Chapter 2: Please, Please, Please
July 17, 2008
Okay, so this isn't exactly the fairy tale job I envisioned.
"Jude Harrison!" Shit. Jude slowly turned on her heels, praying that the person who usually matched that booming voice wouldn't be standing directly behind her. Her suspicions were, sadly, confirmed. Darius Mills' muscular form towered over Jude's, and the scowl on his face was a sure sign of trouble ahead. "Those shirts I asked for better be pressed and lying on my desk when I walk into my office in two minutes."
Though I could retort with something that'd make George Carlin blush, I'll keep my thoughts to myself only because I so can't afford to get fired right now. "You will definitely find them there, sir." Jude's secretarial position at G-Major wasn't the greatest job in the world, but she didn't really have any other offers at present. It was in her best interest to remain on Darius' good graces, if that's what you could call his normal behavior toward Jude.
"That's what I like to hear." Darius smiled briefly and removed his sunglasses, now being indoors. As he made a start for his office, he remembered another matter of importance to him. "I'd like my usual coffee and a jelly donut, please."
"I'll get right on it," Jude proclaimed in her most convincing optimistic tone. I am a rock. A rock that should be chucked at his head, but I'm still a rock. The instant Darius' office door closed behind him, Jude's eyes squinted into slits and her lips formed a tight, thin line as she glared furiously at the door. Who am I kidding; a rock has never had to put up with someone like Darius Mills.
"You know, I hate to have to remind you again, Harrison, but just because you want to telekinetically destroy Darius' cold heart, it doesn't mean you can actually develop telekinetic powers." Jude refused to withdraw her fixing stare on the door because she already knew who was talking to her. Mason, a G-Major artist, was one of the few people, other than Tommy, who took the time to get to know her. He knew how often she considered pouring ipecac in Darius' morning coffee, and also knew that she never actually would because Jude was simply too nice of a person to ever intentionally hurt someone.
Jude nudged Mason's stomach with her elbow, still not breaking her concentration on the door that made her stomach flip every time she had to open it. "Laugh all you want, funny man; but one day, when your spoon curiously flies out of your hand as you're eating your daily bowl of Corn Pops, you'll know exactly who it was." Jude smirked at her own amusement. "And then you'll piss your pants out of unadulterated fear."
Mason stared at Jude as if she was sprouting another head. "Wow, you sure know how to grab a guy by the nuts; especially when you say it in that creepy, witch voice."
Jude grew tired of staring down an unflinching door, and finally looked over at Mason, hoping his goofy, smiling face would knock her out of her tormented reverie. He wasn't smiling, probably because her empty threat left him a little uneasy, but his facial expressions were animated enough to make Jude smile anyway. "Lighten up, Mason. You know that even if some divine force did give me power, that I would never, ever, ever, ever, ever use it against you."
Mason's shoulders instantly relaxed. "Yeah, I don't know why I was so worried. You're like a fluffy, little bunny; one without rabies, of course." Note to self: never again let Mason metaphorically compare me to any animal. "But seriously, Jude, if you use that attitude on Darius, I bet he'd ease up a little on his never ending list of chores for you."
Jude headed for the kitchen to prepare Darius' morning pick-me-upper; Mason followed suit. "I don't think that would turn out as well as you think. I'd probably either get fired or demoted."
"What's worse than what he's making you do now?"
"Who knows?" Jude poured hot coffee into a gleaming, white mug. "He could force me to start scrubbing the toilets and mopping the floors." She placed the coffee pot on the table, deep in thought. "Or he might even go as low as make me sign a contract and force me to sing as a G-Major artist. Utter cruelty if you ask me." Oops! Mason's gonna be pissed at me now.
Mason huffed as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "You know, it's not very nice to make fun of other people's professions. If we were given this musical talent, then we were meant to use it." Jude had her back to Mason as she put the coffee pot in its rightful place and grabbed the cream and sugar. "It doesn't really make sense to me, anyway, why you hate singers so much when music is 'supposedly' your life."
