Disclaimer: Okay, for several years I have been "writing" this in my mind. I guess that's crazy, but this is what I have been daydreaming since I was 18. I started doing this in college when I got really bored in class. I'm now 33 so I keep updating it to go with my age. I'm also kind of a person who hasn't lived much and spent WAY too many years in school, so I wanted to reflect that in my character. She's not very trendy or flashy at all, and often sort of hides behind her school work.

Anyway, this is VERY detailed and written more like a book with chapters than a typical fan fiction. It will take a whole t get to the good stuff, but it is coming. I promise.

Let me know what you think and if I should post more, okay?

Here we go... (big deep breath- I am so nervous!!)

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I stared down at my paint splattered hands and t-shirt. I really should have checked the mirror in my car to see if I had any on my face. I was sure I did - I usually didn't walk out of the gallery during "demolition" days without being covered head to toe in paint, ink, glue, and drywall. The gallery was right in the middle of a big installation of sculptures, so I was especially dusty. Five of us were knocking down a wall when I got the call on my cell phone. I asked if I could come at another time, but the secretary who called me said it was "important". I resisted, and she persisted. After five minutes of me trying to get out of it, the woman finally got me to say yes. So I told my boss I'd be back soon and drove downtown.

Now I was sitting in a beautiful office on the top floor of a beautiful building, looking out at a beautiful view. I couldn't stop looking out the window- I wasn't much of a scenic person, but I couldn't believe California could look so beautiful. I also couldn't imagine getting any work done if I worked in this office. It was literally about the size of my apartment, which up until now I considered roomy. This was not some associate's cubicle, like the first one I interviewed in. This was a whole different ballgame.

My internship at the gallery was going to end in a few weeks and I was assigned to work here at Elektra during my next semester. I was kind of bummed about it- I would have loved to have stayed on at the gallery, but they needed someone full time and I was still in school, going for my PhD in Art History. So here I was at a huge record company, hoping I would get an intern position that wasn't totally unrelated to the work I was doing at school. Elektra got cheap labor from the art/film/communications departments at my school and every grad student had to do at least one shift here. Elektra paid huge grant money to UCSF, so the departments that benefited owed them big. Several of my professors had personal grant money donated by Elektra, so as much as I didn't want to be in that office, I knew it wouldn't be a great idea to skip out.

My first interview went well- I showed up in neat clothes and brushed hair and handed my resume over to the guy I met with. He seemed impressed, especially with my Master's degree in Film. He kept talking animatedly about a position in the department where they made videos for up-and-coming bands; apparently, before the musicians had enough cash to do their own fancy videos, the label put together something to send to the radio stations and stuff. I guess whoever matched the interns with available jobs though I would be a perfect fit, having both experience in film and art. Maybe they thought I would be both creative and responsible. I felt a little like an idiot, though- I was 33 and the rest of the intern pool was full of bright-faced, edgy college-aged kids dipping their feet in the business.

If I had known that I was going to be talking to some other person, especially in *this* sort of office, I would have made an effort to clean myself up a little bit before coming over. When I got off the elevator, I felt really stupid in t-shirt and sweats, a pencil holding up the bun in my hair and paint, charcoal, and dust all over the place. Sort of like Pigpen from Charlie Brown, but in color.

The office door opened and a man walked in, smiling at me apologetically. He mentioned something about his kids and traffic. I stood quickly and shook his hand, hoping I didn't have any wet paint or ink on my palm that would transfer to his hand and ultimately stain his impeccable suit. I felt like there should be a drop cloth under me in case I was messing up the comfy chair and plush carpet.

"Madeline, thanks for coming down so quickly. It looks like you were in the middle of something. I won't keep you."

I nodded. I suddenly got nervous. There were no other internships available, and I was starting to worry that I was out of luck for the semester, which meant no credits. Credits that were required. And no grant money, which meant pissed-off professors.

"I'm Mark Grey, VP of Development here. Straight to the point- I saw your resume in the pile. I went to UVA for undergrad, so when I saw you went there I picked it up and looked through it."

I hope he wasn't expecting me to do a school cheer or sing some sort of fight song, because my days at UVA weren't exactly filled with school spirit.

To my relief, he continued on: "I decided that I need to place you elsewhere. I know that your focus is in the visual arts, but, to be honest, we don't have much for a PhD candidate to do there and I think you'd be better suited for a different job."

I got even more nervous, and a little peeved. I didn't feel like I'd be happy making copies, or taking messages. I knew I was older, but certainly I wasn't ready for the secretary pool, yet, was I?!

He went on: "There's a band I have under my wing and I need someone in there who can handle the pressure of the job and who has background in computers. You have experience as a graphic designer, and they need an 'in studio' person who can not only learn how to work the boards, but also to act as a resource for media on the progress of their new album."

I just nodded. I started thinking about the perfect excuse in my head, how I was going to get out of this. Visions of tattooed, arrogant 20 year old boys in matching vintage army uniforms filled my head. There was no way in hell was I going to go work for some emerging faux punk band who was busy dreaming up the next one hit wonder. I knew I was just a student, but I worked damn hard to get into UCSF and I wasn't going to sacrifice my life there for a bunch of snotty would-be rockstars. Plus the whole reason I went back to school was to get AWAY from doing graphic design and computer related stuff. I craved paintings and visceral pieces of art I could touch and see and look at in real life. That's who I was, and after years and years of trying to fit into other molds, I knew I couldn't do it.

So no, I didn't want to redesign some band's website. I didn't say that out loud, though. I just chewed on my bottom lip and silently raged inside.

Grey's voice snapped me out of my reverie- I missed a lot of what he said, but I caught up fairly quickly.

".. made the mistake of sticking interns and employees with bands like them before, and we learned our lesson. Last time we had someone from Elektra in the studio, they stole the masters. And so we lost weeks of studio time and all the songs got leaked online. And a shit storm, excuse my French, ensued. When I saw your resume and read your personal statement, I really wanted to talk to you about a possible in-studio placement."

He slid a folder across the desk. I scratched my head and took it. As I opened it, he kept talking.

"We need someone trustworthy, responsible, and down to earth in that studio. I know it's way beyond what you should be doing here, but is there *any* way you would consider working on this project? I know you don't know me from Adam, but I'm asking you as a personal favor. I swear not only will we give you a stellar review, but also a really great stipend, far more than you would get at any other internship, or even a part-time job."

I skimmed the pages inside- it looked like a contract. The first few pages were all about job expectations, hours, and wages. Then there were what seemed like several hundred pages about confidentiality and non-disclosure. Lots and lots of legal jargon, and many many spaces that required my signature. My eyes sort of blurred and I flipped forward a few pages to get past it all.

He continued on as I read. "I promise if you aren't happy I will find you your dream internship here- anything you want. But just give it a try. Please."

I found the information about compensation, which not all interns got. In fact, it was very rare for an intern to receive any sort of monetary reward for their "work", simply because it wasn't considered work. The "stipend" Elektra was offering was enormous. More than I probably would make in a full time job. It took my breath away. Surely this was going to be a really horrible, difficult job.

I flipped a few more pages. I scanned everything quickly and then my eyes caught something and flew backwards.

Metallica. The band was Metallica.

Interesting start. I like the fact that she's older, and not some teenie. I'm an intern myself, for a neurologist, and I can relate in a way. This sounds like it's going to be interesting. Keep going :)

This is awesome! I love how you write, and I love how it reads like a book. The character's background was fascinating and I love the fact that she's going to "work behind the scenes" for the guys. They're a lot of intelligent people who do that kind of work to make everything happen for a band.

This part I really liked: There was no way in hell was I going to go work for some emerging faux punk band who was busy dreaming up the next one hit wonder


:horns: :horns: I hope that you do post more for us, and don't worry about the length. I'm guilty of long fanfics myself.

Excellent start. :) And I don't mind long fics, I'm guilty of writing a long one myself (getting to 160 pages, single spaced, and not done yet... Expecting at least 50 more pages. :P Actually, I don't really care for short ones...

But yeah, I definitely liked this. :) Hope to read more soon. :}

Thanks, guys! I am inspired to write more- as long as *someone* is reading, I want to keep going. This story has been messing in my head for years and it's sort of a huge relief to get it on paper (well, computer) and have someone to share it with who doesn't think I am insane!

Thank you!

That was a really awesome start!! I'm looking forward to where this fic is going. And, I just have to say too, that long fics are typically more, I don't know, interesting(?) than short fics. Don't get me wrong, short ones are awesome, but, It's fuckin cool to check the site and see and update for a fic that you are trying to keep up with. So, right on!!

^ I guess you could say that long fics can be deeper somehow.. At least, that's what I think. And I'm not saying that short fics aren't or that all long ones are, but..

CHAPTER 2 - Please, keep the comments coming!

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The shock must have registered on my face, because Grey stopped talking and asked me what I saw that spooked me.

I tried to find somewhere to start and took a moment to collect my thoughts. He sat there patiently, smiling at me. I was truly baffled.

