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Step, step, step, turn around, check your coat again, make sure you’re presentable. Try to correct your frown a bit, people find it intimidating, and more importantly, employers tend to prefer a smile.
Brush yourself off again, offer your hand to your reflection, and try to look friendly.
Step, step, step, this time away from the mirror, then repeat.
“You’re really giving this interview your all, aren’t ya?” Jack purrs, correcting his crooked hat a bit as he smiles at me, though I don’t bother to look back at him.
“It could be the first real job we’ve had in a while, of course I’m focused on trying not to muck it up. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty exhausted from the shit we’ve been dealing with lately.” I hiss. It feels like it’s been years since I got paid to do anything I had a passion for. All the rich assholes we had met wanted temporary employees; someone they could slap around a bit and control over every goddamn decision I made. I wouldn’t hate it nearly as much, however, if it wasn’t for the fact they rarely knew anything about music or even being an artist.
“Yeah, I am too...” Jack admits, sighing.
“Why does this cost so much? Can you make it sound more sophisticated? Why not play some songs already written instead of spending the time writing your own?” I mock, puffing out my chest and waving around an unlit cigarette much the way those men did. Looking all high and mighty while pissing on the people who help make their parties fun, who make their fortunes, and who use their spit to shine their shoes so their guests can pretend they want to be there. “Ugh, it gives me such a headache. They wonder why I smoke so much.” I mumble, lighting my cigarette and checking the time.
“Is it a good idea to be doing that when you’re gonna be rushing into a taxi in a couple of minutes?” Jack asks and I shrug.
“Doubt he’ll want me smoking in his building so I should do it now, and God knows going cold turkey’s gonna have me regretting this after a week.” Jack frowns at my response but he knows he’ll never get me to stop smoking. I’ll probably one day be on my deathbed, him by my side and at my other side a match to make sure I die happy.
“Oh! I forgot to ask ya who he even is!” He suddenly speaks up, snapping his fingers and looking at me curiously. “Who is it that’s looking for a music director?”
I take an inhale of smoke, blowing it out the side of my mouth and checking the time again. “A Joey Drew, as in Joey Drew Studios; they make cartoons and are in need of someone to make music for them. It’s not the fanciest gig, but if he pays my bills for a month before his company sinks he’ll be the sucker, not me.”
“That’s such an awful thing to say about someone.” Jack chides, but his barely contained chuckles reveal he doesn’t really disagree. Of course he doesn’t.
We both had seen these sort of studios before; the kind rich assholes start up thinking their success in business qualifies them to make movies and shows, but they almost always end in disaster. After all, who wants to see a movie directed by the people who only ever invest in movies, not make them? They think reading a good script means they can make one themselves but they don’t have the ability to pick apart a story, to tell what actually separates a good one from a great one. They only know what commonly goes into good movies, the ingredients of a wonderful narrative. But what turns a good script into something gold is how well every ingredient is used, the level of fat you trim out to make the script tight, to only include what will be delivered upon later.
So if you’re an asshole, trying to make movies on the cheap and all you know is the base ingredients you’ve seen in other movies, you don’t trim out the fat, don’t handle the ingredients right, you end up making a pile of slob with things people usually like but presented in all the wrong ways.
So now I’m wondering what Mister Drew would be like as a director... I read a few articles on him. People describe him as an excitable young dreamer, charming but odd as well. The papers weren’t always very kind to him; apparently, he comes from a mixed family and not a particularly rich one at that. It made me sort of pity him. It seemed he wanted to be a high-class businessman, but perhaps nobody told him that was a very conservative space that rarely accepted people from his neck of the woods in.
Then again, it’s hard to sympathize with someone who reads like a wannabe rich asshole himself, even if he’s being chewed up by the reporters.
He did talk of dreams, of passion, and of hard work in the few articles I saw directly quoting him, but I’d been fooled by that kind of talk before.
But, I suppose any assumptions I could make wouldn’t be as accurate as meeting the man himself, and now it’s time for me to start looking for a taxi to take me right to him. So I said my goodbyes and left Jack to do whatever he does when I’m not there to judge him. I'm off to meet the man who created the little devil darling I saw on posters around town...