Jude turned back around, rolling her eyes. "Mase, I don't hate singers. If I did, I wouldn't be talking to your right now." She explained her logic as she dumped two teaspoons full of sugar and three mini cups of half & half into Darius' coffee mug. "I just don't think singing is the right career for me. I mean, I love singing in the shower and my car, but that's completely different from an arena filled with 10,000 people. I also don't want to have to deal with people constantly judging what I do and say, and I refuse to deal with paparazzi and obnoxious, screaming fans. Singing is for people who like attention. I don't."
Mason now believed that Jude didn't intentionally mean to be callous with her initial comment. "So, you don't like any attention drawn to you at all?"
"Not in the least." I wouldn't even go onstage to except my science fair award in the seventh grade.
Mason drummed his fingertips on the kitchen countertop as he thought for a minute. "So, if I were to round everyone up in G-Major and ask you to sing a song for them, would you cower behind this counter instead?" He grinned as he imagined himself going through with this plan, knowing full well that he could never purposely embarrass Jude in that way.
"I'd say that would be a definite possibility. Especially since half the people in this building are hoping to spot me out so I can fulfill my duties as 'errand girl'."
"Point taken." Mason pushed himself off of the counter he was leaning on. "Well, I better go and write me another hit song."
"Alright, but make sure this one's not about your dead ferret."
Mason gasped, completely affronted. He then realized he couldn't get out of this one, so he pleaded with her instead. "Oh come on, this sentimental stuff totally tugs at people's heartstrings."
"Yeah, but not everyone wants their heartstrings tugged on, sweetie." Jude looked around the kitchen fervently. "Um, where are the three boxes of donuts I bought this morning?" There was a hint of panic in her voice. If all those donuts have already been…he better not think I'd actually drive to the nearest donut shop to get his stupid jelly donut. What am I saying; yeah, I would.
"Oh, right. Apparently employees of G-Major aren't properly fed because they made a mad dash for your pastries thirty minutes ago." Jude cringed at Mason's words. I'm really not in the mood to risk getting a ticket because I sped to get my boss his breakfast by 9am. "Luckily, I grabbed a box in time and stashed it above the fridge." Jude's eyes darted to the top of the refrigerator and, sure enough, a pale pink box lay semi-hidden, looking untainted from her view.
She grabbed the box in haste and opened it to reveal its contents. Every donut was still intricately in its place, and there were at least three jelly donuts available for Jude's choosing. She glanced up at Mason again. "I love you."
"Well, thanks for the sentiment, Jude, but you know I don't swing that way." He tipped his hat at Jude like a true Western cowboy.
Jude grabbed a thing of creamer from the bowl in front of her and chucked it at Mason's head. "Why don't you go and write about your freaky, little ferret."
"If you insist." Mason headed for the studio that housed his music journal. Remembering something, he stopped and faced Jude again. "Oh, and one more thing, Jude."
"Yeah, what's that?" She looked at the cowboy curiously.
"If my memory serves me correctly, he did say please this time." Mason then proceeded to make his way to the studio.
Jude contemplated Mason's last comment as she got a plate for the jelly donut. Okay, so Darius did sneak in the word 'please' after he asked for his coffee and donut. His strange behavior is enough to make me consider institutionalizing him, but I can't take drastic action just yet. Chances are he's just having an extremely good morning. It'll probably fade by the afternoon. Jude wasn't about to harden herself to believe that Darius had actually begun softening on her. That just seemed like an impossibility at the current moment.
Donut and coffee in hand, Jude directed herself back toward Darius' office, but kept an even, slow pace. It was these moments she hated the most. She felt completely vulnerable whenever she was on the other side of that door, trapped in Darius Mills' cage of ruin. Almost every time Jude stepped foot in that office, Darius had found something or other to complain to her about. Most of the time it wasn't even her fault, but he just needed someone to blame, and it was usually easiest for him to blame who he considered the weakest link.
Jude ably positioned the mug and plate in one hand so she could turn the doorknob with the other. She didn't want to turn the knob, knowing full well that she'd be snapped by the mousetrap, but time was of the essence and she wanted to give him his morning caffeine before his crankiness decided to break a world record. Slowly pushing the door open, Jude eventually came into view of a very concentrated Darius. He was sitting at his desk; phone glued to his ear as he shook his head and massaged his temple indignantly.