"If you'll excuse my bluntness, Mr. Grey, I just don't get this. I'm an art student, from a school that *your* company gives a lot of money to. A school with a ton of students, some of whom are serious musicians. I don't understand why I am the one who was chosen for this particular job. I know nothing about music, besides what I like. I've never done any work on mixing boards or anything. Yes, I've built a few websites and know my way around Photoshop, but there are a lot of people just like me. I'm really confused."

Grey immediately responded: "Madeline, your personal and professional references were impeccable."

I didn't say anything. In hindsight, I don't know why I didn't just jump up and say "yes!" to this insane offer but I was nosy and world-weary, so I needed to know more.

He took my silence as hesitation, I think. So he continued talking, very quickly and nervously.

"Look, Metallica is an important band to Elektra. They only owe us this one record and I want them to resign to our label. The higher ups have given me the job to make sure everything goes smoothly. The truth is, Metallica happens to be a litigious band, and if their music leaks, we're through. *I'm* through. They are required to have one employee representing Elektra in the studio, and I didn't want to send an official staff member in there because I am afraid they will think we are spying on them, which isn't the case. You don't exactly look like some crazy music type."

Was that a compliment? I wasn't sure. I just continued to sort of flip around the contract while he talked, reading different passages on different pages, trying to get a grasp of what the heck this whole thing entailed.

Grey paused to loosen his tie and to look out the window.

"Also, I'm friends with a few of your colleagues at UCSF. I'm sort of an amateur art collector and I know several of people in your department. They all had amazing things to say about you- you are trustworthy, responsible, and a hard worker. I just don't think you are going to leak any information on this album or be a problem. I just want to get someone in there I can trust so I can be at peace with it."

That sort of made sense to me. But then a thought occurred...

"Um... is Metallica difficult to work with?"

Grey replied with the typical BS phrase: that they were "seasoned professionals".

I snorted, and then immediately apologized. "I'm sorry. I saw that documentary and know there's more going on with them than just a few guys playing music in a studio. I'm kind of a sensitive person and so, honestly, that concerns me."

Grey shook his head "No, no. I understand. This just got thrown at me, and I desperately want to get this squared away. The band is already in the process of recording- actually I think they are writing and rehearsing. I need you to start ASAP, as soon as we get this monster contract signed. I know this is sort of a huge thing, but between us and Q Prime... just a paperwork nightmare. I just want this thing off my desk."

I understood that. I had a world of stress of my own. I started to realize, though, that this man had no idea I was remotely interested in this. In his eyes, I was just someone he needed to convince to a job. I was not a fan, or someone given an amazing opportunity to meet a band she had loved for 15 years.

"Okay, can I have a copy of this? I need someone to read it over and let me know what it really says," I said.

Grey looked visibly relieved. He reached across the desk and pushed a button on his phone. A woman's voice came out of the speaker and he asked her to come in to make a copy.

"It's going to take a few minutes, is that okay?"

"Hey, you are the high powered guy with the amazing view. Your time is probably very valuable," I replied.

"Yeah, that's what they tell me. I'm completely frazzled, though. I was a director in media relations and a few months ago they promoted me, out of nowhere. So I get your confusion over this. I'm all the sudden the go to guy for a lot of bands and I don't know what to tell them, half the time. It will be a relief not to have to worry about this."

He relaxed a bit, and I guess he was happy I wasn't really challenging the whole situation any more. He never did answer my question about the band being difficult but I had a feeling that in his experience, they were extremely difficult. He probably didn't want to compound the situation-it was so random and sudden, probably his personal experiences with the band would not add much to the offer.

We talked about art for a while, and about the work I was doing at UCSF. He told me about a museum program his kids were in, and asked me my opinion on some books for them. He was really knowledgeable about museums and art, and it made me wonder if he didn't have his own academic background similar to mine. He seemed really relieved to not be in "business mode" for a few minutes and I realized this guy was probably not happy in his new position. I hoped, for his sake, he could pull it together, because he was incredibly nice and it seemed like he was concerned about MY concerns.

The woman came back in with the contract and gave me a dazzling smile which made me feel even more grimy and out of place. I stood up, shook Grey's hand, and went to leave.

"Hey, Madeline, wait. Here's my card. It's got my direct number. As soon as you get this contract read, let me know. In the meantime, I'll call their representation and let them know someone's coming in."

I nodded and left. I felt totally overwhelmed. On one hand, I felt like I totally compromised myself professionally, because being in a studio with a band was not any sort of experience that would add to my resume or suit my professional life. If I was going to get any museum or gallery time this semester, I was going to have to volunteer, which would totally complicate my already crazy schedule.

On the other hand, I felt like a giddy fan girl. I had discovered Metallica 15 years ago when I was a senior in high school, and was a huge fan. I had a massive fangirl sort of crush on Jason Newstead for a while, and while I sort of lost track of it as I got older, I was really disappointed when he left the band. From all the interviews I read when he was with Metallica, and after he left, it seemed like the rest of the guys could be bullies, and had a weird sense of ownership over everyone involved in the whole thing.

I had absolutely no idea what would happen.

Oh, I love your writing!!!
And I'm extremely curious how will the relations between Madeline and Metallica look like :D
:heart: :horns2

This fiction kicks ass!!! :horns: It has quality and your writing style really grips the reader. I already like Madeline a lot. She seems like she has a good head on her shoulders, but she doesn't seem uptight at all. I like how she has a strong academic background too!!!

This part made me smile

"Um... is Metallica difficult to work with?"

Grey replied with the typical BS phrase: that they were "seasoned professionals".


Awesome, and I will be eagerly checking for more. :dance

Very good chapter. I like the fact that she's not some teenie who's gonna freak out at working with them :) And the fact that she has a different background to someone in the music business should make things interesting :wink

Chapter 3- Madeline's not in the studio yet but soon! The reason I had to write this chapter is to introduce another main character that will be in the story a lot. I have no idea how to write a fiction (this is my first one) so I am just trying to build a good back story so there aren't details that are confusing later. Hope it's okay

THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for the comments. I get such a rush when email comes and it lets me know there's a new message here!

Here we go...

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As soon as I got out of the building and into the bright sun, I dug around in my knapsack for my cell phone. As I walked to my car I dialed Christian's number.

He answered the phone with: "So what happened?"

Typical Christian.

He continued, "I called the gallery when you didn't answer your phone. Holly told me you got called in there for another meeting. Is everything okay?"

"They re-assigned me to another part of the company. It's sort of complicated," I mumbled as I got in my car, took a swig of water, and tried to chill out.

"Listen, you're still coming over, right? I'm trying to get my brain out of my ass after that insanely boring seminar today and so I'm not able to process too many details. I'll see you in a few minutes. I love you." And then he hung up.

Christian... what to say about Christian? Christian and I have a very complex but rewarding relationship. He was the best friend I have ever had. We met about a year ago when he walked into a class we had together and I totally made a fool of myself. I try not to do that because I figure it happens on it's own often enough.

See, Christian is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. I'm not much on rhapsodizing over men, but Christian is of another world. He has incredible blue eyes the color of a winter sky, and beautiful clear creamy skin that seems almost translucent. His hair is curly and as a result, he has to keep it very short, but he always forgets and lets the top grow a tiny bit too so you kind of want to run your hands through it. He runs several times a week, so he has that sinewy body that athletes get, and stood at about 6'4". One thing I have is a weakness for tall guys.

When he walked into class the first day we met, I guess I stared. A lot. I couldn't help it. After catching my eye, he picked up all his things, moved across the row to the seat in front of me, and asked "Do I have something in my hair? You have to tell me what's going on so I don't keep making a total fool of myself. Please." It turns out he had a propensity for jamming things into his hair like I did- paint brushes, pencils, whatever. And forgetting they were there. I once walked around school with a green post-it note stuck to the back of my head with a note about laundry. Whoops.

Despite my gawking, he and I got along instantly and wound up spending almost every free second together after that. It was like we were two long lost friends who found each other after searching for years. And we were in the same program at school, on the same tract, except he wanted to go into more of the business end of things and I wanted to go into museum work. He spent his years between college and now as a real estate broker and had done insanely well for himself. He quit because he "got bored". So now he had enough cash to do whatever he wanted for a very long time, include put himself through school.

So all this sounds amazing, right? Perfect man, perfect situation.

One small problem- Christian is gay. He is out but not obviously so; in fact, if he hadn’t told me right after we met I wouldn't have figured it out until a few weeks after we met when he confessed to crushing on a guy in the business program at UCSF. I consider myself to have excellent "gaydar" but Christian never tripped it at all. I think that's because, like me, Christian was not into emotional messes. Both of us had been married in our early twenties (well, I was married, he was committed) and both relationships were relatively disastrous. I think we glommed on to one another so strongly simply because we both craved the emotional rewards of a stable relationship but not the heartache that often went along with it. So we invested all our love and faith in one another. Most people who didn't know us well were convinced we were together- we were very affectionate, and while we sort of did it as a joke, I think both of us liked the fact we had someone to kiss and hug from time to time.

