Okay, Julie, here's my response to your challenge. Is this what you had in mind or did I miss the point entirely?
Chapter One
“Logan…. Logan….. Hello LOGAN!” Mike practically shouted as he waved his hand in front of his client’s face.
“Wha… oh, sorry… Guess I spaced out some.” Logan Ashford said, sitting up straight in his chair and trying to focus on the proceedings going on around the large polished oak table. “What’d I miss?” Logan hates the mundane, would much rather be out doing something active, being a part of life instead of contracting it.
Mike chuckled and said, “Sorry we’re so dull that you can’t stay awake, we’re almost finished up here. You need to sign these papers, same stuff as always; you’re agreeing to produce 2 new albums in the next forty-two months for the specified amount… yada, yada, yada… legal mumbo jumbo.”
Logan perused the legal document in front of him and signed on the dotted line. He replaced the cap on the pen and stood up, taking his copy of the contract and leaving the room as quickly as possible; leaving his manager and the lawyers behind before they could bring up some other bit of business that he just had to take care of. He just wanted to write music and sing… that’s what he got into this business to do, not paperwork and sitting around in meetings that were dull enough to turn his brain to mush.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss and Logan stepped inside, glad the cubicle was empty… even more glad that the doors slid closed just as Mike and the lawyers for New Wave Studios came walking toward the elevators. He saw their steps quicken but the doors connected and the elevator started moving 15 floors down to the parking garage. Logan sighed with relief as his car was brought up. He eased behind the wheel and tipped the Valet before maneuvering the car into traffic and pointing it toward home.
Home and peace and quiet. Logan let out a cynical laugh. Peace and quiet were something he hadn’t had in ages it seemed. Everywhere he went he was pursued by tabloid photographers and fans. The fans he didn’t mind so much… well, except for the overzealous ones that tried to pull him apart. It was like they wanted an arm or chunk of his hair to take home as a souvenir. Singing, the one thing he loved in the entire world, was becoming a chore and he hated that. The love of his life- music- is becoming a job and he's struggling with that. He wants it to be fun again.
Logan’s car sped toward the hills where his house was nestled back away from the street and nosey people were kept out by high fences and higher trees… It was his million dollar prison, as he jokingly called it… but it wasn’t a joke; not really. He was a prisoner in his own home because people couldn’t keep their noses in their own business and insisted on minding his. Fame and fortune isn't all it's cracked up to be. His life isn't his own anymore and no matter how glamorous his prison, it's still a prison.
“Logan…. Logan….. Hello LOGAN!” Mike practically shouted as he waved his hand in front of his client’s face.
“Wha… oh, sorry… Guess I spaced out some.” Logan Ashford said, sitting up straight in his chair and trying to focus on the proceedings going on around the large polished oak table. “What’d I miss?” Logan hates the mundane, would much rather be out doing something active, being a part of life instead of contracting it.
Mike chuckled and said, “Sorry we’re so dull that you can’t stay awake, we’re almost finished up here. You need to sign these papers, same stuff as always; you’re agreeing to produce 2 new albums in the next forty-two months for the specified amount… yada, yada, yada… legal mumbo jumbo.”
Logan perused the legal document in front of him and signed on the dotted line. He replaced the cap on the pen and stood up, taking his copy of the contract and leaving the room as quickly as possible; leaving his manager and the lawyers behind before they could bring up some other bit of business that he just had to take care of. He just wanted to write music and sing… that’s what he got into this business to do, not paperwork and sitting around in meetings that were dull enough to turn his brain to mush.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss and Logan stepped inside, glad the cubicle was empty… even more glad that the doors slid closed just as Mike and the lawyers for New Wave Studios came walking toward the elevators. He saw their steps quicken but the doors connected and the elevator started moving 15 floors down to the parking garage. Logan sighed with relief as his car was brought up. He eased behind the wheel and tipped the Valet before maneuvering the car into traffic and pointing it toward home.
Home and peace and quiet. Logan let out a cynical laugh. Peace and quiet were something he hadn’t had in ages it seemed. Everywhere he went he was pursued by tabloid photographers and fans. The fans he didn’t mind so much… well, except for the overzealous ones that tried to pull him apart. It was like they wanted an arm or chunk of his hair to take home as a souvenir. Singing, the one thing he loved in the entire world, was becoming a chore and he hated that. The love of his life- music- is becoming a job and he's struggling with that. He wants it to be fun again.
Logan’s car sped toward the hills where his house was nestled back away from the street and nosey people were kept out by high fences and higher trees… It was his million dollar prison, as he jokingly called it… but it wasn’t a joke; not really. He was a prisoner in his own home because people couldn’t keep their noses in their own business and insisted on minding his. Fame and fortune isn't all it's cracked up to be. His life isn't his own anymore and no matter how glamorous his prison, it's still a prison.
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