"So, what are you trying to tell me, Frank?" Jude faintly heard the muffled voice on the other end of the line as she serenely placed the coffee mug and donut on Darius' desk, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Glad he was on the phone, Jude attempted to escape quietly, before having to endure another merciless lecture on her work performance at G-Major. "No, that doesn't sound like good news at all. It sounds to me like you've got shit for brains." Oh crap! He's already angry. I gotta get out of here faster than the Flash! She turned and headed for the door, picking up her pace in the process. "Well, thanks for the update, Frank. Next time, try and get that info to me a little sooner so we can actually have time to fix the problem!"
Darius slammed the phone back down on the receiver. Movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to look up, and he saw Jude trying to exit his office. "Jude! Come here for a second." Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Double Shit. Someone please kill me. Jude paused in her tracks, pondering whether it would be better to run for it since she was right in the middle of the doorway. The outlook wasn't good in that respect, so she turned and took frightened baby steps back into his office. "And close the door while you're there." Perfect. Now there won't be any witnesses to the tyrannical abuse that is about to unfold. Note to self: start wearing a wire to work for legal purposes.
Jude reluctantly did as she was told, and then found a seat on one of Darius' cushioned guest chairs. He was avoiding eye contact with her. He always did that. It was probably so he wouldn't feel bad for blaming G-Major's financial problems on her. If he didn't physically see her, then it would be as if the false accusations never took place.
"Jude, can you answer me something? Why is it that half of my artists' sales are suddenly tanking, and, conveniently, the albums they're currently producing smell like incredible horse manure?"
Hm, let's think about this one. Maybe it's because two of your producers recently quit, causing your remaining producers to double up on their session. Let's also not forget the fact that your PR manager is a complete joke who barely has time to sober up before he has to come up with practical publicity appearances for your artists. Jude hunched her shoulders insecurely. "I have no idea, sir."
Darius swiftly stepped out of his power chair and walked up to the wall of his office that held at least 10 gold or platinum plaques on it. "You know, these awards here are not just for decoration. They symbolize the achievements made by many of my past artists. Those artists did something great for themselves, and for me. I'm having difficulty, however, seeing that potential in my current artists." He turned and headed back for his desk, still refusing to look at her. "Do you see the problem I have here, Jude?"
Jude wasn't sure how to respond to a question like that. Yeah, you're problem is you, you arrogant son of a bitch. "I suppose so."
"I'm worried it's because my artists aren't happy." He surprised Jude by glancing up at her. "That's where you come in." Why do I get the feeling that I'm gonna regret not running away when I had the chance? "Starting tomorrow, I want you to check on all of my musicians, daily. If they want something, get if for them. If they have a problem, fix it. Make sense?"
Jude found it extremely taxing to form a calm response. Darius was pushing her too hard, and she knew that she had the right to say 'no' to him and march out of the building. But she wasn't going to. She swallowed hard, repressing all the things she wanted to do and say at this moment, before a barely audible "understood" escaped her lips.
After Darius had explained the conditions of Jude's new task at G-Major, he told her to leave, which she was more than happy to do. Walking out of his office and closing the door behind her, she momentarily paused in thought. Well, I definitely didn't hear a 'please' this time. Must have been a slip of the tongue this morning; Darius hasn't changed at all. Jude released the doorknob and walked away, wanting to find Tommy as soon as possible so he could listen to her moans and groans about working in this dead end job. I always feel better after releasing all my emotions on Tommy.
Jude looked at her watch. It was 11:36am. She had been at work for roughly 3 ½ hours now. Where the fire truck is Tommy? I mean, I've checked all the studios and conference rooms. Nothing. This isn't like him to show up late. God damn it, I need to vent. Jude started heading back to Studio B to ask Kwest if he'd seen Tommy, when a forceful hand with razor sharp claws dug into her shoulder and whipped her around. Jude was now face to face with the beast; the ultimate destroyer of all that is good and kind in this world.
"Oh joy. Sadie." The blonde Oompa Loompa tapped her heal and crossed her arms, staring at Jude incredulously. "To what do I owe this immense pleasure?"