So, yeah, Christian was my other half. And luckily, his dad was a good lawyer who would read the contract I was lugging around and translate it for me.

I got to his building, parked my SAAB, used my key pass to get in the building, and climbed the stairs to his loft. I practically had to drag my backpack up behind me, so heavy was the damn document Elektra gave me.

He opened the door before I even got there, and silently stood to the side while I walked in. He grabbed my bag and his eyes lit up into a smile. Even though I had been to Christian's loft countless times, it still astounded me how beautiful it was. It was one big wide open space with a tiny set of stairs leading up to two bedrooms and a bathroom. Almost all white with splashes of red, and he made sure that every single area in the house was not only totally functional but comfortable. I had never seen such an impeccable space be so utterly comfortable and inviting. However, as much as I admired Christian's loft space, the secret was that I preferred my own cozy,sunny apartment with the garden view.

"Your dad has to read this for me," I said as I handed him the document.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Read," I ordered him as I went to the couch and sunk into one of the cushions. "I need a shower. What are we going to do for dinner?"

"Wait a second. Confidentiality? Liability? What the *hell* is this? Is this a joke?"

"No. No, it's not." I pulled my hair out of the bun. I tied it back up again with a scrunchie of mine I found on the table. My stuff was all over his loft because I was there all the time, and vice versa. He looked at me and reached over to extract a piece of drywall from my hair.

"They want me to go and intern with Metallica. I have no idea what I'll be doing or anything like that, but apparently I'm one of the least likely to steal an unreleased album and the guy who is in charge knows everyone at school and they highly recommended me."

Christian just raised his eyebrow at me, and so I left him to read and took a shower.

After I was clean and no longer full of dust and paint, I collapsed onto the sofa next to Christian feeling much less stressed. I love showers, they really make me feel so much better about most anything. I started talking about gallery stuff but he wasn't interested- he immediately steered the conversation back to The Contract.

"We'll go over to my parents' tomorrow and get this looked at. It's insane. Maddy, this is like signing your soul over to the devil or something. Plus, I gotta admit, from what I know of Metallica, they don't seem like really pleasant guys. But I really don't know much beyond that movie we watched." He looked concerned and nervously tapped one of his feet.

"I tried to get the information on that from that guy today but he wasn't giving me any kind of clear answers. Anyway, it looks like I will be Elektra's employee and not Metallica's, right?" I picked at my cuticles and grabbed for the remote. I wanted to watch TV and not think about this anymore. Plus, I didn't want to admit to Christian that I was a little tiny bit excited about it all. He'd tease me mercilessly.

"Maddy, we have to make sure we get some provisions in here, some stuff about what is expected of you and all that. I'm just stressed *reading* this. You don't need this sort of stuff now."

"You need a haircut," I answered, pulling on one his curls and signaling I was done with the conversation.

"Uh, yeah, look whose talking, Cousin It."

I had hair down to the bottom of my back and while it got in the way a lot, I played with it when I got stressed or nervous. It was sort of my curtain against the world- when I was having a bad day, I let it down and sort of hid behind it. I was hoping that my time with Metallica wouldn't be full of hair-down sort of days.

Christian sounds really cool. I like the fact that he's not a stereotypical gay guy, he acts like a regular person. And he's hot too :wink It should be a sin for a man that good looking to be gay :drool Their relationship reminds me of myself and my male friends, I have more male friends than female, and they seem to really be good for each other. I'd like to see how this goes :)

I liked the updates a lot. :) I think that your choice on how to introduce Christian worked really well. Even if you're writing a Metallica fanfic, not everything has to be about them... :b

Looking for more! ;)

Wow. This is suprub writing. Your characters jump out of the compter screen and come right to life. I love how Madeline picks at her cuticles. If do that too, it's such a little detail but it adds so much to the story.
Also the fact that she was married before. I like that she's had a lot of life experience already behind her.


I love your writing style. It's almost as if we're having a discussion over the phone with the main character- and that's my favorite type of writing because then the characters or narrator becomes like a "friend."

Your description of Christian rocked. I liked how you described his apartment to us too, with ever bit of space being functional. That was a really nice detail.

I don't mind the off characters at all. I actually really like them a lot, and I like the fanfics that have them. It's much more difficult to make your own made up characters come to life than already "real" people characters like Metallica. The off characters are entirely your own, and I think that the fanfics that have strong off characters are just more "real" and "genuine" because you often see glimses of the author in them.
Needless to say, I love this fic a lot already, and I could care less if and when Metallica is in it. You're a good writer and I just want to see what will happen to Madeline and her gay friend in this new project.

Chapter 4

Thank you, THANK you for all your awesome comments. This is so much fun! I never wrote fanfic before so I'm shocked at how much fun it is.

Another non-studio chapter, but we're almost there!

here we go!!
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We drove out to Cristian's parents' house the next morning. The Harpers lived about an hour away and we were always going out to visit them. Christian was very close with his mother and father, and his little sister Catherine, who was 19.

His mom, Sarah, hugged me when we walked in, and immediately got me a glass of iced tea. As Christian and his mom talked, I wandered around the living room. No matter how many times I went, I still found new things to examine. Christian definitely got his decorating skills from his mom. I loved this house- it was stylish but very comfortable. Sort of like a really nice cottage on the seaside, with large shells and glass bottles of sand and starfish on every surface. Christian's mom regularly went on little "explorations" around town and if she found something interesting, whether it be a vintage trinket she found in an antique store or a cool rock, she put it somewhere in her house for visitors and family to check out. My favorite of her finds were antique postcards from all different countries. As I slowly decorated my own apartment, I shamelessly stole ideas from this house.

I admired the new painting on the mantle- a beautiful abstract in pale blues and greens. Christian's mom called across the room that some guy on the street sold it to her. How come no talented artists were on the street when I was around? Just people selling crappy sunglasses. I sat down on the big, soft white couch and checked the books and magazines on the coffee table. There were some art magazines, plus some poetry books that looked well thumbed through.

I picked up a magazine from the Netherlands and read (well, skimmed it- I couldn't read Dutch) until lunch was served.

We all sat at the kitchen table together, and Christian's father, Ron, emerged from his little study to join us. After we started eating, Catherine, Christian's younger sister, breezed in and sat down at the table. She started talking about her morning, and I was happy to just sit back and listen and watch her. She was always super-animated and told very funny stories without them being mean or gossipy.

Cat is 5'11", has the same good looks as Christian except with blonde hair, and is very sweet. Despite her model looks, she was two years ahead in college and studying to be a geologist. Although her hair appeared to be in a trendy bob, the truth was she cut it with kitchen sheers or whatever scissors were around when it got in the way of her work. She paid no attention to fashion or style, but still looked like she walked off the runway. I was insanely jealous, but in a good way. She was too nice and it was impossible not to adore her.

Even though I thought the world of her, I made a silent note to myself to never, *ever* take Cat to the studio with me. Christian's family reminded me of Nordic Gods, all of them tall and golden. And then there was me, 5'4", long brown hair, freckles. I felt a little like a troll, but shook it off.

After we had lunch together, Christian's dad and I went into his study to talk about the Elektra contract. Ron read over the whole document pretty quickly. I guess he was used to everything in there, and could understand it all.

"Well, there's an awful lot about confidentiality in here, and liability as a result of breeching that trust, but you have nothing to worry about unless you do something illegal and leave obvious tracks." He cleared his throat and made a few marks on the margins.

I nodded.

"I'll make a few revisions, make sure there is coverage in here about your health problems, and a way to get out of this if it's all too stressful. Give me that guy's number and I'll call him myself- it'll be better in the long run if he knows you have someone representing your interests."

I handed him Grey's card and we talked a little bit about whether or not I had decided to take the position.

"I really don't have a choice- I need the credits for the internship and right now Elektra isn't offering me anything else."

"Well, I'll put an escape clause in here. This situation is sort of ridiculous, but I guess their justification for it is that it's a once in a lifetime situation with a very famous band."

I was sort of glad Ron said that. Christian only saw the stress of this all, not the upside. I mean, how often do people get to go into the studio with a really talented band and be part of the creative process, even if it's from way on the sidelines?

I started feeling like maybe this might be okay.

Christian and I left his parents' house and went back into the city. We spent the rest of the weekend at the gallery. My internship ended on Wednesday, and I wanted to leave my successor with as little to catch up on as possible. I was so sad to leave, but I met the person Holly hired and he was very capable. I'd see Holly a lot because she was a good friend of mine, so I tried not to be too upset about it.

On Thursday morning, Ron called and told me that all parties had agreed on his revised version of the contract, and he reassured me that it was really just a bunch of formalities.

"I talked to the guy at Elektra, Mark Grey is it? Yeah. Anyway, he's your go-to guy. He sounded decent. They'll have a new contract for you to sign today. If you want it, go for it. It might be an interesting opportunity even if it's not in the dark hushed halls of a museum."

