Chapter 2

As I roll up to the studio in south L.A. only to see one tiny little- well if you could even call it that-motorcycle in the parking lot. Where the hell is everybody? Argh. Stupid boy bands think the can just do whatever they want. Show up late. Slack off. Try and trash hotel rooms thinking they are rock stars. I slammed the door to my car and stalked over to the door. I don't drink coffee, because frankly I just don't like the taste, and then so when I am tired, I am tired and I suck it up. But this morning I just don't feel like dealing with a bunch of self-righteous bastards.

I open the door to the studio, clad with my ray-bans still on (I might be a little hungover), an off the shoulder t-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants, with my new nike sneakers and their sitting at the desk is one of my oldest friends Richie, probably one of my only friends.

We danced back in the day together and he went on to owning one of L.A.'s most used studios. I've been working with Richie since the beginning with all of my choreography gigs and just about anything I've ever wanted to do in the huge warehouse, in southern Los Angeles.

"Well, I'll be. If it isn't miss Wall, gracing us with her presence!" Richie shrieks as he gets up and basically flys over to hug me. I hug him back and we both give each other kisses on the cheeks, before he takes my arm in his and walks me back over to the desk.

"So I don't know if you heard, but Janet- BTR's agent and basically lakey called and said the boys are going to be about an hour and a half late. Ya know. They just flew in and what can you do. So you have the whole studio all to your self," Richie says, while I sign disclosure papers and such at the front desk.

I roll my eyes as Richie babbles on to talk about how excited he is about Big Time Rush. He thinks that they are the next big thing. And they are quote just delicious unquote.

"Argh, those Hollywood types. Think they can just demand and do whatever they want," I say. "Well, I'll be in the blue studio if you need me. Just send the dancing boys back when they get there,"I say with a wave to my oldest friend.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. I know you are excited," Richie yells down the hall as I make my way back to my favorite studio.

I flip on the lights and automatically feel at home. It doesn't matter where I am- New York, L.A., Paris- a dance studio has always been home to me. And to think that in about 90 minutes my home is going to be infested with dancing self-righteous boys, causes a shiver to roll down my spine.

"Well, I might as well make the most of this job," I say allowed before I set my bag down near the stereo. "This is going to be a long three months."

There is a knock on the door at 800, just as I finish going over the choreography I worked on all last week. "The doors don't lock," I yell at the door. The boy band isn't supposed to be here until 830 if Richie is right and I am so not in the mood to deal with Richie and his excitement.

"Ms. Wall, I am Janet. Sorry about the wait, but I just wanted to talk to you before the boys come in," Janet says as she walks into the studio. I meet her halfway and shake her hand.

"Yeah yeah, I get it. Just get them in here. We are already behind if you plan on meeting the October deadline," I say passing by her, through the door, and into the women's dressing room.

After I wash my hands and neck off of the sweat build up, I look at myself in the mirror. There I stand, 5"4, brunette, with bright blue eyes, a B cup bra, a size 2 waist, but a pretty impressive "donk" as Richie would say. Why I don't have a significant other, it's not because of my looks-which not to toot my own horn- are pretty solid, it's because I put myself into my work. Dance is my life and I don't need a man to make my life complete, when doing what I do already does that.

I take a deep breath and walk out the door and back into the studio, where there sitting stretching, nonetheless, is a group of four boys-not even boys really, but men- who make up Big Time Rush.

"Alright! " I yell, startling the short one. The hispanic looking one laughs at how he jumped, but when I am in the studio I am in charge and I don't take any playing in my studio. "I'm Melanie. Not Mel, not Anie, not Ms. Melanie. Just Melanie. A couple of rules before we get started."

By now all four boys are standing in front of me in a line.

"There will be no more tardiness. If you are late, don't bother showing up. You all better be here together. If you are missing one, all of you better show up. There are no breaks unless I say so. If you get injured, you are done for at least two weeks. And no funny guy business. I am not here to be your friend, I am here to be your choreographer. If you have a problem with the way I run the studio then there's the door. If you miss one practice without notice, we are done. I still get paid whether or not you boys have a fully choreographed show. Janet wants the show done by October 1st. Whether or not that is possible, we are going to make it possible, but that all depends on you boys. Also, don't show up hungover or high, i don't deal with that-"

"We don't do that kind of stuff," says the blonde with the eyebrows.

"And another thing, I don't like to be interrupted and it don't take suggestions. If you have questions, wait until I ask you if you have a question. Got it?!" I say starring them all down. "Good," I say before they get a chance to respond. "We will start with 'Love me Love me' first. Get in a line in the back of the studio and then we will start," I say motioning to the back of the studio.

"Don't you want to know our names?" eyebrows says.

"I'll figure it out," I say as I turn around to face the mirror.