And hope he himself wasn’t a devil luring me to my own personal hell.
Luckily I’m in New York, so finding a taxi was the easy part. The hard part was, well, the interview itself of course, but also sitting there in a stranger’s car while I was looking out the window and getting lost in my own head. Devil was a bit dramatic; the worst thing Joey could turn out to be was a headache, maybe a migraine if he tried really hard, but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to dread it.
There was maybe a bit of projection there though. There was this twinge of paranoia over how well I passed as the buildings flew by us. Would he take one look at me and know I wasn’t a real man? That I had been born under a different name than the one I would tell him? I take a deep breath, trying to tighten my shirt a bit to emphasize the flatness of my chest and made decent conversation with the driver to make sure my voice was deep enough.
‘You only have to keep your composure for the duration of the interview, then you can smoke away these anxious thoughts’ My mind tells me, not really making me feel any better.
After a bit of nervous fiddling with about every part of my outfit, I was dropped off right in front of the studio. Its wooden walls and painted sign looked rather nice, and the posters were all very well done. I wonder what poor artist Joey had paid to do all of them and if they’d been paid decently. With the amount of charm and life in such a simple picture, they deserved to be.
Now I’m just stalling. There’s nothing to it but to do it I suppose so, with a deep breath, I push the doors open and walk in.
The first thing I notice is ink splatters. Some on the floor and some on the walls. There’s another sign, a projector, and a few reels lying on shelves. It doesn’t seem like the kind of place a businessman would approve of but it had its charm for sure, like a messy artist’s desk. There was a love for the craft shown in the details like a trash can full of crumbled papers with sketches and pens scattered on the floor.
“Are you here for the music director position?”
I look over to see a man looking to me with a soft smile, his brown hair tied in a ponytail. He has a white button-up shirt tucked into his gray pants and his shoes are equally devoid of color.
‘He looks like he works an office job.’ my mind chimes in and I try not to visibly cringe. Was he an accountant? No, he had drawings tucked into his arm, so many it was almost overflowing. Maybe he was an intern who did whatever was needed? Like taking those sketches up to Mister Drew.
“Yes, I am. Could you bring me to Mister Drew for my interview?” I ask, trying not to let any of my more... Unkind thoughts slip through in my expression.
He nods and I follow him as we begin to make our way through the winding hallways. He walks with a confidence that tells me he must’ve been here for a long time. That, or maybe he is an intern and making his way to Joey’s office is burned into his brain from the trauma of... Well, being an intern.
“This studio is rather large... Was this built by Mister Drew or did he buy it like this?” I ask, not really caring if my companion has the answer. Though I am curious, I can handle not knowing the answer to small questions like that, unlike many people I know.
“Oh, he bought it like this yeah, said it would be cheaper 'cause it’s practically falling apart. Called it a fixer-upper. I think that’s an understatement, but whatever my brother says I kind of roll with.” He shrugs and I nod before I really digest what he had said.
“Wait, your brother? As in Joey Drew?” I ask. I see his gaze begin to avoid me and his cheeks flush a bit. As if he’s ashamed to admit they’re related, not a good sign at all.
“Believe it or not yeah, as in Joey Drew.” He says, giving an anxious chuckle. ‘Oh, he’s just embarrassed.’ Relief washes over me as he continues. “We don’t look much alike and we share even less in personality. But he’s a great employer I’d say.”
‘Maybe not a great brother if he’s using his sibling as the studio’s busboy, though maybe I’d do the same if I had a younger sibling to push around.’ I try to not chuckle at that thought. “So, is he gonna give you a real job at some point?”
He pauses, looking at me with confusion before a realization hits him. “I haven’t really introduced myself, have I? My name is Henry, I’m the head of the art department here.” He looks away as he adds. “Technically an owner too but I don’t blame you for not guessing that...”
