I stared up the top of the building in front of me. No way this was man-made. It seemed to just sprout out of the ground, a towering tree made of metal and glass. You could see the people scurrying around the offices through the windows, worker ants trying to get the job done.

"You sure we have the right place?' Rian asked, lugging an amp behind him. I adjusted the guitar case hanging on my back and pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket of my skirt.

"78 East Pratt Street." I read off. He nodded before waving the guys forward. The rest of the band and Hope, each carrying various pieces of equipment, strode to meet us. I glanced towards the front doors, through the glass I could see the front desk. We were a mere twenty feet away from making an EP. Hope nudged me forward. "You first, you're their manager."

I nodded before throwing my hair over my shoulder. I held my head high as I closed the distance, hearing the footfalls of my companions behind me. I reached out and pushed against the door...then again, and again.

"Shit." I muttered.

"What's wrong?" Hope asked.

"The door won't open." Great going, Salem. Make it all the way here and the door won't open.
Rian reached out and pulled the door open with ease. I felt my face heat up and knew I was redder then Hope's sundress.

Everyone laughed before I pushed my way through them, making it to the front desk. The guard was an older guy with white stubble sprinkled across his face and a horrid comb over, a shiny gold badge pinned to his neat blue uniform. I would have figured the guy took his job seriously with his uniform being so nice, except he was sleeping. Not just regular sleeping either, but ground-shaking snoring, eye twitching, random mumbling sleeping. Oh joy.

I tapped the top of the desk. "Hey Mister." He didn't even stir, just steady dozing. I tapped on the desk again and he grunted before shifting in his seat.

"Don't mind Roger, we just keep him around for the entertainment value." Came a voice from across the room. A girl was walking towards us, decked out in black skinny jeans, purple boots, and a black t-shirt advertising some band I had never heard off. Electric blue hair cascaded from underneath the black beanie she wore and a clipboard was tucked under her arm.

"Bring me the horizon?" I read, glancing at her shirt.

She stopped and excitedly looked in my direction. "You're a fan?"

"Never heard of them."

"Trust me, you will." She said with a wink. She reached a hand out towards me. "Lena Young."

"Salem Carlile." I said shaking her hand.

"Oh cool! So you guys must be…" She consulted her clipboard. "All Time Low?"

"Yup, that would be us." Jack said.

"Awesome! Follow me please!"

Lena lead the way to the elevators while explaining that her mom was the one who had contacted us. Lena worked here as her assistant. "Mostly because I like meeting band guys."

She said with a wink in Jack's direction. Jack turned bright red and ducked his head.
One wall of the elevator was glass and faced out to show outside world. You could just see half of the harbor, people walking and enjoying the nice weather. A sailboat lazily flowed through the water, the captain looking miniscule against the huge sails as he roamed the ship. The boats tethered to the docks bobbed in the gentle waves as the dock watchmen played cards out front of their kiosk. The water taxi speed into view, the small rectangular watercraft carrying people, usually tourists, from one end of the harbor to the next.

"What floor are we going to?" Rian asked.

Lena turned away from the windows, startled by the sudden noise. "Oh sorry! I should have told you guys we're supposed to go to the basement. That's were the studio is. I just wanted you guys to be able to check out the view. " She tapped a new button on the elevator and we began our descent into the basement.The harbor slowly slid out of view to be replaced with concrete and metal piping.

"Hey guys, we really are making underground music now." Jack said with a grin.

Hope slapped her forehead and Zack groaned. Alex and Rian gave weak chuckles while I rolled my eyes.

"It's a good thing you're cute." Lena said. That earned a real laugh and Jack grinned in Lena's direction.

The elevator doors opened with a groan and Lena lead the way into the studio. The first thing that caught my attention was the huge soundboard, all flashing lights and multi-colored dials, past that was the glassed in recording booth.

