No Title Yet

Chapter 3

"Yes, Miss Davis. How are you?" Jim stood up and returned Amelia's handshake.

"I'm good thanks," she smiled, "and you must be Mr. Rasnick."

"Trevor," he replied with a shocked look on his face. It was the red haired woman with the nice ass he had been ogling, this was not the Millie he was expecting.

"Please, have a seat Miss Davis," Jim motioned to the chair next to Trevor and Amelia sat, crossing her ankles.

"I'd like to thank you for giving me such an unbelievable opportunity," Amelia began, "I hope I'm able to surpass your expectations."

"You'll do fine," Jim assured her, "if George thinks you're the one for this job than you are. I trust his judgement."

Trevor eyed Amelia up and down, making mental notes regarding her mannerisms and overall looks. She certainly didn't look like a film maker meeing with her client dressed in those jeans, although the short, black pin-striped jacket over the scarlet top dressed the outfit up some. With her smooth skin and luminous hazel eyes, she didn't look a day over thirty.

"After discussing things with George and taking care of everything at home, I'll be ready to start immediately."

"That's great," Jim smiled, "we'll need your crew here within a few hours."

"I'll call Dom and have him round up the rest of the gang and arrange to meet back up at the Key around 4:30, if that's okay."

"Why so early?" Trevor yawned rudely, "The show doesn't start until 8."

"So we can catch sound check. My goal is to show your fans that your job is grueling, I want them to experience your blood, sweat, and tears." Amelia replied coolly, noticing Trevor's lack of manners.

"Fine, but if you'll excuse me I must be off," Trevor began, rising out of his chain, "I have more pressing matters to deal with."

"Good, we'll see you later," Jim called after Trevor, who was heading back to the elevator and, no doubt, back up to his room for a short nap.

"Did he just wake up?" Amelia asked, hitching her thumb over her shoulder at the departing Trevor.

"He did," Jim sighed, "are you sure you can handle this? I mean, late night, long days, away from your husband, and living in hygeinic hell."

"Well, Mr. Compton--"

"Jim,"

"Well, Jim," Amelia said, "I've lived this life before with my parents."

"What, were they musicians?" he asked.

"No, travelling circus folk," Amelia responded seriously.

"Oh," Jim grimaced and Amelia burst out laughing.

"My parents were musicians." She sucked in a breath, trying desperately to control her laughter.

"Oh, okay. I get you," Jim chuckled.

"Anyway," Amelia wiped the tears from her cheeks, "here's all of the paperwork you asked me to sign. I wanted to give this to you before I actually reported to work tonight."

"Thanks," Jim took the manila folder she handed to him and shook her hand, "do you have your copies?"

"Yes, I have them all at home," she stood as tall as her small five-foot-four-inch frame would allow and she smiled warmly at Jim, "I just wanted to clear up all of the legalities before we actually get started."

"That's great. Is there anything else you needed to ask me?"

"Well, I was curious as to the sleeping arrangements and trip itineraries...things like that,"

"Is there a list of your crew members in here?"

"Yes, there is and speaking of crew I should give them a call and tell them to be packed and at the Key Arena by 3:30."

"Why so early?" Jim asked, looking confused.

"I want everyone accounted for, their bags stowed and equipment set up and ready," Amelia replied in her most professional tone, "I can't have my crew making me look bad on my first day, now can I?"

"No, you can't," Jim smiled understandingly, "so I won't keep you any longer. I'll try to work out some kind of arrangements as far as bunking goes. I'll also see if I can work up some trip itineraries, ones that can be passed on to the crew members' families."

"Perfect, one of my men has a wife who's expecting so this will be good. We already have a plane chartered for emergencies out of Portland." Amelia returned the smile, pleased that she appeared so together when she was really a bundle of nerves.

"Well, we'll get a plan on stand-by in the next few cities we're going to for him," he offered, "this way we'll be prepared."

"Thank you for that," Amelia said gratefully, "Dan will appreciate this so much."

"It's no problem,"

"Well, I need to be off," Amelia sighed, "people to call and things to arrange."

"We'll see you soon." Jim smiled again before Amelia walked out of the hotel and out into the brisk Seattle afternoon.

*************

At exactly 3:30, Amelia and her crew were standing in the far corner of the pay parking lot across the street from the Key Arena. The buses and trucks belonging to the bands were parked in various locations around the block the Key Arena occupied.

"Alright, everyone is here and all of the equipment is accounted for, right Dom?" Amelia turned to her assistant who nodded in confirmation.