It was now my turn for blood to rush to my face as the error I made hit me. I try to think of something to say that wasn’t expressing shock at that revelation. “The posters look absolutely lovely, I didn’t look at them for too long but you do some marvelous work making a picture look so full of life.”
“That’s quite flattering, but maybe save the compliments on the posters for later. I don’t draw those.” Henry purrs and as he stops in front of an office labeled for one Joey Drew, he adds; “Details on a single drawing aren’t really my thing, I’m far more of an animator than an illustrator.”
He puts the drawings to the side, seemingly deciding to bring them up to Joey when the interview is over with. Then he leaves me with one last piece of information. “I’m sure Joey would love to hear your thoughts on his art though. He does good work on those little promotional pieces.”
Joey’s an artist? Well, that was certainly more hands-on than I ever expected from such a man...
Feeling thrown off guard by my read on Drew’s character, I cautiously knock on his door, suddenly feeling unsure of what awaited me on the other side.
He permits me to enter with a loud but friendly voice, sporting that classic New York accent I’d come to know.
I open the door, trying to hold tight to my expectations of a man sporting a black and white suit, all a bit too symmetrical, and an office so clean you knew he didn’t do a damn thing all day. A man who knew nothing of creativity but thought his business mind should shun it at every turn. A watch on his wrist he would constantly check, not because he actually had anything important to do but to make sure you understood you weren’t worth his time.
What I see in front of me is certainly not that.
Joey’s a rather short man, that I noticed right away considering I had to look a little down to meet his eyes and not his top hat. The next thing to hit me was his outfit; a top hat leaning to the side and an open suit jacket with a white undershirt exposed beneath. There was a lovely warm, cinnamon brown as the main color with gold and green accents across the different articles of clothing. His white gloves, smeared with a bit of charcoal from sketching, rested on a cane by the side of his chair. He was wearing tap shoes that I could hear the click of as he tapped his foot with an excitement and rhythm. Then there was his cape; its gold, shiny interior and green fabric exterior so bold and captivating.
Maybe it isn’t my personal style, but it’s a striking one, and being surrounded by such colorful garments only made his other features all the more charming.
There’s the red hair, well taken care of but not particularly styled in any way. Then the emerald eyes you could get lost in, having such a shine to them. He has on some makeup too, a little eyeliner, perhaps in preparation for my arrival.
‘Maybe he could do your liner too sometime...’ My mind speaks through the cloud of nothingness that had hit it.
His expression was what really stole the spotlight though; he had a big grin, friendly but crooked, a hint of mischief in there. I suddenly had no problem believing he had created the posters that lined the walls of the room I was in. He was the spitting image of Bendy himself.
“It’s great to meet ya, Sammy! Care to take a seat?” He asks and all I can do is nod.
As I sit in front of him, every thought I had vanished. My face was warm and words escaped me as I tried to pick apart every little thing about him.
His posture’s pretty standard, one leg crossed over the other and the foot tapping gave a nice ambient noise to the room as he leaned forward.
He already looked so... Invested? In our conversation and I realize he’s undressing me the same way I am him.
Undressing? No, he is merely observing me, my mannerisms, my expression. Oh god, my expression.
I quickly run a check on everything I was doing to correct my presentation. I gave a friendly smile instead of the wide-eyed, drooling, stupid look I’m sure I had. As I corrected my posture, I was beginning to feel a little underdressed. I should’ve followed my instinct and put some color on myself. How dull I must appear right now... Wait, had he called me Sammy? I think he did, but, did that matter when it somehow failed to bother me the way it usually did?
I look down as Joey pulls a paper from a corner of his desk and brings it out in front of him. Probably to take notes on whatever I was doing that made my face burn like this.
God, I didn’t even notice the state of his desk. Hands off he is not, there must’ve been thousands of pieces of paper on top of it and who knows how much more was inside it.
“So, Mister Lawrence, welcome to our humble little studio, I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding my office.”
‘Oh, it wasn’t finding the office that made me like this, I can assure you.’ Jesus Christ Lawrence, hold yourself together, will you?
