Read Online A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles by Nikki Turner - Free Book Online
Authors: Nikki Turner
Ads: Link
considering that this was the first job I’d ever had. The following weeks, I worked six nights a week and spent my days in the studio with Fatz. Just as he’d promised, he introduced me to many producers, who were eager to work with me as soon as they heard my voice and saw my potential. Pretty soon I started making money on the side by writing for local artists and collaborating with a few, even jumping on a couple hip-hop mix CDs to get my name out there in the streets.
But of course everything came with a price. As long as I continued to make Fatz and his friends happy, they made me happy. I’d had threesomes before, but now you could add foursomes to my list. While other artists were paying top-notch dollars to record, all I had to do was suck and fuck a little and my debt was paid in full. It took me no time to record an entire CD greater than the songs I wrote and performed for Pretty in Pink.
So there I was living out my dreams in Atlanta just as I’d planned. To be perfectly honest, I no longer needed Fatz to manageme because I was doing a damn good job all by myself. I really didn’t enjoy compromising my body and dignity day after day, and now that I’d established myself, I could finally break free from Fatz and his friends. Once again, the stars seemed reachable, and I knew I was only seconds away from getting my big break. This time around, I was much stronger and wiser, and I had destiny eating out of the palms of my hands. No one was going to stop my shine, and I meant
no one
!
FFB
I contentedly walked into the radio station holding my CD with pride because I knew it was phenomenal; every track was a banger. I worked with some of the best producers in town, and of course my writing and vocal skills were off the meter, so it came as no surprise that this CD would ultimately get me signed. I had all my ends covered so I figured this should be a walk in the park. My bio was well written, thanks to me. My photos were breathtaking, thanks to Amanda’s friend Greg, and on top of it all, I had a remarkable CD, thanks to Fatz and his many, many friends. Furthermore, my single, “Shake That Water,” was popping off in all the strip clubs, which threw my name out in the streets. I’d been in Atlanta for eight months and already I’d accomplished way more than I did with Pretty in Pink, or should I say Jazzy Girls.
My appointment was scheduled for 2:00 p.m., but at 3:15 I was still sitting in the waiting area in anticipation of the program director coming out and meeting with me. It wasn’t like I just up and came in unannounced; I’d called and made this appointment a week ago, so I really didn’t understand the holdup, but I guess situations like these came with the territory.
I was damn near dying of boredom when suddenly a very prissy lady walked out from the back laughing at a joke shared among her co-workers and called out, “Are you Melissa James?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I enthusiastically answered as I quickly jumped from my seat and walked over to formally introduce myself. “Good afternoon, how are you? Are you the program director?”
Miss Thing barely looked my way as she turned and snobbishly replied, “Follow me.” Deep down inside I wanted to tell this bitch off, but I couldn’t because my future lay in her hands. I wanted to ask her why she was acting so high and mighty. She was probably more approachable when she was interning at the radio station, but as soon as she got that promotion she thought it gave her the right to treat local artists like myself like crap because we needed her to play our music. This was the part of networking that I dreaded the most. The part where you have to kiss up to people who are undeserving.
“Take a seat,” she ordered. “Jay Spinz will be in shortly to meet with you.” Oh, my goodness. This smart-ass bitch wasn’t the program director after all. I wish I knew that a minute ago. I wouldn’t have been so obedient toward her bony
But of course everything came with a price. As long as I continued to make Fatz and his friends happy, they made me happy. I’d had threesomes before, but now you could add foursomes to my list. While other artists were paying top-notch dollars to record, all I had to do was suck and fuck a little and my debt was paid in full. It took me no time to record an entire CD greater than the songs I wrote and performed for Pretty in Pink.
So there I was living out my dreams in Atlanta just as I’d planned. To be perfectly honest, I no longer needed Fatz to manageme because I was doing a damn good job all by myself. I really didn’t enjoy compromising my body and dignity day after day, and now that I’d established myself, I could finally break free from Fatz and his friends. Once again, the stars seemed reachable, and I knew I was only seconds away from getting my big break. This time around, I was much stronger and wiser, and I had destiny eating out of the palms of my hands. No one was going to stop my shine, and I meant
no one
!
FFB
I contentedly walked into the radio station holding my CD with pride because I knew it was phenomenal; every track was a banger. I worked with some of the best producers in town, and of course my writing and vocal skills were off the meter, so it came as no surprise that this CD would ultimately get me signed. I had all my ends covered so I figured this should be a walk in the park. My bio was well written, thanks to me. My photos were breathtaking, thanks to Amanda’s friend Greg, and on top of it all, I had a remarkable CD, thanks to Fatz and his many, many friends. Furthermore, my single, “Shake That Water,” was popping off in all the strip clubs, which threw my name out in the streets. I’d been in Atlanta for eight months and already I’d accomplished way more than I did with Pretty in Pink, or should I say Jazzy Girls.
My appointment was scheduled for 2:00 p.m., but at 3:15 I was still sitting in the waiting area in anticipation of the program director coming out and meeting with me. It wasn’t like I just up and came in unannounced; I’d called and made this appointment a week ago, so I really didn’t understand the holdup, but I guess situations like these came with the territory.
I was damn near dying of boredom when suddenly a very prissy lady walked out from the back laughing at a joke shared among her co-workers and called out, “Are you Melissa James?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I enthusiastically answered as I quickly jumped from my seat and walked over to formally introduce myself. “Good afternoon, how are you? Are you the program director?”
Miss Thing barely looked my way as she turned and snobbishly replied, “Follow me.” Deep down inside I wanted to tell this bitch off, but I couldn’t because my future lay in her hands. I wanted to ask her why she was acting so high and mighty. She was probably more approachable when she was interning at the radio station, but as soon as she got that promotion she thought it gave her the right to treat local artists like myself like crap because we needed her to play our music. This was the part of networking that I dreaded the most. The part where you have to kiss up to people who are undeserving.
“Take a seat,” she ordered. “Jay Spinz will be in shortly to meet with you.” Oh, my goodness. This smart-ass bitch wasn’t the program director after all. I wish I knew that a minute ago. I wouldn’t have been so obedient toward her bony
Similar Books