"Great, just a couple of things before we get started," she began, facing the crew of six cameramen and two still photographers, "this is a HUGE opportunity for each of us. If I find out that any of you are doing anything inappropriate, you WILL be dismissed immediately."

"What falls under the category of inappropriate?" A small, blonde girl asked.

Amelia looked down at her roster and noted that she was one of the photography interns, "Well, Angie, I would describe things as drug use, hassling the band or other celebrities for autographs, sleeping with any of the band members or other celebrities, and crappy work performance as inappropriate."

"What about drinking?" Came the question from a young man of about 21 or 22.

"Moderate drinking is fine," Amelia responded, "as long as you're not making a fool of yourself or me. Remember," she said ominously, "if you fuck up here, you fuck up your position at AMN. So be careful."

"Now, the next thing I'm sure you're wondering about is where you're going to sleep," she spoke up so she could be heard over the whispers and murmurs, as a straggler caught up to the group. She made a mental note to get his name later. "We will have rooms that we'll be sharing at the same hotel that the band is staying at. We'll figure out sleeping arrangements once we get to the hotel in Portland tonight."

"We're leaving tonight?" The girl Amelia had identified as Angie whined.

"Yes," Amelia bit out, fixing the girl with an icy glare, "the band rolls out tonight and so do we."

"Oh," she replied meekly.

"Look, I'm only going to say this once: this will not be easy. You will suffer from exhaustion, body odor, and hunger pangs. You are not here to get autographs, personal momentoes. or eBay auction items. This is your job for the next several months and you will be on the clock 24 hours a day, such is the nature of the beast. If any of you think you're going to have a problem with this than I suggest you leave now."

"Can I add something?" Dom asked.

"Sure, the floor is yours."

"Just for everyone's basic edification, not everyone will get to follow Trevor Rasnick around. That job will be rotated out periodically," he continued, walking back and forth like a drill instructor, "you will be given your project assignments and YOU STICK TO THEM. They serve a purpose to the entire documentary even if they seem insignificant at the time."

Amelia nodded, "Thank you, Dom. I had forgotten about that. Any last questions before we go set up for tonight's show?"

"Yeah, are you always this domineering?" Someone in the back sneered and a deafening silence came over the group.

"Who the hell said that?" Amelia seethed, a dangerous glitter in her hazel eyes as she glared at each of her crew members.

"I did," Trevor answered, stepping out from behind several of the crew members.

"Everyone, please take your equipment inside and get it set up and ready to begin filming," she addressed her crew, "Dom, please get the itineraries and other pertinant information from Mr. Compton and I'll catch up with you momentarily."

"It seems your crew isn't wanting to miss this," Trevor leaned in close to smirk.

"I said go and I meant it!" Amelia barked and everyone scattered.

Once she had made sure the coast was clear, Amelia whirled and faced Trevor; obvious rage written across her normally carefree face. "What the hell do you call that?"

"What?" Trevor asked, feigning innocence.

"Oh don't give me that bullshit, you know damn well what I'm talking about," she hollered, getting right up in Trevor's face.

"First of all, you need to watch who you're talking to," he gritted, matching Amelia toe for toe.

"Really? Why is that?" she challenged.

"I hold your contract for this little project," he remarked snidely, a wicked grin playing across his face, "and I can easily tear it up at a moment's notice."

"Is that so?" Amelia asked sweetly, "You go ahead and do that, I don't really need this job, but I wonder what you would say if you knew I could get your record label to drop you."

Trevor threw his head back and roared with laughter, "How, pray tell, do you expect to do that? Are you friends with someone at Lucente` Records?"

"You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"Maybe you should research the people you hire a little more before just giving them a job," Amelia commented matter-of-factly.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Trevor snarled.

"My full name is Amelia Lucente` Davis," she smiled, "my father, Alberto Lucente` who is formerly of the metal band the Vultures, owns and operates Lucente` Records and currently holds your contract."

Trevor was speechless. All he wanted to do was see what the girl was made of, not throw away the best contract he'd ever gotten. How could he have tripped over his tongue like that? He had to admit that it was fun getting her riled up like that and she certainly surprised him by not taking his crap just because he was famous.

"Now, Mr. Rasnick, I have work to do and if you don't mind I need to go see to my crew," Amelia spoke stiffly, "I'm sure we can avoid another ugly little scene like this one. If you'll kindly stay out of my way I will stay out of yours." With that she turned and headed off to find her crew and prepare for the work ahead.