“Between you and me, I’m thinking of smacking a ton of signs everywhere pointing to it so people stop getting lost.”
I smile in amusement, my body beginning to ease as I try to reel back my mind. “I suppose I was lucky to catch Henry on his way here then?” I ask and Joey seems to beam at the mention of his brother. My heart feels like it’s doing flips in my chest seeing it. Or maybe it’s heart failure.
“Yes, you were! You have no idea how many people are late because this building’s a maze. I got no clue what the original owners must’ve done to it. It used to be a theater, and it’s full of mysteries! Who knows how many failed productions took place here, especially with its size.” He purrs, looking around his office with a sense of wonder. He then turned back to the paper in front of him and it was only now I realize it’s a script, for the interview.
I resist my urge to chuckle. I can see why he needs one; he hasn’t asked me anything relevant to my job yet and if it weren’t for his theatrics, I would be irritated at the wasted time.
“So! What we need music-wise are some tunes to help bring more energy and life out of our characters. I don’t know if you could also pull together some sound effects as well? The music is the priority though. What would you need in order to make that happen? Budget-wise, but also in terms of manpower. Our team’s pretty small right now.”
I pause, tapping my finger on the desk as I think.
“I’d like an honest answer, for the record, no point shooting ourselves in the foot before the real work begins!” Joey jokes. I am a bit shocked he recognizes the motivation for my hesitance so quickly. I met him maybe five minutes ago and he’s in my head, reading my thoughts, or lack thereof.
‘I can only hope I’m in his as well.’ My mind replies and I resist the urge to bite my finger in embarrassment. “Depends how many people we’ll need. Also depends on the area I’m working with... Do you have any place we could use for recording?” I ask, and Joey nods. He gets out of his chair with a little hop, his shoes clacking on the floor. He takes my hand with confidence. The fabric of his gloves is pretty nice, soft and gentle like his grip is. He moves with purpose but doesn’t yank my arm as he guides me around the building... I appreciate that and wonder if I could get away with giving his hand a kiss.
Probably best not to risk it. Even if I do want to slip his gloves off, just to see a bit of skin. His outfit leaves most of it hidden; a detail that should feel meaningless, but was at the front of my mind as we walk together.
Is there a deeper reason for it? It might be the fact his skin clearly already had people doubtful of his ability to run his own business. Then again, no amount of clothing can hide the brown that frames his adorable smile.
Maybe he has a bit of scarring. The kind people didn’t give you pity for but instead gave you disturbed looks over.
‘Or, I should stop trying to picture him naked while he’s trying to show me something.’
Whistling a merry tune, Mister Drew throws the door open to a large room in front of us. For a moment, there was only darkness, but he threw on a light and I wince as the dark was cast away.
It’s a very spacious room, dusty, and has a few cobwebs, but I can already see a vision of what changes need to be made. Joey was watching me closely now, clearly trying to read my thoughts. I smile at him and am surprised as he looks away.
‘Caught you red-handed, Drew~’ I think with a chuckle. “This has got to be one of the biggest cartoon studios I’ve ever heard of. Let alone seen.” I purr. There’s not much actually occupying the room, besides a little record player sitting in the corner of what looks like a stage. “Were you dancing in here alone, Mister Drew?” I ask, with a little smirk and Joey walks over to inspect what I am looking at.
There in front of me were a few shoe-shaped parts of the floor not so caked in debris, however, Joey raised an eyebrow at them. “Oh, that might’ve been Wally, he must’ve been cleaning in here.”
I frown and make a point of crouching down to swipe a ball of dust off the floor. “Clearly not doing a good job of it.” I huff, wiping it off on the wall. “What are the chances you get his ass in gear when it comes to wiping this place down?”
Joey laughs and my face flushes as I realize the language I had used in front of him.
“Don’t worry about the cursing, I’ll give you a little slap on the wrist for it. Just for now~” He gives me a wink before making his way to the record player. With a swift motion, the music starts. It’s a tune clearly made to dance to and Joey whistles the melody as he approaches me. “Can ya dance?” He asks, holding his hand out to me.