"You didn't get me those files I requested. How am I supposed to update them if I don't physically have them in my hands?" Wow, I never noticed this before, but when Sadie's mad, her eyes glow like the fires of Mordor. It must be the chemicals they put in the tanning beds that make her so evil.
"First of all, I don't do receptionist's work. If you want those files, then go ask Darius yourself." Jude took a few steps back. Sadie's breath smelled strongly of onions and one more whiff of that powerful order might cause a succession of black outs and bizarre hallucinations. Jude didn't have time for that. She had to find Tommy. "Lastly, I don't take orders from barking dogs. I'm now gonna excuse myself from this petty argument you're not going to win. Have fun getting those files."
Jude turned back around, but Sadie grabbed her shoulder again, almost knocking Jude off balance. "Ow! Holy Pharaohs, Batman! You're nails attacked my collarbone like mini ninjas. No more spa manicures for a while. They turn your nails into weapons of mass destruction."
Sadie rolled her eyes. "Stop trying to be funny. Nothing you say ever makes sense to me." Sadie quickly stole a glance at her nails to see if they were as sharp as Jude had said. She didn't see anything wrong with them. "Anyway, you're like Darius' dutiful servant, and since this is something Darius needs done, you're supposed to do what you're told."
Would anyone notice if I rang this fake Barbie doll's little neck? Would they? "Well, since nothing you say ever makes sense to me, I'm just gonna pretend this conversation never happened." Jude noticed a man holding flowers enter the main lobby of G-Major. "Now why don't you go do your job and see if that delivery man in tiny, brown biker shorts needs any assistance." Jude smirked to herself. "I think you'll have no problem assisting him in any way you can."
Sadie glared at Jude…again. It's kind of her trademark. "You know perfectly well I wouldn't do anything like that. I'm an engaged woman now."
"Like that's supposed to change my opinion of you." Sadie ignored Jude's attempt to piss her off and, instead, marched toward her desk to sign the paperwork for the flower delivery.
Jude watched the interaction between the delivery man and Sadie for a second. Not because she wanted to see if Sadie couldn't resist flirting with a stranger, but to see if possibly those flowers might be for her. It was a slim chance, but it'd be nice to know that someone was secretly thinking of me. Jude was lost in her own thoughts and almost missed the loud and obnoxious squeal coming from the blonde receptionist. The ear-bleeding sound confirmed that the flowers weren't for her. They were addressed to Sadie.
Jude looked up to see Sadie sniffing the flowers and smiling gleefully. I must have missed the memo about today being 'Make Jude's Life Suck' Day. Jude then heard a strange, repetitive clicking sound. Sadie had obviously heard it too, because her eyes were roaming about the building, looking for the source of noise.
From behind one of the couches, a man stood up and continued to click the shutter release button on his SLR camera, which was aimed at Sadie. "Come on, sweetheart. Ignore me. Just continue to smell ze flowers and act 'appy." Sadie immediately did as she was told. It was then Jude understood what has happening…
June 9, 2008
My dearest Wembley, the two things we thought could never be placed in the same sentence (Sadie & married), unless that sentence includes the words 'will never get', might actually occur. Her creepy, French beau, Jean Marceau Trussant, officially proposed to her last night. I admit, it makes me a little queasy and feel like I'm in the twilight zone, but considering I dislike them both so much, they may turn out to be perfect for each other. Who knows?
What I do know, is that if he continues to sneak into G-Major and take unsuspecting pictures of Sadie, I will call off the wedding myself. Jean's a professional photographer which makes the whole 'snapshots of Sadie' thing a little less One Hour Photo, but he's still weird as hell and his accent is outrageous. He calls towels 'sheets', only it sounds a little different because of his accent, so every time they would go to the park to tan he says, "don't forget my shit!" I really don't want my impression of France to be tarnished because of this guy.
Jude had spent more time with Jean Marceau than she ever wanted to. Now was the time for her to make her getaway. If Jean spotted her, he'd start boasting about his marvelous skills as a photographer, which included mentioning the photographs he had frequently taken of himself. Jean Marceau Trussant's narcissistic tendencies are vast enough to feed all of China…and possibly, half of India, as well. I will not allow him to contribute to 'Make Jude's Life Suck' Day.