I laughed, because Christian's dad knew me too well. There was no place I would rather be than in a museum.

Mark Grey also called, sounding very excited that I was close to agreeing to the internship. I still marveled at how crazy it was that people were waiting for an *intern* to decide on something. It was too much pressure, in a way. I tried not to think about it all for the rest of the week and just focus on school and the work I had to do. It was hard not to get a little bit excited, though.

What killed me the most was that I couldn't really reveal to Christian how I felt. He was so worried about the stress factor and the toll it would take on me, and he didn't understand why I thought this was such a unique opportunity. I figured I would wait until I got in the studio to talk to him about it. Maybe I could reassure him after I started.

Christian's family sounds cool, I like the fact that his sister is gorgeous, but smart :) And having a lawyer look at the contract sounds like a good idea, unfortunately I don't know any lawyers, I'm not sure if that's a bad thing :wink

Yay Horray!!! Another update. I feel like it's Christmas. Writing is soooooo much fun. It's a great stress relief and it's especially fun when someone else can easily read your work. I like it because I like telling stories the way that I want them to be told.

Now onto your story- Another fabulous chapter. I love how with each and every chapter we get to know Madeline more and more. I like how Catherine is very tall and Madeline is shorter. My best friend is 5'11'' but I'm barely 5'0. With heels on maybe. :wink We look like Mutt and Jeff because of the contrast. Anyway, I understand what Madeline means when she explains about Christian's family being tall and seeming like gods, when she herself is smaller.

I also love when you describe houses. I could just picture the Shepard's living room. Antique postcards rock :horns:


Hopefully, Madeline won't need that escape clause. She is in store for a once in a lifetime oppourtunity and I can't wait to see how it's going to pan out for her.


Wonderful Work :heart: :rockdevil:

Yeah, um, why is it that most hot guys are either gay or married?? It's so unfair!! Anyways... I'll get to commenting on the awesome story. It's a good thing she had a lawyer (and one she can trust) look at the contract: you never know what the hell they'll put in contracts. I'm really looking forward to her starting her new job with Metallica. And, yes, to me it IS a once in a lifetime opportunity!! Who the hell would want to pass it up?? :biggrin

Chapter 5!

More prep and character info, but next chapter she's in studio!

Thanks always for your comments- I have been reading a bunch of fan fics on here (just getting caught up) and will start leaving my own comments on yours soon.

Thanks for reading this- it's so exciting to log on and see someone's reading what I wrote and sort of experiencing this story with me. Does that make any sense??

Here we go!

----

On Friday afternoon I stopped by Elektra, met with Mark Grey, and committed my name to paper. We discussed the details of the internship. I would be going in on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, in the afternoons after class. I was handed a press pass, a company ID card, and directions to the studio. Apparently Metallica (or their corporate team) converted some warehouse in an industrial park outside of town into a huge studio. Grey hadn't been there so he couldn't really give me more details about that. As usual, he seemed completely stressed out.

I pushed Grey for details on what I would be doing, but he still wasn't sure. He kept saying something about media and public relations but wouldn't focus in on one thing. I was kind of annoyed with him for not knowing more because he promised me he would be in touch with QPrime and the Metallica camp to let them know I was coming. I was a little worried that I'd show up and they wouldn't let me in.

After the flurry of activity and contract signing, Grey collapsed into his chair and took a deep breath.

"I gotta tell you, Madeline, I really have no idea what I am doing," he told me. For such an attractive guy, he looked terrible. His short dark hair, which was peppered with grey, was sticking up in all directions, probably from him dragging his hands through it all day. His tan face was blotchy and he had huge dark circles under his eyes. He was relatively short and very fit, but it looked like he had a bit of a gut going.

"Can you go back to your old job?" I asked. I admit it- I was a sucker and a compassionate listener, and whenever people started telling me their problems, I got an itch to fix it for them.

"Yes and no. I could but it would be very bad for my career. Plus, they got someone to fill my position with a much lower annual salary. I doubt they would honor my old salary if I asked to go back. I normally couldn't care less about money but now that we have two kids, I have to pull this off.

"Does your wife work?" I was being nosy, but that's how I was.

"Yeah, she's a teacher. And she *loves* her work. She is so excellent with those kids. Unfortunately, teachers are underpaid, especially special ed teachers, so my promotion was a really great opportunity for us. She can keep her job, the girls can go to good school and keep participating in all the activities they are in. I never loved my job so what's the difference if I am in this office or one a few floors down?" He looked wistful.

Now I understood why Grey didn't get why I was so confused over my internship. In his mind, if you weren't doing what you loved, it didn't matter what you did. He was only in his mid-forties, but he seemed to be so tired of everything. I desperately hoped I wouldn't feel the same when I got to his age, but I had left a career and life behind to go back to school, and so I had stopped any sort of progression towards an unfulfilling career.

I scanned the framed photos on the table behind Grey's desk. From what I could see, he had been on many trips to exotic places, such as The Great Wall of China and Sydney Harbour.

"Have you traveled a lot, Mark?" I asked him. He insisted I stop calling him "Mr. Grey" during our second phone conversation but I still had a hard time not calling him that. Even though we were only ten or fifteen years apart, I still felt like he was a grown up and I was just a kid. An office like that would do that to a person. However, I got the feeling that he really was trying to break down that wall between us and get me to relax. I wasn't sure why- either it was because he thought I was someone he could confide in or someone he thought might be valuable to him down the road.

He immediately warmed up and sat forward in his chair. I could tell travel was something he was passionate about because he practically started bouncing.

"All over. Before my wife and I married we traveled all over the world together. It was so amazing. We've been to almost all the continents."

"I've never even been out of the country," I said. "There's so many places I want to go, and I plan to, but you know how it goes..."

"Madeline, you have to travel! Especially if you study art. My God, it's so rewarding. There are so many amazing things around the world to see, and if you don't get out there you are really depriving yourself of an amazing experience. It's life changing."

We talked a lot about France and Italy, where a huge chunk of the world's most famous art pieces resides. I drank it in, getting off on his passion. However, even his enthusiasm couldn't change the fact that I hated traveling. I hated it for one reason- my knees.

I was born with a disease that affected the development of my hips and my knees. Thankfully, they developed properly, but the bones were weak and I had numerous operations on all four areas to strengthen the joints. I was doing well, but every so often my knees or my hips would act up, and I had to be very careful not to do anything to make it worse. Including sitting on planes for hours or traipsing around foreign cities.

I kept myself healthy and fit by swimming over 20 miles a week. I was a powerhouse in the pool- and if it weren't for my joint problems, I honestly believed I would be in the Olympics. I was always a little bitter about that lost opportunity, but I kept it in check.

Swimming was non-negotiable to me- it was the only thing that kept me going and it was a way to work out my stress and frustration. And, unfortunately, when traveling there wasn't always a time or place to swim. So between the knees and the swimming, there was no traveling for me.

I didn't feel like going into any of that with Grey. I figured he might know about some of it since I wrote a little of it in the personal statement on my resume and some of my personal references were doctors and surgeons. Most people picked up on my health problems in one of three ways: I told them, they saw the scars criss-crossing my knees and hips, or they were around when I was in pain and sort of limping around. Otherwise I didn't talk about it. Maybe that was another reason Christian and I were so close- we both had significant parts of ourselves that we kept close to our hearts.

I really hoped my health wouldn't be an issue with the internship, and I knew I couldn't lug around heavy instruments. However, Christian's father had written a passage in the contract about it all, and so if it was a problem, I could leave without repercussion.

I looked at my watch and stood up to go. It was late, and Christian and I were going to a gallery opening that night with friends. Plus, Mark Grey's melancholy was affecting me and I wanted to leave before I started getting irritated with him. I got very pissed off at people who were in unhappy situations and did nothing within their power to change things. I didn't think telling off the Vice President of Development of Elektra Records was such a great idea.

Wow, it sucks to have a bum knee, my uncle has the same problem. Mark seems so stressed out, he needs a vacation, poor guy. I'd like to see where this goes :)

I love finding out more and more about Madeline with every chapter. At first I thought it was strange that someone who studies art hasn't even been out of the country, but the reason you gave was a very good reason. Poor Madeline. I like how she doesn't let it drag her down though, and I like how she's been through surgeries and shit. It highly strengthens her character.

I loved this statement

Maybe that was another reason Christian and I were so close- we both had significant parts of ourselves that we kept close to our hearts.

Even though he wasn't in this chapter you still managed to demonstrate what a good and special friendship Madeline and Christian have. You've done supurb filling out the characters and making them seem very real.

I also liked that last statement
I got very pissed off at people who were in unhappy situations and did nothing within their power to change things. I didn't think telling off the Vice President of Development of Elektra Records was such a great idea.

That's very true. :) Being around pissy people who whine all the time can really bring you down. It's contagious.

