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“Well, I mean, it sounds good to me. You’re doing what you love.”
“You got me there, little miss. I do have music lodged like a bullet in my black little heart, and I love corrupting the next generation of artists– creatively, anyway. People are going to be shocked when they start having gallery shows.”
His smile was beatific, a picture of pure pleasure in mischief, which reminded me of the first Google results for Loki’s Laugh. It was a band that I liked that had taken a while to catch on but was now considered up and coming, thanks to being signed with the record label Suspicious Activity.
Seth Black, a former musician, headed up the label and helped produce the albums, and all its bands were successful.
What Professor Hernandez was talking about doing to work one’s way up the music scene did sound like fun, to tell the truth.
I’d taken his art class before I had learned that music was more my thing than art was— in fact, he had encouraged me to pursue it— but I had heard stories, both in person and in passing, his legend growing with each year, of him making the rounds at local nightclubs.
And that was what caused some friends and I to venture out and see him, even though I didn’t want to admit that to him right now.
Other than that one class I had taken of his, our paths had crossed on campus crossed like bones at end-of-year shows. Tall, dark and ravishing with a glass of champagne in his hand, he had to be the hippest goth in the land, faculty heads turning in his wake.
“In fact, I might be able to help you out,” he said now.
“Please, don’t tease me.”
I really didn’t think my poor heart could take it. I was intimately acquainted with disappointment, but stoicism only went so far. Cynicism, in the classical sense, seemed even more appealing, and I liked to try to tell myself not to get my hopes up.
“I’d never do that,” he insisted. “It’s not my style. I really think I can help you get a job in the music industry– at least to get a foot in the door. I’ve recorded a few times with Suspicious Activity and happen to be on a first name basis with Seth Black.”
I just stared at him when he said this, trying not to let my eyes fall out of my head.
“I could email him and see if he might be looking to extend a job opportunity to a bright young student such as yourself,” he said. “Between you and me, I’d be shocked if he didn’t want to help you out. It’s just the way he is.”
“That would be so amazing,” I told him. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem. Just call and follow up after I contact him, so he knows you’re the type to take initiative. I know he likes that about people. I’ll be sure to mention in my email that you’ll call soon.”
“I don’t have his number,” I blurted out, my excitement getting the better of me.
Like a magician, Professor Hernandez, or Boo Slim as he was known to his fans, reached into his pitch-black pirate coat, bedecked with dragons, and conjured a card.
Seth’s business card was bone white with clear black type, and simply a thing of beauty. Tiny symbols came together to spell out the name of Seth Black, along with both his office and cell phone number.
Fingers shaking, I took it from his hand while grasping it tightly, praying he wouldn’t pull it away. True to his word, the card was there in my grasp.
I couldn’t believe I had a direct line to a giant in my chosen field. Yet one still humble enough to remember where he came from.
If I had a chance, this was it. The work would probably be hard, and it would have to be balanced with class.
It could really kick my ass, but I wouldn’t expect anything less. If there was one thing I learned from my dad, it was that if you aspire to greatness, you should be ready to pay in blood. Creativity was not for the weak, and neither was true mastery.
“Thank you so much.”
My voice was so weak that for a moment it seemed I’d just thought that phrase instead of said it out loud. Had any sound actually escaped my mouth?
“You’re welcome,” he said, in a way that made me both want to cry and laugh at the same time.
So, I had managed to speak. And I had managed to land an in to a dream job, with the record label that had been such a big part of my music goals, particularly in high school. It was cliché, to be sure, yet still true, nonetheless.
Suspicious Activity’s records didn’t quite “save my life,” but like any good art, they made it a lot more bearable.
