done with me, I can't even concentrate, concentrate
Ooh, I can't even concentrate…"
Silently standing in the doorway watching Demi, Beca felt a smile come onto her face. With a bit of work, those lyrics had massive potential for a song – not only for on the album. Between that and confronting her bosses, Beca felt like she had finally managed to get her life under wraps.
It was pretty motivating, and depending on the outcome, it might have given her some ideas for the next part of her plan…
AN/ CLIFFHANGER AGAIN… HAHA NOT MUCH OF ONE THERE, BUT OH WELL, I TRIED. ALL OF THIS PROCRASTINATION IS CATCHING UP WITH ME D:
ANYWAY, JUST THE USUAL – THANK YOU FOR READING THIS, AND THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERY PERSON WHO HAS FOLLOWED, REVIEWED OR FAVOURITED THIS BECAUSE YOU GUYS MAKE IT ALL WORTH IT.
IF I GET FIFTEEN REVIEWS ON THIS, I'LL POST THE NEXT CHAPTER AS SOON AS IT'S FINISHED (I'M HALFWAY THROUGH IT RIGHT NOW), OTHERWISE, IT'LL BE UP NEXT MONDAY.