Syncopated Rhythm

By Erik Schubach

Self publishing

P.O. Box 523

Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026

Cover Photo
© 2014
White Room / ShutterStock.com license

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties.  Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.

This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Manufactured in the United States of America

FIRST EDITION

ISBN 978-0-9911072-2-3

I was still trying to figure out what I was doing there.

So there I was, Kylee Nelson, aspiring filmmaker from Post Falls, Idaho, production intern at the Art in Motion studios in Seattle.  It was almost overwhelming.  The closest thing I have ever seen to a big city was across the border in Washington, a twenty five minute drive to Spokane.

Spokane was tiny compared to Seattle!  There are so many people here, and all the cities are so packed together that I never knew when I left one and went into another.  I hear you can drive the entire length of Puget Sound and never leave the urban landscape.  I want to try that one day.  Going from a town of just over twenty five thousand people to this was a heck of a culture shock, but an exciting one!

I'm pretty much a gamer girl geek who has enjoyed media of all kinds since I was little.  So I had big plans, I was going to make superhero and action movies that would entertain the world!  Ok, stop laughing, I was young.  But hey, film making has been my dream and it still hasn't changed.  Nobody bothered telling me the realities of how hard it was to break into the industry, let alone be allowed behind the camera to actually direct.

But I was determined, after graduating high school I went directly into college and took every course imaginable that would apply to acquiring my dream.  Six grueling years later I got my masters in Fine Arts for Cinematography.  As a student I won five separate Indie Film awards for my short film projects for school.

After a year of sending in applications to every studio I could find, while working at Millie's Espresso Barn, I had determined that maybe this wasn't the career for me.  Unless you had some prestigious college like the New York Film Academy on your resume, or knew the right people, you would never be able to break into the seemingly impenetrable field of film production.

Then six months ago, just after my twenty seventh birthday, I got a letter from Art in Motion.  I was thrilled and tore the envelope open with excitement, just to deflate a moment later.  While they were offering me a position, it wasn't anything glamorous.  I stared at the word 'internship' in front of the 'production assistant'.  It wasn't even for the real position.  I had taken a deep breath and told myself. 
Hey, at least it is a foot in the door!

At least it was a paid internship, the stipend was barely above minimum wage but a housing allowance was included.  That was a plus since housing costs in Seattle are astronomical compared to Post Falls.

So I psyched myself up and visited my mother in her extended stay convalescent home.  I really missed her and I
HATE
Alzheimer’s.  She was forty one when she had me.  She called me her miracle child.  By the time I graduated high school she was exhibiting symptoms.  By the time I graduated college, she had to be under constant supervision and was moved to the convalescent home.  I visited every day I had free time from school or work.  It is so painful to see someone you love being slowly taken away from you, being taken away from themselves.  My mom was more than just my mom, she was my best friend, my confidant.  She always pushed me to reach for my dream.

The only drawback to having to move to Seattle was that I wouldn't be able to visit her as often as I would like, but there is no way we could afford to move her to a home here; the cost is almost triple.

But it is only a five hour drive so I make a point of driving “home” every weekend, weather permitting, over the Cascade Mountains.  I always feel a small sense of security with a mountain range to my back.  It had been the Rocky Mountains my entire life, now it is the Cascades.

I looked at myself as I got ready to go into work late Thursday night for some hush hush meeting.  I took off my Tardis t-shirt that said, “It's bigger on the inside” and stood in front of the mirror.  I shrugged as I looked at myself.  Same as always.  A little overweight... mom called it “curvy”. I call it chunky, but I really like my face.  It is pretty cute with a little bit of baby fat that I never quite grew out of, but it gave my smile a little extra oomph I thought.  My lips have a cute cupid's bow and my ice blue eyes are offset by my dark hair color.  I like to say burgundy, though everyone else says dark red.

Mom says I look a lot like Denise Bidot.  If only.  Yeah, if she wasn't glamorous and had glasses, and was still a comic book geek in her late twenties.

I giggled and struck a pose.  Then I rolled my eyes, pushed my glasses farther up the ridge of my my nose, and finished putting on a smart business suit. The gray skirt just touched my kneecaps.  I slid on the uncomfortable, professional flats.  Why can't someone invent a pair of professional shoes that are as comfortable as sneakers?  Or do they just want the torture to remind you that you are supposed to be professional?

I did my makeup.  I like it to be understated and professional, so a touch of eye shadow, liner, and lip gloss.  All the other women in the studio try to look glamorous.  I guess that's easier when you are thinner.  But to me they look so plastic and fake.  But I guess that's why they are progressing up the ladder faster than me.

You'd think with a title like, production assistant, I would be assisting the director or something, or providing input for the music videos we shoot here.  Nope, you'd be wrong.  I'm a glorified gopher.  I do coffee runs, locate props, pick up wardrobes around the city and bring them to the sets, and pretty much harp on the talent to get them to the shoots on time.  While plastic interns like Leanne who only have a bachelors degree and wouldn't know a Flash Frame from a Jump Cut if it reached up and bit them, are getting seats in the production meetings where their entire input is them saying, “make the scene sexier”.

Leanne had even looked in my production notes once to my protests, and pitched one of my ideas for the composition of a scene that the director had already said no to.  He praised her for her insight and inventiveness and filmed “her” scene.  Fine, I'll say it.  She's a conniving bitch.

But it was exciting to be able to meet all sorts of famous singers.  Though most of them are high maintenance.