I soooooooo can't wait for more. I love the way you write, it flows so well just like a conversation, and that is very hard to do. :horns:


And of course you make sense. Sometimes it's nice to write stuff and keep it private but it's also a shit load of fun to be able to have others read what you've wrote and get feedback. I probably wouldn't finish half the bullshit that I write if I didn't have others reading it. :wink

Makes the perfect sense to me. :)

And great chapter, can't wait for her to actually get to the studio already!

Really awesome chapters :D :horns2
I like Christian very much, he's such a caring friend towards Madeline :) , who, btw, I like very much too. She's very laid back, reasonable and strong! Great she didn't let her illness get her down :horns2
I loved description of Shepards house, and of themselves too :) Cool family. it's great thing Christian's father is a lawyer and could help Madeline out.
And poor Mark... Like Vanessa said, he needs vacation :P
I can't wait for more of this!! :heart: :horns2

Chapter 6

Sorry- no studio yet. It's taking me a while to get Maddy in there! I had a chance to write a few chapters this afternoon, and she's in there NEXT chapter.

Thanks, as always, for reading and posting. I'm now free to go read some of your writing. I'm super excited to get lost in your stories. I love this. It's a little obsessive, though- hard not to envy Maddy right now as I sit in boring Florida and imagine all sorts of things for her.

Here we go!

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On Monday morning, after a long swim at the gym and a very hot shower, I stood in front of the mirror and studied myself. I rarely did this- I had long ago accepted I wasn't a tall lithe supermodel with a flat chest and long legs. I was on the petite side when it came to height, built like the swimmer I was, and would never be a waif. Recently I had lost a little weight, so that was nice, but I didn't really have any sort of weight problem to begin with so it wasn't a concern. There was always the pressure to be impossibly thin, though.

As I stared in the mirror, I realized I looked a little tired. I hadn't slept much the past few nights because of the anxiety I was experiencing lately regarding to this day. At least it wasn't a bad hair day- my long brown hair was shiny and fell to my hips in very slight waves (it was not frizzy today, thank God), and my face was clean and bright. I practiced some smiles but looked so stupid I stopped immediately.

What was I doing? Why was I so nervous? I had met famous artists and academics that I was in awe of. I had given many, many presentations in front of tons of important people. I shook myself out of this craziness. This was work, this wasn't a meet and greet. I wasn't a teenage fan girl, I was an employee. I was a grown woman, not a kid. I couldn't help but feel out of my league. I knew that in the music business, looks did matter. Supermodels married rock stars. Supermodels got attention. Regular girls rarely did unless they had awesome guitar skills. I had neither, so I felt out of my element. This was a whole new arena.

I wouldn't admit it to anyone, including myself, but deep down inside me was a weird hopeful spark that this experience might change my life, or bring me something that I was craving. I hoped the feeling would go away after I started working. I wanted to go back to my everyday existence and my everyday emotions. This anxiety had no place in my life at the moment.

Despite my desire to stay "normal" for this, I didn't wear my typical uniform of yoga pants and a t-shirt (if I was really lazy or tired, and not teaching or working that day, I'd just wear my pajama pants to school- I had quite a collection.) I put on a long slim black skirt and a little fitted white t-shirt. I didn't have many colors in my wardrobe simply because of my gallery work; in order not to compete with the artwork, galleries usually required employees to wear simple dark clothing. At the gallery I just finished interning at, we allowed to wear a crazy patterned skirt or tights. So sometimes I wore wacky stuff to work, like plaid tights or a little mini skirt with colorful stripes.

I threw on my Nikes and ran out of my apartment. My self-indulgent behavior had cost me time and I was running late. I got in my car, cranked up the CD player, and went to pick up Christian.

When he climbed into the car, he gave me a huge kiss and then examined me.

"Where are the pajama bottoms?" He didn't seem to be teasing me but I couldn't tell if he was going to start.

"I figured it wouldn't be smart to show up for my first day looking as if I were homeless and/or insane," I replied.

"You never look homeless! Insane, maybe, but never homeless. No, really, you look nice. Very nice." He smiled at me approvingly and raised an eyebrow.

Oh, that smile....

"So do you," I shot back.

Christian was wearing a blue roll-neck sweater that perfectly matched his eyes, and worn-in chinos. He always dressed up a little for school except for his feet- he usually wore flip flops. He had nice feet, though, so it worked. I mean, the man could show up in a garbage bag and it would still look like he stepped out of the pages of a J Crew catalog. I had seen Christian at his worst- sick, depressed, etc. and he never looked less than gorgeous.

I spent a few seconds mourning the fact that he and I wouldn't ever be more than best of friends, and then made myself stop. Every so often I allowed myself a few seconds of regret over it but it passed quickly.

Christian and I did our usual morning drive routine- caught up on the last few hours we hadn't been together or talked on the phone, thought out our schedules for the day, and then a lapse into silence. One thing about he and I was that we could be together and *not* talk and it wasn't awkward. It didn't happen often, but usually in the mornings we were so busy trying to get our act together that we both went into our own minds.

I sang under my breath to the Tegan and Sarah CD on the stereo while Christian went through my car and tried on all my sunglasses. I could tell he was on edge about something; when he was my car either got organized or torn apart. Today was tear apart, apparently. He settled on a pair of cat eye glasses he fished out from under the seat- I hadn't seen those glasses in four or five years.

Wearing the glasses, he suddenly pointed his finger in the air like he was testing wind direction. He stayed that way for a few seconds and I looked at him strangely. I wondered if he had finally lost it.

"Did you know the character of Skylar in 'Good Will Hunting' was based on Lars Ulrich's wife? Did you know that James Hetfield was burned during a concert? Did you know that Lars Ulrich sold a mediocre but very valuable art collection at Sotheby's?" He rattled off various tidbits of Metallica trivia for a while and then looked at me with a satisfied smile.

"Uh... okay. Someone spent some time on Wikipedia this weekend," I joked. "Take off those glasses, you look crazy."

He ignored my comment on the glasses. "Actually, I checked out a book from the library."

"You checked out a book on Metallica from the library?!" I asked incredulously. "Really? Wow. But, didn't you feel stupid? Bringing it up to the counter and checking it out?"

"Well, I wasn't going to pay for it. I was interested, but not interested enough to pay for it. Besides, who cares what the guy at the library thinks. He's such a fucking asshole, Do you know he tried to give me a guilt trip last week for using too many books when I was working on that research for Finley? Like I shouldn't use the books at the LIBRARY..."

He continued rattling on about the librarian, all the while wearing those cat-eye glasses. He was so serious and pissed off, but he looked so stupid that I couldn't help but laugh. Inside, I was touched that he had bothered to take the time to learn more about Metallica, for my sake. I know he did it not to mock them, but so that he could be there for me in the next few months, and understand what I was experiencing.

I have to say that bit about the library and reading about Metallica at the end of the last chapter was awesome. How he just all of a sudden started asking her questions to see if she knew these things about them. And I really love this sentence: "Like I shouldn't use the books at the LIBRARY..." I don't really know why, but, I did get a good chuckle from that sentence. :biggrin

And, yeah, I definately get what you're saying: <quote> it's so exciting to log on and see someone's reading what I wrote and sort of experiencing this story with me. Does that make any sense?? <quote> Of course that's true!! And it definately makes sense to me!! Keep on the great work!! :wink

Yeah, Christian sounds like a cool friend :) And that guy at the library is being a jerk. :angry

Chapters 7 & 8: IN THE STUDIO

Thanks so much for the comments!! I LOVE it, it's my new favorite thing in the world.

I read some of the fanfic on here- boy, you guys are REALLY good. It makes me miss Cliff, though. I bet he's reading these from above.

I haven't commented yet because I'm still on pages 7/8 of 30 page stories! I like how you guys handle the dialogue and the.. uh... sex bits. Straight up, no bullshit!

I have a lot to learn.

Anyway, here are two more chapters. I bet my husband wonders what the heck I am typing, but I won't tell him. ;)

Here we go!!

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It was actually the first day of a new semester. Graduate students didn't notice the change in semesters much because most of us went to school year round and spent school breaks doing research or working in the department we were studying in. The only thing we noticed was more people on campus and new classes to start.

I went home for the holidays, but came back right after to get back to work. I was doing research for one of my professors and co-authoring a paper with another, so things were hectic and I couldn't afford to laze around NY for more than a few days.

Although the graduate students had been back for a few weeks, the undergraduate population was fresh from their own breaks. The UCSF campus was humming with activity and the rush of the first few days of classes.

The day went on normally. I watched the clock and chewed on my nails for most of the morning. I managed to pull myself together for the class I was going to be teaching for the spring, and introduction to Art History. The hour and a half long class went by pretty fast, which was a good thing. I think the students were disappointed that I didn't just give them their syllabus and let them go, but I needed to kill the time so I made them stay for the entire class time. I tried to make it fun, but I bet they saw how nervous I was. They probably thought I was high or something.

