Read Online The Balance Thing by Margaret Dumas - Free Book Online

“You’re very good when you’re very bitchy.”
    â€œSuccinctly put, Raven,” Josh said. “This is Becks Mansfield. Becks, Raven Nightly.”
    I considered becoming very bitchy on the spot but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Raven was older than I’d thought from a distance, and there was something about the enthusiastic grin beaming from her weather-worn face that made it impossible to be offended by her calling me a bitch.
    Either that or I was getting used to it.
    Â 
    JOSH AND I HEADED for the sound booth. I was there to work on a couple of promotional spots Josh was planningto place with some of the bigger Web sites and possibly run as commercials on a few cable TV stations.
    He’d pulled most of the vocals from previous features, but I still needed to record things like “Check it out” and “AOL users click on keyword Vladima.” It only took an hour or so.
    â€œThat was great.” Josh’s voice sounded in my headphones. “I think we’re done.”
    â€œHey, Josh, have you got a minute?” I spoke into the mike and looked over at him through the glass that separated the control room from the recording booth.
    â€œSure. Come on over.” He took off his headset and motioned me into his studio.
    I wasn’t sure I should be doing this, but I figured it was now or never. I hadn’t realized I’d be so nervous about it.
    Josh looked apprehensive as I came in. “You’re not going to quit, are you?”
    My eyebrows went up. “Quit? What makes you think I’d quit?”
    He gave me a look.
    â€œOkay, so maybe I’m not Vladima’s biggest fan, but I wouldn’t walk out on you, Josh.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t?”
    I was probably as surprised as he was, but I realized it was true. At least until my real career came back from the undead. “Where else would I get paid to hang out and say ridiculous things in a tiny dark room all day?”
    â€œWell, when you put it like that.” He sank back into his chair and made a gesture for me to pull up the other one.
    It was pretty close quarters in there. Most of the room was taken up by the big mixing board that Josh mannedwhen we were recording. Aside from that there was just enough space for the two chairs and some miscellaneous piles of junk—cords and extra microphones and assorted other hardware that I’d be hard-pressed to identify.
    Suddenly, this close to Josh, I felt completely awkward about what I was going to say. “Josh,” I began, “I really don’t know how to put this…”
    He looked away and began fiddling with some switches on the board. “Put what?”
    â€œIt’s about the promotional spots.”
    He stopped fiddling. “The what?”
    I decided if he could avoid my eyes, I could avoid his. I picked up a piece of speaker wire and tried to make it into a neat coil. “I’ve been thinking about them.”
    â€œYou have?”
    At least I’d managed to surprise him again. “The thing is, Josh…”
    â€œYeah?”
    I could feel him watching me. There was nothing else to do but plunge ahead. I looked him in the eye. “They suck, Josh.”
    It had become clear to me as I’d been looking over the copy he’d sent the night before that, despite being a creative genius and everything, Josh was lousy at promotion.
    The question was, should I say anything about it? I’d never gotten involved with the business end of Josh’s enterprise. I’d just said my lines and scampered out of there as fast as I could. But he was a friend—sort of—and clearly he was awful at advertising. I could help. The question was, would he want me to?
    He was completely still for a minute, then a huge grinspread across his face. “Rebecca Mansfield, are you offering to help me with my marketing?”
    God help me, I blushed.
    â€œDo you want