She zipped down the hall as fast as she could, zoning in on Studio B. Once in the doorway of the studio, Jude politely tapped on the glass window to get Kwest's attention. He had his headphones on and was, assumed by Jude, listening to a playback of one of his artists' tracks. When Kwest heard someone knocking, he turned his head and saw Jude. He held up his index finger, telling Jude to give him a minute to finish the song. She didn't mind. She had time.
After the track had ceased, Kwest removed his headphones from his ears, allowing them to dangle around his neck. "What's up, Jude?"
"Hey, Kwest. I was just wondering if you've seen Tommy at all today. I've been looking for him for hours now." Jude innocently pleaded to Kwest.
"Actually, yeah." Kwest thought for a minute. "Last time I checked, he was in the basement looking through some old albums."
Of course. The one place I choose not to look for him. Jude smiled her award-winning smile. "Thanks, Kwest. You're a lifesaver." She retraced her steps back out into the hallway. Gliding down the hall toward the stairs, Jude couldn't resist the urge to smile. Finally seeing Tommy would be the first good thing to happen to her today. No Sadie or Jean Marceau or Darius. Oh shit! Darius is coming this way. Don't freak out, just…run away. Yeah, that's a great idea.
Jude darted through the door nearest to her. She didn't want to get conned into doing something else utterly ridiculous and time consuming. She closed the door behind her and leaned her ear against it, waiting for a sign that she was safe. Darius' deep voice echoed against the door, but then grew fainter with every passing second. She was in the clear.
Finally able to relax, Jude pushed off of the door and turned around. Sinks were to her right, urinals to her left. What the hell is wrong with me today? I mean, really? The men's bathroom was not the most ideal hiding place from Darius. Well, at least no one else is here, otherwise that would be…
Jude's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door swiftly opening. A man had walked in and Jude instantly recognized him as the intern Darius hired a week ago. Upon seeing Jude, the intern froze in his steps, wide-eyed. Please don't quit because I freaked you out. I really don't want Darius to be able to accurately place blame on me for once.
The intern didn't know what to say and neither did Jude. She did, however, decide to say something to hopefully loosen the awkward tension. "Um, hi."
Hearing this, the intern's expression turned to confusion. I think his name is Larry. He went back to open the door and did a double take, looking back and forth between the writing on the door and Jude, clearly trying to make a connection. No, now I remember. It's Barry. Jude didn't want to spend the next hour trying to assure the kid that he was sane, so she chose to just end the charade. "Well, I'm gonna go now." She headed for the door and, before exiting, took one last look at Barry, the intern. "Good talk."
Jude bolted out of the men's room like a speeding bullet, not caring to pay attention anymore to whether or not her mortal enemies were nearby. Nothing was going to stop her from seeing Tommy. She finally made it to the stairs and slid down the railings to get to her destination faster. Once in the basement, she turned the corner and found what she had been searching for.
Tommy was crouched on the ground looking through a crate with old CDs and cassette tapes. He was so transfixed on whatever it was he was doing that he didn't see Jude slowly approaching. She stood off to the side and leaned against a beam, perfectly content with just watching him. Just seeing Tommy had lifted a portion of the huge and unbearable weight off of her shoulders.
Tommy was searching for a specific album he had in his hand earlier. He couldn't remember where he last placed it. Glancing around the floor, he finally spotted it, strategically positioned underneath an Ataris demo. It was when he physically picked up the CD that his eyes took in a pair of familiar shoes about 10 feet away. They were brown leather flats by Blowfish. It was, however, the straight-legged plaid capris that accompanied the shoes that gave her away.
"I'm surprised it took you this long to find me." He moved his eyes upward so he could stare at the face of his favorite redhead.
"Don't think I didn't try." Her smile began faltering, which didn't go unnoticed by Tommy. "So, do you feel like being my knight in shining armor today?"
Tommy stood up and walked over to Jude, CD in hand. "What did Darius do this time?"
"I'm not sure if I want to tell you just yet." Jude played with the hem of her t-shirt. "If I do, you might go and do something stupid that'll get you fired, and I'm not worth that."