I managed to keep my head on straight during the office hours I held after class. Even though it was only the first day of the semester, a few of the kids dropped in and asked about stuff like extra credit and test scores. Some of them even asked for supplemental reading, which kind of shocked me. This was an intro class, so I wasn't expecting any super scholars. I had no idea what the semester held for me as a professor, as this was my first teaching experience. I had assisted professors before, but never taught a class on my own. Especially not one with 400 people enrolled in it.

Finally, 1pm came. Christian ran into tiny the office we shared just as I was on my way out. He had a class to teach but came by to check in so we talked quickly and he ran out again.

"Maddy, have fun. Okay? Text me." He seemed worried and gave me a huge hug.

I tried to chill out. I felt like throwing up. I had no idea what I would be feeling when I actually got to the studio.

----------------------------------------------

"You *have* to go in. You have to do this, Maddy. You just have to turn the car off, grab your bag, get out, lock the door, and walk to that door. Just do it."

I was talking to myself again... not a good sign.

After five minutes of agonizing nerves, I finally willed myself to get out of my car and walk to the studio door.

Grey was right so far- the building was just a big box in the back of an industrial park. There were a few random windows, but no other exterior features. To the side of the building was another parking lot and someone had bolted a basketball hoop to the uneven pavement. There were a few cars parked in the main lot, more than I expected. I guess Metallica had a big studio staff which made me feel better and worse at the same time. Better that there would be a lot of people inside and maybe I could just blend in, but worse that there would be more people to meet. I was feeling very self-conscious, if you hadn't guessed.

The front door was a heavy steel one. I assumed that the handle was locked and rang the bell next to it. I took a huge deep breath and tried to will back the image of me throwing up on whomever opened it.

The door opened and an older tattooed guy opened it.

"Hi, can I help you?"

Another deep breath.

"My name is Madeline Reid, I'm here to see Brad." I took that route and avoided the whole Elektra connection since I had no idea what they would think of me being sent from the label.

"Uh... come in. Can you wait here?" he ushered me inside and pulled the door shut behind me.

I was in a huge, square-shaped room. It was fairly bright, which was a surprise, since most of these industrial park buildings tended to be dark inside. Facing the back of the room, to my right was a modern kitchen area and to my left, a large table and chairs. The table was one of those artistically battered ones you see all the time in furniture stores, sort of like it came from an old farmhouse. The table was shoved into a corner near two of the windows, so there was lots of natural light. I loved sunshine and hated being inside for too long, so that was a plus. The walls were painted a neutral white color, which helped keep the room bright.

I was standing in the area between the kitchen and table, and straight ahead was an open area with a few couches arranged randomly, most of them piled with boxes and papers. There was also a desk with a computer halfway set up on it, and wires all over the place.

In the back of the room, along the left wall, was a big metal door, covered in graffiti and skateboard logo stickers. Someone had drawn the words "Inner Sanctum" on a piece of notebook paper and taped it up with a band-aid. Charming. I hoped it wasn't a *used* band-aid, but then again, that might fetch a lot of cash on eBay.

In the very back of the room was a hallway leading off to the left. Where it went I couldn't see.

There was nothing on the walls, which disappointed me. I could tell a lot about people based on what art they had on their walls.

While I studied the space, I was also keeping my eye out for four particular men, but none of them appeared.

The door to the "Inner Sanctum" opened and slammed shut, and a 40-something guy came out and headed my way. He had short hair, balding on top, and was wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt. He was on his cell phone, but he put his hand over the mouthpiece and quickly spoke to me.

"Hey, I'm Brad Devlin, the producer." He shook my hand. "I heard you were coming in today. Things are kind of chaotic at the moment because we are getting ready for recording. The band won't be in for a few weeks and so we're just unpacking all the gear and trying to get the studio ready."

"One second, I have to finish this call." He went back to talking on the phone and went to the fridge and got himself a soda.

I have to admit, my heart broke a little when he said that the band was not there. But I also felt a great sense of relief- maybe I could just forget the whole "Metallica" part and focus on the internship itself. I was excellent at organizing thanks to a touch of obsessive compulsive disorder.

I couldn't deal with just standing around, so I dumped my bag and keys on the big table, pulled up my sleeves, and dived in.

I couldn't carry anything but I helped unpack boxes and moved wires and small pieces of equipment. I was not invited inside the Inner Sanctum so I stayed in the main room. I did get to find out what was in that hall in the back- two bathrooms plus a *terrifying* huge closet full of all sorts of crap. There was everything from boxes of guitar picks to cases of soda to giant spools of wire. The closet was a shit hole, quite honestly- it smelled horrible and its contents were spilling out into the hallway. I very quickly moved away from that area because only God knew what was in there.

I caught glimpses of the Inner Sanctum during the day. As I suspected, it was the actual recording studio. From what I could see, it was a big long room split into three parts- a little living room area when you first walked in, complete with an enormous computer and mixing board, and then a recording booth, and then a big room with more couches. The room furthest from the door was full of guitar cases and I spotted a drum kit.

I suddenly realized I was looking at Metallica's instruments and internally freaked out, but caught myself and went back to helping unpack.

The rest of that week and the next were similar. All of us, nine in all, worked in a frenzy. I gradually got to know a little bit about the other guys and they seemed really nice. There were a variety of engineers, assistants, and instrument techs among them. Some had families, some were bachelors. Some had no education, some had more than I did. I was the only woman, and they all seemed shocked that I was so hands on. I wondered why that was...

I love this story!!! Simply fabulouso!!!

I like the little bits of humor too. I love how Maddy refers to the closet as a "shit hole" your description for it was perfect. It sounds like my closet. I also love how you describe Maddy's emotions: how she's nervous that there are so many other staff members, yet she's a little relieved at the same time because she hopes to just blend in.
I know what it's like to be the only girl worker around a lot of guys. I had to work and live with 15 other guys once, and was the only girl. Granted I did end up marrying one of them, but the other 14 became like older brothers.
You get immune to everything. :lol:


I found the part where she mentioned that at the art galleries that she has worked at she had to watch her wardrobe colors and not compete with the artwork. I haven't been to too many art galleries, but that's something that I would never have thought of. I also like how she was relieved that her hair wasn't frizzy today. I can soooo understand that. Thank heaven for baseball caps and ponytails.

Christian is the shit. This part made me laugh

I mean, the man could show up in a garbage bag and it would still look like he stepped out of the pages of a J Crew catalog.

It's funny because I knew a gay dude who actually was a J. Crew model. He was an assistant Spanish teacher at my school and he often wore Chinos and a turtleneck sweater. :lol:

I can't wait for more. I love all the details. Madeline shines as a main character. I sooooooo can relate to her. She's very likeable and I like her name too.
My hubby is used to me typing my stories. Some he and his friends have read, but mostly I don't show him. :lol:

Keep up the wonderful work. You mentioned Florida. I lived in Tampa very briefly a few years ago.

Another great chapters! :D
I loved how you described the studio, it became fascinating and I could feel like I was there with Maddy :)
I like her very much too :D

I liked the description of the studio, it sounded like I thought a recording studio would look like :) You described her nervousness well, I can imagine anyone being nervous in that situation. Keep it up :)

CHAPTER 9 - Maddy finally meets the guys!

This was a tough chapter to write. It's very hard to find adjectives for "hot" when describing the guys.

I do live in Florida, near the Everglades. I grew up in NY and spent 7 years in Atlanta when I was in college/grad school.

Thanks for the comments- please keep them coming! I have another chapter written that's pretty pivotal, and I'll post it later. I'm supposed to be writing an article for a local magazine and I'm procrastinating. I better get to it!

Happy Friday!

Here we go!!
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Two weeks later, one of the guitar techs and I were at the big table in the main room of the studio, hunched over my MacBook and trying to figure out how to get the wireless network going in the building.

We were still unpacking everything and straightening out the whole warehouse but we were getting very close to finishing. I was wearing old paint-splattered cargo shorts, a t-shirt with an old hoodie of Christian's over it, and I had a bandana on my hair to keep it out of my face. It wasn't a good day for my hair, and it was frizzy. In addition, I was once again covered in dust, since the guys had to cut a small hole in the wall for some wiring, and I was the only one small enough to fit into it.

I heard a vehicle drive into the lot and crunch to a stop. I figured it was a delivery truck since we had been getting packages all week. I waited for the bell to ring because I had become the unofficial package signer since I was always in the front room.

All the sudden, the front door opened and Rob Trujillo walked in.

I briefly debated hiding under the table. Too late, he already looked our way. So much for first impressions.

"Hey, Man!" he said to Ben. Ben immediately walked around the table to Rob and they did one of those complicated handshake things that men do. They exchanged some pleasantries and I tried not to look stupid.

I also tried very hard not to stare- Rob is incredibly gorgeous. That hair! He had it down and had his sunglasses popped up on his head so it was holding it back. I think his hair was longer than mine, and super glossy.

