Page 57 of A World Apart (Between Worlds #1)

“ O kay, stop, is that another Halloween shop?” I stopped, pointing at the shop across the street that was most definitely a Kombucha pop up the week before, but was now either badly infested with ghosts, or had turned into a Halloween store.

Becka followed my finger, then burst out laughing.

“Welcome to LA in the fall, babes.” She adjusted her burgundy infinity scarf in the mirrored front of an office building, yet again, discreetly patting her matching beanie hat to make sure it was still artfully in place atop her sandy blonde highlights.

It had happened almost overnight, it seemed. One minute people were still wearing shorts and tank tops, moaning about how hot and dry it was, now those same people were sweating under layers of wool, ordering Pumpkin Spice Lattes, but still moaning about how hot and dry it was.

Becka had walked on ahead while I still gaped at the fifth Halloween-themed shop we’d seen this morning .

“How can you tell the difference between summer and autumn?” I grumbled, catching up to her.

“LA has three seasons; Not Summer, Summer, and Fire Season.”

“What the eff is ‘Fire Season?’” I asked with some alarm.

Becka waved a hand dismissively. “It’s whatever the Santa Ana wants it to be.” As if that answered my question.

“Remind me again why we’re walking through the streets of LA on our lunch break?”

“I want to get my steps up before I go home next weekend. I won’t be walking farther than the distance between the front door to the porch, and my mom will stuff me like a turkey the whole weekend.”

“Since when do you care about getting in your steps?”

“Since Celine said my ass filled out my pants nicely.” Becka’s pace increased.

“Is that a bad thing?” I had to jog to catch up with her.

“They were palazzo pants.” She growled.

I didn’t really mind getting out of the building today, truth be told.

It was becoming abundantly clearer as the days passed that my employment was becoming unnecessary.

Jeremy had less actual work for me, so more often than not I was sent to dogsbody for other teams. I was learning a lot though, so there was an upside.

Mentally, I was preparing to go back to the UK in the new year, especially since I didn’t really know what I wanted anymore.

On the down-low, I’d asked Jeremy to put feelers out to people he knew in the industry.

He was well aware of the terms of my employment and knew as well as I did that my contract wasn’t going to be renewed.

I hadn’t shared my change of heart about music production with him, but it wasn’t like he’d be able to land me a producer’s chair anyway.

Still, it might be cool to do sound tech for a venue.

At least that way, I might be able to stay in LA.

Everything was still so up in the air that it was hard to feel relaxed about any future plans I tried to make.

I was enjoying how the city had suddenly cloaked itself in the disguise of Autumn. It was bizarre; the way people were suddenly draped in scarves and wearing knee-high boots, sweating underneath it all just for the ‘aesthetic. ’

It wasn't just the clothes, though. The whole city was suddenly bedecked in autumnal foliage, fake orange and red leaves draped all over store fronts, pumpkins and hay bales crowding pavements that now smelt like pumpkin spice and vanilla, instead of… well, hot trash.

It was like the whole city and everyone in it was trying to live out their Gilmore Girls fantasy. I was kind of here for it.

“Is it today they’re filming?” Becka’s question brings my focus away from a chihuahua dressed as a hotdog and back to her.

“Yeah, today and tomorrow, done by Friday.”

“In Long Beach?”

“In some industrial park, yeah.” Jihoon had sent me some selfies last night, but as far as I could tell, it was an abandoned lot. The magic of post-production had a lot of work to do.

“And you remember I’m heading out right after work on Friday?”

“Yes, Mother, I remember.” I rolled my eyes at her. She’d reminded me every day this week that she was taking the bus up to Oakland to spend the Halloween weekend with her parents.

“I’ll mother you in a minute.” Becka shot back at me as we crossed over the street to head back to work, the lunch hour being nearly up.

“Oh, you already do.” It was probably lucky she hadn’t heard me, already half-way across the road. Sighing, I increased my pace to catch up with her.

I said goodbye to Becka as she took the lift back up to her office. I didn’t have any assigned tasks left today, so I lingered in the reception, fiddling with my phone.

“Haven’t you got anything better to do?” I looked up in surprise. The only person in the bright lobby was Donna.