“Will you give me the job if I say yes?” I tease, taking his hand. He hums to himself in fake thought before pulling me in. ‘His face is dotted with freckles and he’s got hardly any facial hair too. Did he shave for this?’ I push that thought away with amusement, now I’m just being silly.
As we dance to the music, Joey clicks his shoes on the floor to the beat of the song and I whisk him around as we both look at each other with pure delight. For a while we were at arm's length with each other, not getting much closer, just staring into the other’s eyes as a wonderful tune filled the space between us.
He’s a very good dancer and I hope I’m at least matching his energy while we have our little moment.
God... A grown man shouldn’t fall this hard so fast, should he? But at this moment all I can do is search Joey’s expression for any sign he’s having as good a time as I am. All I can see is sincere enjoyment; a love for what he’s doing here and an excitement to see me join his team.
Then he yanks me forward, bringing us closer. I almost stumble on my feet as our chests touch and my gaze lowers to examine his lips. His smile turns to a mischievous smirk and I can only imagine how red my face is now. ‘Okay, so he is doing this intentionally...’
“Did you ask me to dance to make me squirm, or is that a bonus for you?” I ask, trying to focus my gaze anywhere else. I’m not making it out of this room without doing something impulsive if I don’t...
“If it makes you feel better, it’s been a while since I’ve met a guy who could dance as swell as you.” He purrs, leaning forward and putting more weight on my chest with his own. My gaze returns to him and god, his eyes... Can he see what he is doing to me? The way he’s making my head spin and my heart pound? Can he read every thought swirling in my mind?
Does he have the same idea as me right now?
There’s only one way to find out, right?
I move my feet to get closer, and not only does he let me, he shuffles his own to make room for mine.
The entire world seems to slow to allow me to do this.
To let me kiss Joey.
Maybe it’s destiny, maybe I’m the luckiest man on the planet and maybe this time it’ll work out.
Is this what true love is?
It feels like a movie.
Lights.
Camera.
“Heya, Mister Drew! I heard you was interviewing that guy for the music department! Do you want me to clean up that dusty old...” The call ends far too late as both me and Joey are now looking to the door to see some ginger kid staring at us surprised. He smiles at me and tips his hat. I do my best to flash him a look that looks friendly to Drew but accurately reads to him as ‘I want to break your broom over your head right now’.
“Wally... You’re right on the money, as usual.” Joey says in a tone that tells me Wally isn’t usually ‘right on the money’. “I was hoping you could get this place cleaned so our new music director could move in.” He purrs, pulling away from me to gesture to the dust coating the walls.
As Wally enters the room, clearly not getting the hint that we’re in the middle of something, Joey moves to turn off the music. Maybe it was my imagination, but I swear he mumbled something then. Something that sounded like “Another time I suppose.”
I was still processing my disappointment at being interrupted when it hit me what Drew had referred to me as ‘Our new music director...’ I smile cheek to cheek, feeling dizzy with excitement. I can’t remember when I had last felt this way about getting a job. “I’m hired?” I ask, still in shock.
“Why of course, Mister Lawrence! You’ve got everything I could ever ask for in a director; a strong vision and some stubbornness.” He’s practically beaming as he shakes my hand. “A great head on your shoulders too. But most importantly, I can tell you feel very deeply.” He straightens himself up as, hand in hand, he guides me to leave. “You know, a pencil and a dream’s great, but it’s not enough to create something marvelous.”
He pats my chest, slipping a paper into my pocket as he winks at me. “You have to have heart... and you sure do got it, Sammy.”
‘You sure do, Sammy, you sure do.’
The trip on my way to the door felt like a dream. Joey asks me when I can come in and we settle on Monday, despite my eager heart wanting to come in tomorrow morning. As our hands drift apart and I make my way outside all I can think about is Joey’s kind words. He brought light into my life, and even getting into the taxi to go back home...
The lights in the city never looked so beautiful.
The music on the radio never sounded so lovely.
Joey was right, you had to put your heart into your work...
But surely there was room in my heart for Joey and my music.