I kept pretending to stare at my computer screen while I snuck looks at Rob. He was wearing a worn white t-shirt, jeans frayed at the edges, and Converse Chucks. How come guys always looked good in worn and ratty clothes, but when women wore similar outfits, we just looked like slobs?

Rob looked at me and said "Hey, how are ya?" and smiled. I wanted to melt. I heard he was a genuinely nice person, and even though he was clearly preoccupied with getting his gear inside and into the Sanctum, he took the time to say hello.

He and Ben took off into the Sanctum and I was left alone. As the door to the Sanctum opened and they went inside, I heard Rob ask "who is that girl out there?" and someone answered "the intern...." and then the door shut before I could hear more.

As much as I was desperate to see the rest of Metallica in person, I was completely flustered by the fact that a) I didn't know they were coming THAT day and b) they didn't seem to know I was going to be there. There was also the fact I looked like utter crap.

Before I could stress too much more, the door opened again.

Kirk Hammett.

Okay, one thing I have to say about Kirk Hammett is that he is stunning in person. Handsome and pixie-like on TV and in video, but in person, he is really, really good looking. Black t-shirt, black jeans, boots, sunglasses. He took his sunglasses off and smiled at me. I felt myself swooning a little. He had his hair cut short and it was curling around his head, which I thought looked awesome. His eyes had an inner light.

"Hi, are you with the computer company?" he asked me.

"No, I'm actually an intern." I stuck my hand across the table and he shook it warmly. "I'm Madeline."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Kirk." Like he had to tell me. I repeated his name anyway just so it *looked* like I didn't know.

"Everyone is in there," I said and pointed to the Sanctum.

He thanked me, did a little bow thing that was incredibly endearing, and disappeared into the Sanctum.

I decided I needed to go back to working. My hormones were getting the better of me and I was starting to feel like a groupie. I got the network up and went and tested it on the other computer. I checked the clock on the wall above the cabinets in the kitchen - it was almost 5pm. I had to leave so I could be on time for a lecture I had to attend at 7pm. I was going to go to Christian's loft directly from the studio, shower, change, grab dinner, and then we were going to go back to campus together.

As I was gathering my stuff up so I could leave, the door opened again and yet another member of Metallica entered the building. This time I almost *did* lose it.

James Hetfield is incredibly, strikingly handsome. Like, knock-you-off-your-feet handsome. He is really tall (although I think Christian might have had a few inches on him) and solid, and the minute he walks into a room, you can literally feel the energy change. I think femininity can be a nice characteristic for men, especially when they have full lips or a beautiful profile, but there wasn't an ounce of that on James. You could practically smell the testosterone. I was a little shocked at my reaction to him.

He was busy pulling guitar cases inside so he didn't notice me at first and I had a chance to check him out without him seeing me stare.

He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, boots, with a black leather bike jacket over it. He still had on his sunglasses, but I could see from his profile that his eyes were bright blue under them. His hair was cut really short, and he had a goatee going, not the Amish-looking beard I'd seen him wearing the past few years.

He finally saw me standing there and said a quick, "Hey." He was very soft spoken, which I was not expecting. I was so used to him growling songs that his speaking voice took me by surprise.

Before I could respond to his greeting, two of the techs came out of the Sanctum, did their greeting thing with James, and they all disappeared back behind the door again.

I stood there by myself, recovering a bit.

"Well, I'm going to go now," I said to the empty room and I took off before it got too late.

One thing was for damn sure - I needed a boyfriend.

Ha, poor Madeline :P Don't blame her, she really needs a boyfriend :P

I loved your descriptions of Metallica. Every word seemed to fit perfectly in the description. Wouldn't you know, the day where her hair is frizzy is the day that they all happen to parade in. I loved this line

How come guys always looked good in worn and ratty clothes, but when women wore similar outfits, we just looked like slobs?

I fully agree. :horns: :horns: It also had to be strange to have people talking about her as "the intern" to Rob and then having the door close. I hate it when shit like that happens and you can't hear all that was said.

I like how you mentioned James is soft spoken. It is quite the contrast to someone who usually is growling in his songs. I love how you pick up on every little detail. Like I said before, it makes Madeline come right to life. And the mention of "Amish" looking beard made me laugh. :lol: :lol:

Describing real people that exist is very difficult but you did a hell of a great job of it. I can't wait for more. I'm actually checking the site more often just to see if you updated. :)

I lived in NY state too. I lived there for 6 years while I did undergrad and graduate school. I lived in Rochester.

Chapter 10

I had a few seconds to post this, so here we go!

Here we go!
--------------------------

I think if I had known how much misery Lars Ulrich would bring into my life for the next two weeks, I wouldn't have ever gone back to that studio.

I returned on Wednesday afternoon, after classes and a grueling department meeting. I had a crap load of work to do and a stack of 400 quizzes to grade from the class I taught. I was really anxious to get to the studio and see if I could work off some of the frustration.

I rang the bell next to the studio door, and to my surprise, none other than Lars Ulrich opened the door.

He stared at me like I was an alien. I stared back at him, because he was Lars Ulrich. It's not every day that you ring a door bell and Lars Ulrich opens the door in response. However, I had no time to check him out because his hostility was instant.

"Hi, I'm Madeline." I stuck out my hand.

He ignored it.

"What can I do for you?" He chewed his gum and looked at a spot somewhere over my shoulder.

"Uh... I'm an intern here, from Elektra." I resisted the temptation to turn around to see what he was looking at, because I knew he was doing it to psych me out.

"They sent *another* one?" he replied.

"I have no idea. All I know is I have been here for the last two weeks and 'm supposed to be here today." I tried to sound pleasant and not snarky.

He stood aside to let me in, and then stalked off the Sanctum with the big door crashing shut behind him.

Brad came out a few minutes later.

"Sorry about that. Lars doesn't exactly like record company people being in here." He seemed really apologetic.

"No worries. What do you need me to do today?" I asked.

He started looking everywhere but at me, and said "Well, we're inside today and probably will be for most of the time from here on in. Guests aren't really allowed inside during recording."

Guest? I wasn't a guest. But I understood and pressed on.

"Okay. What needs to be done out here? Mark Grey said something about media relations or working with the MetClub. Do you know anything about that?"

"No... you'd have to talk to Mark Grey about it." He looked very uncomfortable.

I should have just confronted Brad at that moment and figured this out, but I was trying to be polite and patient so I didn't ask him what the hell was going on.

"Look, I'll let you know what we need in a bit. Make yourself comfortable- there's some magazines on the table." Brad smiled at me and practically fled through the Sanctum door.

If I want to read crappy old magazines, I'll go to my doctor's office.

My guess was that Brad was caught between a rock and a hard place. He knew I was harmless, and a hard worker, and he knew Elektra was contractually required to have an intern in that studio, but the band he was working with wanted no part of it. I also wondered about the other interns that Lars mentioned when he answered the door. What happened to them?

For the next two weeks, it was the same. Someone would answer the door, let me in, and then they would run back to the Sanctum and I'd be ignored for the next 4-6 hours. If anyone came out of the room, they'd pretend I wasn't there.

I ran out of things to do fairly quickly. I graded papers, prepared notes for class, did reading for the classes I was taking, and did what research I could. I drew the line when I started to Google myself obsessively.

Sometimes I could hear the guys joking inside the door, and a few of the things I overheard sounded a lot like they were mocking me. That was the hardest to deal with and it got to the point that I started going back to the hallway to not have to hear it.

I realized very quickly after the first two days that I had to quit this job. My contract stated I had to do four weeks of work to qualify for a "voluntary exit" with full internship credits and a good review. I had only five more days (2 weeks real time) in the studio until I could leave. I could survive that, right?

I decided to let Mark Grey know as soon as I could so he could find a replacement. I tried calling him for several days on the personal number he had given me, but it rang straight to voice mail and he didn't return my messages. I finally got in touch with someone in Grey's office, and she told me he was on a vacation out of the country. That explained why he wasn't answering my numerous calls to his cell phone- it didn't work out of the United States. Great. I was happy he had taken a break, but he hadn't really let anyone in his department know my situation because *he* was supposed to be personally overseeing it. I guess he just thought I could deal with it for the 10 days he was out of the office.

My mood was affected outside the studio, as well. Christian picked up on it immediately, and once I confessed what was happening, he begged me to quit. I spent nearly every night at his loft, trying not to cry. I was behind on a bunch of my school work, and Christian had to teach a class for me one morning when I was too scattered to do it.

I was definitely very unhappy. I wanted my old life back. I asked Christian's father what I should do, and he told me the second I hit the four week mark required in my contract, leave. There were surveillance cameras all over the parking lot, and I could always contact the management of the industrial park for the footage if Elektra tried to challenge the fact I had worked for the full four weeks.

All I could do was count down until the end of January, when I could leave the studio, and Metallica, for good.

Oh my!! I hope she doesn't quit working for them! But, then again, stress is a bitch. Anyways, really awesome last couple of chapters. And I love how you put in the guys greeting Madeline, especially Kirk. He's always such a sweet, charming man. Keep up the great work! :D

Poor Madeline. I could totally see how her job is crappy. The upside is she does get to do some of her homework but having people mock her behind close doors really is uncomfortable. Everyone seems a bit disorganized like they don't know what to do with the poor girl.