“I’m sorry,” I started, “did you say something?” I really don’t think she’d ever addressed me before.

In answer, Donna rolled her eyes and sat back down on the tall office chair behind the desk. She picked up a nail file and began to shape her already-perfect nails.

“You seem like a little duckling, these days, kid. Lost your mama, you?” My eyebrows furrowed so deeply I felt the muscles in my forehead straining.

How have I never heard her accent before?

She spoke with such a distinct not-quite-French twang that her words took a hot minute to filter through to my brain.

“I guess I’m just feeling a little useless, these days,” I admitted.

“Smart girl like you needs a purpose.” Donna nodded sagely, not lifting her gaze from her nails.

You could have knocked me over with that nail file. First, she speaks, then she calls me smart?

“Moi?” I said, holding a hand to my chest, as if I couldn’t believe my ears.

Donna halts her nail file and looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. “Tu parle francais?”

“Oui,” I responded automatically, “un petit peu.” I’d gotten a B in my A-Level French, although I’m sure much of it had already fallen out of my brain.

Donna smiled at me, but it wasn’t the normal smile I’d seen her give to clients; there was something a bit wolfish about this smile. She seemed to have entirely too many teeth.

“Knew you was a smart girl, you. Now git.” She jerked her head and went back to filing her nails, a dismissal as clear as day.

Needing to go somewhere, I headed towards the storage cave. I could always alphabetise the music sheets left over from the orchestra we’d had in a few weeks ago.

I was just tapping out a message to Becka to tell her about my encounter with Donna, sitting on the floor and surrounded by different musical arrangement sheet music when the door creaked open behind me.

“There you are,” the voice so unwelcome that it slithered down my spine. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I spun around on my ass to find Trevor Kyle standing in front of the now-closed door.

The storage cave was not small, by any means, but with me on the floor and him at the door, it suddenly felt cramped.

“How can I help you, Mr Kyle.” Keeping my voice even was an effort.

“Let me help you up, Kayla.” He extended a hand to me, but I shied away from it. He might as well have been holding out a fistful of snakes, for all the inclination I had to reach for it. Instead, I scrabbled to my feet, swiping my finger over the screen and pocketing my phone.

“It’s Kaiya. What can I do for you, Mr Kyle?” I reiterated.

He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“How long have you worked for us, Kaiya?” ‘Us’, as if he didn’t work for Pisces just as much as I did.

“Since April, Mr Kyle.” I kept expecting him to ask me to call him Trevor, as I’d seen him do with pretty much everyone, but he never did.

“And do you have aspirations to work in the music industry, Kaiya?” It was a simple enough question, but when he said it, it sounded like a proposition.

“I don’t know what career I’m going to pursue, yet.” I answered, careful to keep my tone neutral. All too aware of that closed door.

“I could help you with that, you know.” He grinned. “It’s so important to nurture talent from within our ranks. I’ve seen your Youtube channel. You have some promise.”

I was so taken aback that I momentarily forgot to be apprehensive in the face of a well-respected producer telling me I had promise.

“T-thank you.” I slicked my hands down my jeans.

Trevor Kyle pushed off the door behind him and took a step towards me. “Why don’t you spend some time shadowing me? I could show you the ropes. I’d be happy to break you in a little bit.”

I blinked, going over the words in my head. Individually they were fine, but altogether, they were… not.

“It’s who you know in this business that opens doors,” he continued. “You need friends you can look up to. We could be friends.” He shrugged, as if this wasn’t a big deal, but the next step he took closer to me felt a whole lot like a big deal.

He looked like he was going to move again, where the door loudly opened, slamming against the wall.

And there in the doorway, standing like an avenging angel-

“You okay, cher?”

I heaved a sigh and moved around TK, holding my breath to avoid breathing in the smell of his cologne .

“Did you need me to sort that thing for you, Donna?” I chirped as I joined her at the door, my eyes wide. Her eyes narrowed as she flicked a glance over my shoulder. I didn’t turn around, so I don’t know what she saw, but it obviously didn’t pass the vibe check.

“Yes.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the too-bright reception, dragging me all the way over to her desk, where she forced me to sit in her chair. Imperiously, she pointed at her computer screen and ordered me to “fix this thing, you.”