The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a pair of blue eyes pressed as close as they possibly could get to my own. I was startled at first, figuring I was still asleep, but a hard slap on the face and a weight on my chest finished the job.
“Dada?” Anya asked slapping my cheek again. “No sleep, Dada!” Her body slammed down against my skin, causing my breath to catch in my throat.
“I’m up!” I surrendered reaching out and catching her around the waist. I stood her up on her feet, allowing her to stand on my bare chest. “You hurt,” I told her lowering her face to mine. “Don’t hit.” She pressed her forehead against my forehead and wacked my cheek once more. “Listen, kiddo,” I warned, “I don’t know where you picked up this bad habit but quit it now.” She turned away, sensing my anger.
“Ah no you don’t,” I said craning my neck so I could look her in the eyes once again. “Don’t look away when you’re being talked to, it’s rude.” I held her tightly and sat up, placing the child in my lap. I faced her towards the doorway and hugged her around the shoulders. I leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Anya, there’s certain things you have to learn and the no hitting rule is a big one in this house. Got it, Angel?” I kissed her tiny ear and patted her thick legs, “time for breakfast.”
We had barely made it downstairs before the phone rang. I grabbed it on the third ring and held it to my ear as I trapped Anya into her high chair. “Hello?” I asked, pulling down the tray on the chair, locking her in place.
“Tay, hey it’s Jim,” the voice on the other line replied.
“What’s up, man?” I asked my colleague. “What can I do for ya on this very snowy morning?” I glanced out the window and started shifting through the refrigerator for milk.
“Taylor, we need you in today.”
I stopped short. “What?” I glanced back at my daughter.
“We need you in the office.”
I groaned and pulled out the milk container. “And here I am thinking that one of the perks of being a producer is never being in an office.” I grabbed Anya’s bottle off the drying rack and filled it with milk. “Here, kid,” I said handing the bottle to my daughter. “That’ll hold you over till Daddy can find the cheerios.” She accepted it greedily and shoved it into her waiting mouth. I went back to shifting through cereal boxes to find the honey nut cheerios for the two of us.
“I’m sorry, man,” Jim went on. “It’s just-”
“What’s the problem?” I asked. “You guys never call a meeting unless there is a problem.”
“How’d you know we called a meeting?” Jim asked, shocked.
I sighed and grabbed the cheerios box. “You think after six years of working with our record label, which happens to BE mine by the way, I wouldn’t know the reason you’d call me at home on a Saturday after a major snow storm?” I poured dry Cheerios into Anya’s favorite bowl and placed it on the high chair tray for her to play with and maybe eventually put one or two into her mouth.
“You’re right,” my old friend concluded.
“Can’t you just tell me what it is you want me to do over the phone?” I sat down at the table with a bowl of Cheerios for myself.
“Are you sitting down?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sitting down with Cheerios awaiting this oh-so-great news that is about to come my way. I only know it’s great because you asked me if I was sitting down.” Jim laughed nervously. I knew that laugh well, it either meant someone was leaving the label which was a rarity or someone was joining and he and the other guys couldn’t even begin to guess how I would react and if I would accept them or not. Sure the other guys had some say in what went on but I had the main “veto” power.
“We got a demo from a new band,” Jim started. He sounded excited. I knew that if he liked the band, I would like it. I smiled widely. At least no one was leaving. “They’re great,” he went on. “They can really revolutionize us.”
“Awesome!” I concluded feeling the excitement growing. “When are they coming in to play for us?”
“That’s the problem,” Jim said. My face fell. I looked at Anya playing with her cereal and sighed. She giggled and tossed a Cheerio across the table at me. It landed on my eye.
“Just come out a say it,” I urged Jim, picking up cereal from the table and putting it on a napkin to throw out later.
“We need you to go to Los Angeles.”