"Mom! Dad! Your eight o'clock is here!" Lena called, plopping down into one of the swivel chairs placed in front of the soundboard. Voices traveled from the hallway on the other side of the recording booth.

"Brielle, explain to me again why I have to be functioning at Satan's ass crack?" a deep, rumbling voice obviously belonging to a man asked.

"Dear, I've explained this God knows how many times. We have a new act coming in today with some potential." the same voice from the phone call answered.

The owners of the voices finally sauntered into view and let me tell you, Mrs. Young was nothing like I expected. The woman on the phone sounded like a brisk business woman, like the kind you see walking downtown with their dress suits and bluetooth stuck in their ears. The actual Brielle Young looked to be in her early forties with long, wavy chestnut hair that nearly matched her eyes. Instead of a suit, Mrs. Young sported a white sweater with the sleeves rolled up, exposing what appeared to be full sleeves of tattoos, jeans, and worn black boots.

The man she was with looked like an roadie left over from a nineties grunge band. His black hair was nearly as long as Mrs. Young's, and his face showed signs of not to graceful aging. The kind of aging that usually accompanies the abuse of certain things. He too wore jeans with a faded, red plaid button up. He gave all of us a once over, staring down each of the guys before simply nodding his head.

"This is the band Adam recommended?" He grumbled.

Mrs. Young rolled her eyes, "Yes, Randall. We've been over this."

He grinned and motioned for the boys to follow him into the recording booth. "Let's see what you got."

***

We had been sitting in the studio for a grand total of four hour when Randall, or Mr. Young apparently he doesn't care what you call him, called it quits. Hope and I got to know Lena and even met her older brother, Adam, who was the rep that caught ATL's shows. Adam was a soft spoken guy, tall and skinny with hair and eyes like his mom.

"Adam's in a band too!" Lena explained.

"Oh cool! What's your sound like?" Hope questioned.

"Oh, well, you know...metal." Adam responded.

Well that was unexpected. Anyway, back to the woes of recording. It was quite a bit of fun actually. Mrs. Young was cool and explained she had to come off more business like on the phone or no one would take her seriously. Mr. Young seemed harsh but was only like that because he was so serious about the music. Lena said is was near impossible to get the man to say something nice about younger bands, but he had some praise to give the guys.

"By the way Lena, who is Bring Me the Horizon?" Hope inquired, looking up from her sketchbook at Lena's t-shirt.

"They're this little band from Sheffield whose show I caught in this pub in London. They were really good and the t-shirt was cute so you know." She shrugged and went back to spinning around in her chair.

"You've been to London." I noted.

"Well yeah, in Mom and Dad's line of work we get to travel. Especially when a band they produced invites us to a show."

I had never even been off the east coast, let alone another country. I wonder if the guys would ever get big enough to be able to play shows around the world. Maybe, maybe not, but hey it was worth a try. They were off to a good start though. The four songs recorded today would become a small EP, Three Words to Remember in Dealing With the End, and Mrs. Young was all for using Hope's artwork for the cover. "This looks great! It gives the everything a more personal touch. You might have a future in graphic design, Hope." Hope blushed and went back to sketching.

Alex showed Mr. Young the band's song book and he seemed pretty interested. "May I keep this for a while? I want to look at everything a little more in depth." The guys agreed and we all started to pack up the equipment. I was one of the last ones to leave the studio, grabbing up a guitar case and a pack of strings off the soundboard. I turned to enter the elevator when a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"Salem?"

"What's up, Lena?"

"You almost forgot your notebook."

"Oh thanks! I would have freaked if I left it."

Lena slid my notebook into my shoulder bag for me. "I hope you don't mind but I wrote my number on a back page. You and Hope seem really cool and I would love to hang out with you guys sometime."

"Oh! I don't mind at all. It was really nice meeting you, Lena."

"And Salem?"

"Yes?"

"Feel free to make sure Jack gets my number too." Lena said with a wink.

I chuckled before stepping into the elevator and making my way up.