I decided that I looked passable.  I took one last look at my online games to see if I had any chat messages and to let my teammates know I wouldn't be able to do the dragon castle campaign with them tonight.  As I shut my computer down, I pondered the fact that just like in Idaho, most of my friends are online, I haven't really made any friends here in Seattle except for “Queen Destructo”, Reese Qualls.  If possible, she is even more of a gamer girl than I am.  Reese and her wife call me from time to time and will go out to lunch with me.  I love the tiny Daleks that Reese has painted on the red tubes of her wheelchair.  I met her in a chat room for Robo-Terror online.

Her wife does this awesome fusion music with an electric violin and got signed at Harmony Trax recently!

I made my way out of my little company hosted apartment and to the covered parking area.  After a couple tries I got my green 1970 AMC Gremlin to start.  I ignored the little blue plume of smoke that puffed out from the muffler.  Once old Baltar warmed up, he didn't burn that much oil.  I only had to put a quart in about once a week.  That's much better than my last car.  Win win!

I made it to the private parking garage below the studio downtown and turned the key in the ignition and took it out.  Baltar still ran and puttered for a few seconds before he sputtered and died.  My mechanic calls it dieseling.  Then I hopped out and made my way quickly into the studio, flashing my ID to the scanner at the door.  It was odd there was only one security officer on duty at the desk in the lobby, but then again it was eight o’clock on a Thursday night.

I got into the huge main conference room that was constructed like an auditorium with tiered levels,  and it was crowded!  Every single employee must have been there.  All the film crews, assistants, all the executives, producers, and directors.  I made my way to a good vantage point overlooking the main stage where the president of the company, Evan Green was standing by a microphone.  Someone bumped into me from behind and a smooth soprano voice said, “Oh, I'm terribly sorry, it's crowded in here.”

I nodded without looking back, my eyes intent on the president and my iPad that I had out, ready to take notes.  I knew virtually nobody would and they would rely on me to do that.  “It's ok,”  I said cheerily over my shoulder.  “I wonder what all the secrecy is.”

Before either of us could say anything more, Evan started speaking.  “Hello everyone, I'm sure you know me, Evan Green, president of Art in Motion.  I'm sure you are wondering why you were all called in here tonight.”  There was some murmuring in the affirmative. He nodded then continued, “Well Harmony Trax has contracted us to produce a series of special holiday videos featuring various artists to compliment their new holiday charity album.  The proceeds are all going to the Callahan Foundation here in Seattle and Anabella West's AWK projects in Vancouver.”

As I typed I spoke over my shoulder, “Oh, I love the Callahan Foundation.  I met Sandra Callahan once.  I think she might possibly be the sweetest woman on the entire planet.”  I had met her when she joined Reese and I for lunch one day.  I have never met someone who so completely dedicated their lives to helping others like she has.

The voice responded with a playful chuckle, “Me too!  And I agree, she is so sweet.”  This made me smile.

I grinned and said,  “I remember the awesome charity album Harmony Trax put out last year to help launch the Callahan Foundation.  If this album is half as good it will go platinum overnight.”

Evan continued.  He spoke about how we only had less than three weeks to pump out ten videos.  But they had to be released Thanksgiving day, since they would compliment the album.  This caused gasps and consternation over the short timetable.  He described how there would be teams set up with strict schedules and went on to lay them out.  I typed everything he said religiously as I had the mic on the iPad recording him as well in case I missed something.

Then he added, “We will be assigning one assistant to each of the artists.  As usual, their confidentiality is paramount.  The assistants will be responsible for everything the artists may need during their time here in Seattle.”

I snorted quietly.  “Ewww... who would want that job.  What if they get saddled with a diva that makes them like, get them bowls of only orange M&Ms or organic celery that comes only from the south face of mount Everest?”

The voice behind me snorted and giggled.  “Oh gawd.  That would be awful wouldn't it?  But all of them aren't that bad are they?”

I shook my as I smiled and kept typing.  “No.  I'm being unfair.  But there certainly are a large percentage that have come through here like that.  I'm sure you've seen a few.”

She replied, “True.”

I shrugged, “But I hear the Harmony Trax artists are down to Earth, so maybe the poor saps assigned to them won't have too bad a go of it.”

Then Evan said, “Could we get the talent down here and we will get you paired up with your personal assistants?  Then they can get you situated in your hotels for the night.”

Then the woman behind me said, “Oh.  Excuse me, I guess that's me.”

I turned to offer my condolences that she might be hooked up with some diva singer and I actually choked on my words and went into a coughing fit as a smiling Amber LaLanie made her way past me with a sly grin on her face and bounced her way down the steps.  I watched her pink hair bobbing down to the stage area and blushed profusely.  Oh God, could I fit more than one foot in my big mouth?  I wanted to crawl away and die. 
Holy crap was she hawt, girls like that make me jealous and oddly self conscious.

I shook my head to snap out of it and went back to typing as I watched the pairings.  OMG!  Satin Thunder was here!  They retired like three years ago.  Then Miranda Keys... I just watched the procession like a who's who in the music world.  Then Amber stepped up to Evan.  He motioned Derick over.  But Amber leaned into Evan and pointed up toward me.

He nodded and called Leanne down using the mic.  I rolled my eyes as the blonde who was standing next to me started making her way down.  Amber leaned into Evan again shaking her head almost angrily and fiercely pointed in my direction again.  He was shaking his head and said something to her and then she shook her head.  He shrugged and called on the mic, “Sorry, not you Leanne.  The redheaded intern...” He covered the mic and asked Derek something.  “Kylee, could you please come down here.”