This part made me smile though :)


He stared at me like I was an alien. I stared back at him, because he was Lars Ulrich. It's not every day that you ring a door bell and Lars Ulrich opens the door in response

I can just see Lars's round,sticky, face on the other side of that door. She's right. It's not everyday that Lars Ulrich answers the door. I'd probably faint.

I also loved the crack about the crappy magazines at the doctor's office. :lol: Go Madeline!! :horns2

Madeline is in her right to leave. It sounds like she has been rather underappreciated and disrespected. I don't blame her for wanting out.
Damn. Now how will I wait for an update???? Eek!!! I want some more!!! :dance :dance

Whoa! A lot happened!
You did briliant 'entries' of guys... Really, really good!!! :horns2 Especially I loved the part with James :biggrin ....
"and the minute he walks into a room, you can literally feel the energy change" :horns2 :horns2
First I was very jealous of Madeline :P But now I feel sorry for her, I can imagine how she feels :( and I'm not surprised she thinks anout quitting.... The part with Lars ignoring her was really sickening, yet great written...
I can't wait to see what she'll decide with all this! :heart:

Man, is being a jerk, like always :rolleyes: Poor Madeline, I don't blame her for wanting to quit :(

CHAPTER 11

I *heart* you all so much for your awesome comments. I love knowing you guys are in this with me!

Working on this one for a while, hope it's okay. Another not-so-great week for Ms. Maddy


Here we go!
------
January 27th would be the last day of my internship. I could leave at 5pm that day and be done with it. I tried to look on the bright side- I would be given a huge check, I would have a semester *and* the summer off, and could get a volunteer position at a museum, which is where I wanted to be in the first place. Volunteer positions weren't nearly as demanding as internships. Volunteers chose their departments and their hours. I could work a few hours a week and then I'd have a ton of extra time for school work.

I was getting ready to leave the warehouse on Wednesday, the 25th, when Brad Devlin stopped me on his way out.

"Hey, don't forget that meeting today. Everyone needs to go."

"Even me?" I asked.

He nodded. He had no idea I was leaving the internship. I pretty much stopped communicating with him when the band returned to the studio. I had given up on him. Plus, he wasn't responsible for any of this. I held Mark Grey accountable.

"Well then, where are *you* going?" I asked him since he was about to walk out the door.

"I have to pick up my daughter from school. It's kind of an emergency or I wouldn't skip out, but I'm coming right back here. But yeah, the meeting is mandatory," he answered.

I hesitated. I really did *not* want to go. I had a rotten day so far- in the morning Art History class that I taught, people kept talking throughout the class and for some reason it made me very self-conscious. I was so unfocused for the rest of the lesson I ended the class early even though we had at least an hour's worth of material to cover, which I would have to jam into another class. I also had a huge paper to finish, and I had counted on having the evening to finish it. Plus, Christian was sick and I wanted to stop by his loft and make sure he was okay.

Brad sensed my hesitation.

"Look, the meeting is important to the band. They meet with the psychologist once a month as a group and every so often they ask the rest of us to sit down with the guy and just 'check-in'. And it's good for communication, which is good for their music, which is good for this album. It keeps everything from going up in flames."

"How long is the meeting going to be?" I asked.

"An hour, an hour and a half tops," Brad replied.

Are you KIDDING? I thought to myself.

Brad pushed on. "Look, just stay as long you can. If you don't go at all, it will make any tension between you and the band worse."

"Fine, okay. Drive safe." I gave in. I figured I would stay at the meeting for a couple of minutes and then leave, but I didn't tell him that. I was afraid if I didn't go to the meeting at all, the band would claim I hadn't been at work when I was required to.

I was being so careful about every little thing I did. At some point in this, I started think of the band not as Metallica, but as a bunch of evil people who wanted to wreck my life. I had no idea how it got this bad.

Fifteen minutes later, all nine of the support staff, minus Brad, were seated around the big table in the great room. The band filed in from the Inner Sanctum and grabbed seats around the table. While everyone got settled, I pushed my chair back from the table and propped my knees up against the edge. I had a blank notepad leaning against my leg so I could doodle, and I was hoping that maybe the psychologist would not notice me, or just ignore me. I felt like I was at a Weight Watchers meeting or something.

Lars sat across from me and shot me a look and it wasn't a friendly one, either. There went the rest of my self-esteem for the day. Kirk and Rob sat next to each other and laughed over something. James sat about one person away from me, and he was drawing on the edge of the table with a pencil eraser. He was wearing his glasses, which was a very, very attractive.

Dr. Richard Levine sat down at the end of the table with a pad of paper. I studied him, and he caught my eye and smiled. He had short brown hair, and wore a sweater over an oxford shirt and tan pants. He didn't look too threatening, but I was feeling grumpy and mean, so I decided I didn't like him. He didn't seem to pick up on my crabbiness and instead welcomed us and got right into it.

He talked a little bit about communication, responsibility, etc. After about five minutes of following along, I checked out. Dr. Levine droned on like the teacher from Charlie Brown and I tuned him out. I just drew spirals on my paper over and over and when I got bored with that, I examined the ends of my braids. I *did* need a haircut. Lots of split ends...

All of the sudden I heard my name.

"Madeline, how do you feel being the only woman here, in an environment full of testosterone? You doing okay?" he asked me.

I heard Lars sigh. I prayed for a big hole to open up and swallow me whole. It did not happen.

I didn't look up. I finally answered "Uh... yeah, I'm okay." Please move on, please move on I prayed.

"Are you fulfilled here?" Levine asked.

Lars sighed again, and began drumming his fingers on the table. One of his rings made a clicking sound against the wood. Someone snickered.

I didn't say anything for a second, and kept staring at my hair. Then for some reason I still do not understand, I quietly blurted "It would have been nice if I had something to do around here."

Dr. Levine went to say something, but Lars snorted and said "here we go" under his breath. No one seemed to pick up the fact I said it in past tense.

"Lars, wait, what did you say?" Levine asked.

Lars looked at me, straight in the eyes, and said very slowly "Hey, Madeline, I have an idea about what you can do. You can go tell Elektra to fuck off. How about that? We don't need a fucking babysitter, especially not an overgrown little girl. Whose daughter are you, anyway? How much are you getting paid to sit around our studio, listen to our music, and email all your pretend friends?"

He spoke as if he were talking to a child, slowly and over enunciated.

"Tell Elektra we're doing great. Actually, tell them that we're all fucking drunk and wasted and not doing anything, and planning a big breakup before they get their final fucking album from us so they can't make millions off our work anymore."

More snickers. I could feel everyone staring at me. I wondered if the psychologist was overjoyed at the shit storm he had just stirred up. I felt horrible and so very out of place. What was I doing here, really? What made me think that this would work?

Deep down, I had secretly hoped this would be an amazing experience. Before I started this, I felt like a little kid making a wish and having it come true. I had secretly hoped this experience might alter my path in life and maybe make me a better person. Provide me with some way to be more interesting and stand out more.

However, my dream of being able to be around Metallica during the creative process was over. It wasn't as magical as I hoped.

Lars stared at me. "Well?" he asked. Then he smiled this huge, snarky lazy smile and leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, clearly pleased that he had put me in my place.

Suddenly, I had it. Before I knew what I was doing, I stood up, and my chair fell backward. I was shaking like a leaf. I glared at Lars.

"What, do you think I'm enjoying myself? I HATE it here. You think I am reporting back to someone about you, which is a joke. I can't even get the guy who stuck me in here on the fucking phone so I can tell him I'm leaving! So guess what? I don't think they care too much about what's happening in here."

I just kept yelling, furious.

"They stuck me in here because they thought I was the only person responsible enough not to steal your precious music. I'm a fucking PhD candidate, not some undercover spy. I should be in a museum somewhere and not here, in some warehouse, with a bunch of assholes. I'm getting way too old for this shit."

I caught James snickering under his breath. I turned to him. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked smug.

"You think this is funny?!" I asked him. He shook his head and kept smirking. He didn't blink, though- he met my glare head on.

I couldn't believe what I was doing, freaking out at Metallica at top volume. I had done this stuff with my ex husband (not without good reason, though), and promised myself that I wouldn't do it again. I promised myself I would never stay in a situation with toxic people. I was breaking a very important promise to myself. I hated who I was becoming.

My resolve started to weaken and I realized that I was about to burst into tears, and there was no way in hell I was going to lose it in front of these people. I needed to save one final bit of self-dignity.

"I have a fucking paper to write, I'm out of here." With that, I grabbed my things and slammed out. My knees were aching and I prayed I wouldn't trip on my way to the car. I didn't, thankfully. I managed to get my keys out of my bag and get myself into the car, and it was only when I was zooming out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust that I let myself start bawling.