"So, quit, Jude." Tommy put a comforting hand over Jude's, to stop her from fidgeting. "You shouldn't force yourself to do a job you hate. You obviously can't stand working with Darius."
"Yeah, but I like being able to work with you." Jude pushed her body weight off of the support beam and began roaming around the basement. "I mean, let's consider my options here. Either I somehow find the guts to tell Darius I quit and then desperately beg for a job at another record company, which this wonderful city happens to only have three of, or I stay here and tough out the bad shit so that I might get a producing job that I want in the future. Which sounds more promising to you?"
Tommy mentally weighed both alternatives briefly. "Honestly…neither."
Jude rolled her eyes. "Oh, okay. How about I add in a third option: I sit at home and stare at one of the four walls in my room for the rest of my life?"
"Now you're thinkin' like an optimistic adult." Jude shook her head upon hearing Tommy's jeering comment, but couldn't stop the grin from forming on her face. Tommy walked back over to Jude and placed both hands on her shoulders. "Look, in all seriousness, I think that you should do whatever you think is best for you. My personal opinion has no grounds in this situation, because it's your life. Just do what'll make you happiest in the long-run."
Jude considered his words carefully. What makes me happiest in the long-run? Probably knowing you can always make me feel better under any circumstance. "I'm going to stay."
"I hope not on my account."
Jude smirked at Tommy. "You credit yourself too much. You're not that great of a friend anyway."
"I agree. What kind of a friend gets you a job as Darius Mills' personal assistant?" Jude nodded in agreement and Tommy just smiled. "Come here."
Jude didn't need to be told twice. She enthusiastically crossed over to Tommy and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. He engulfed her waist in a bear hug, and then began lightly rubbing her back in a circular motion. Jude felt the CD Tommy was holding push against her back. She loosened one of her arms so she could reach around herself and snatch the CD from Tommy's grasp. Once succeeding in her task, Tommy let go, giving Jude more room to swiftly create enough distance between the two so she could read which album he had such an interest in finding.
"So, Tommy boy. You wanna tell me why you were sneaking out with some Fiona Apple? I mean, don't get me wrong, Tidal is without a doubt her best album; but you plus Fiona Apple seems to me like a 'Clash of the Titans' ordeal."
"And you couldn't be more right." Tommy tried to take back the album but Jude was too quick for him. He sighed in defeat. "It's for my new artist, okay? She's having a creativity block and, well, she seems like the feminist, Indie rocker type that could somehow find inspiration in this chick music."
Jude hoped Tommy wasn't intentionally trying to push her buttons. "Okay, for starters, not all Fiona Apple fans are hardcore feminists. I consider people who enjoy her sound to be true music fans because Fiona was one of the few uncorrupted by corporate thugs, playing music because she wanted others to feel the way music made her feel. And, also, there are other ways for her to find inspiration."
Tommy tilted his head like a curious puppy. "I love how passionate you get when someone disagrees with you on music." Jude glared at Tommy and crossed her arms, thinking he obviously didn't get her point. "Seriously, it's cute."
"Call me cute again and I'll rave about how proud I am of you and all your accomplishments." Jude knew she had the upper hand now.
Tommy didn't need much time to consider her threat. "Truce?"
"Naturally." They shook hands as if they were opposing athletes on a soccer field.
"All nonsense aside, what did you mean about other forms of inspiration."
Jude liked getting into business mode, especially when it was because Tommy needed her advice. This was becoming a frequent occurrence. "Well, listening to other artists' music won't help her center on her originality. Money and originality are all musicians have going for them in this day and age, so in order to focus on the latter, they need to spend some time in a favorite location or with a familiar face. For instance, if I were a musician in the middle of a motivational roadblock, I would make you hang out at the pier with me for a couple of hours. Things like that helps invoke past memories."
Tommy just stared at Jude in disbelief. "Why haven't you taken Darius' job yet?"
Jude shrugged her shoulders. "Because I'm not a heartless egomaniac? I just don't quite fit the job description."
"Maybe not the one Darius has created, but you'd make one hell of a music manager someday, Jude." Jude smiled at his sincerity. He truly believed in her, and that was all she could really ask for at that moment.
