The Cloud Experience

It was a loud New York afternoon; the city was alive as ever fit with the most creative poetry. It was enough that it would make even a sailor blush; that language echoed from its inhabitants alongside the melodies of car horns as most were stuck in mid-day traffic. Despite it being a Saturday, which is not a typical workday, nobody would know the difference, especially if it's your first time in the city like it was for Hayley Aviid. Cars were packed together tightly like sardines and were making snail races seem like a scene from those racing movies her father enjoyed in comparison.

Of course, this would be frustrating for anyone, especially for a 19-year-old girl stuck on a trip with her father, a journey that, given the opportunity to choose, she wouldn't even want to be on. She was much happier back in her flat in Brentwood, Los Angeles, than stuck in a predicament she was in now. She was stuck in an SUV with her father, who sat beside the girl in the backseat, working on something on a laptop, not even looking up to converse with her. Not that she had been one for conversation since this trip started either way.

The teenager would audibly sigh, bringing her hand through her chestnut brown curly hair that had been styled beforehand, messing it up a little bit. It felt more natural this way, and she smiled at her little act of rebellion. This is why she kept disobeying her father's plea to allow the professionals to do their jobs regarding her hair. They weren't wearing it on their heads; they shouldn't have the final say.

Finally, though, the girl succumbed to the boredom, letting out a long dramatic sigh and huffing a bit before resting her head on the window. She'd gaze every once in a while around at her surroundings; after all, New York wasn't an ugly city. It just wasn't the one she wanted to be in. It held no immediate connection to the girl, and if she had her way, it never would. Once today was over, she'd be back at her place, continuing to live her enchanted bachelorette life, and more importantly, not stuck in an SUV that was going a whopping 7 miles per hour.

The teenager must have kept her eyes on the window for about 15 minutes, observing everything. People walked with carelessness and arrogance; they were too busy to acknowledge each other. The small stores caught her eyes when they passed them; her eyes widened in wonder; everything was jam-packed. If only she had a choice, she'd visit quite a few of them, especially the old record store. But when traffic eventually moved a bit, she couldn't help but notice that even New Yorkers' fashion choices made her laugh a bit, including a man wearing nothing but a suit made of newspaper. It almost reminded her of home and how accessible everyone was to be themselves, not Los Angeles but instead the great city of Toronto.

She often imagined what life growing up in Los Angeles would be like; more than likely, she would own a purse dog and a ton of purses may be a different one for each day of the year, and one closet full of designer shoes and another just for her unnecessary designer clothes all with some gold lace infused in it, not counting the closet just for her dresses that were as fancy as most dream wedding dresses that she wouldn't wear except for on proper occasions. The brunette shuddered at the thought of being a part of that pathetic crowd. Not being able to think for yourself itself was bad enough, she thought, but having a silver spoon in her mouth would probably do her head in.

She had some displeasure with Hollywood, well not just some; she had a notebook full of everything she couldn't stand about the place. Anyone who has ever had the pleasure or displeasure (depending on who you'd ask) of meeting her would tell you that. But she didn't hate all the glitz and glam that did come with Los Angeles; it was unique compared to everywhere else because there wasn't one culture in LA, and there was a place for everyone if you could afford it. She thought LA and NYC weren't very different from the short time she had observed the Bronx. This city also had a unique feel, maybe because, so far as she could tell, there wasn't care for who you were or where you were from. Based on her assessment, the hardened expressions of suits and the rush of people moving through the concrete jungles on what is supposed to be slow days paired with the hectic traffic, which surely would drive her crazy very soon told her that this place was unique in the same sense that Los Angeles was.

However, her gaze wasn't focused on the surrounding of the jungle for much longer as her head turned almost immediately at the familiar sound of a laptop closing. She'd finally see the man who was sitting beside her, his caramel hair combed back, looking like that one mafia movie she watched once with her father. She was amused at how well the hair dye hid most of the gray in his hair. Hayley would offer a small smile in her father's direction, hoping that he was done and they could escape the torturous traffic, maybe end up in a quiet place for a while and see parts of the city that you don't hear about in every blog about New York.

The older man's gaze caught the girl. His, by default, hardened expression softened after seeing her. The facial expression he read back amused him, clearly noting that they'd have to find a way to avoid traffic on their way out of the city. "I'm guessing, and this could be wrong; judging by that look on your face Hayley, you're having nearly as much fun as I am?"

The brunette opened her mouth to complain, but before she could, an obnoxious car horn interrupted her. Deciding to let cool heads prevail before she lost hers, Hayley started to do a few breathing techniques her mother showed her when she was little. "It's not that I- it's not that I'm not having fun being here with you because I am. But just sitting in this car going 2 miles an hour makes me want to throw myself out the window headfirst. Dad, now that I think about it, do you know what I think? If you were tasked with coming up with a torture device to get secrets out of a prisoner and you came up with this, it would be banned for cruel and unusual punishment. I mean, why do you even have to do this? Couldn't we have done this over a Skype call or something?"

Her father began to laugh as the girl overreacted and was as dramatic as ever. When she finished her miniature tirade, she let out a childish huff, much like her mother, a trait he found endearing in both of them. "No, I'm afraid I couldn't have, somethings you just have to do in person, and I would've let you stay home, but after last time, we both know why that's out of the equation." Hayley would open her mouth, ready to push that apology out, but her father already had his hand up as all was already forgiven. It was just a party, and he knew she didn't mean for it to go as far as it did. She was a good kid, and one little incident wouldn't change his mind.

"We both know we can't change the past, however..." He'd pause as his eyes surveyed the stores around them before stopping. "I think that's a Barnes and Noble around the corner. You could wait for me there, and we can rendezvous after I'm done. Pick me up a few good books for the way back; it will probably be a long flight back. So something to do would help your old man out a bit." The old man said as he turned to look at his daughter, who had already unfastened her seat belt. Always in a rush; since she was a kid to get to the next place, she wouldn't enjoy the rush

As if a spell had been cast on the girl, the black cloud of negative energy had dissipated. Instinctively, her hand shot out to open her door, much like a child trapped in a long car ride to the park. Immediately then, there were about 20 unique car horns serenading her, none necessarily directed at her action per se, but that was all it took to prompt her father to reach over and make sure to slam the door shut. Hayley's face turned a bright red as she turned to face her father, who didn't seem amused with his daughter's recklessness.

He was about to comment on her recklessness but decided better on it; she seemed well enough embarrassed and hopefully wouldn't make a mistake like that again. It was not more than two minutes before the vehicle had reached a safe space for Hayley to walk out. It was indeed a sight to see the brunette fly out the vehicle's door, though she didn't exactly make it more than a few feet before stumbling, which garnered a laugh out of the old man.

Still, she took it in stride after catching her balance. Hayley began navigating her way through the concrete jungle. It wasn't her classic sexy strut that society pushed onto her, but she did attempt to walk with her swagger. New York was a city all about swagger, or so she'd have read on her flight over, and despite not wanting to be here, she was not going to look out of place. So off she went; the mighty Hayley Aviid took off down the street, and by extension, she took the city by storm, pushing her way through the traffic pile-up of humans, earning a bunch of colorful insults that she'd need to write down and keep for later.

Still, she pushed on with her journey, and within a few minutes, she stood outside the Barnes & Noble and felt somewhat proud; she made it here and didn't get lost in the crowd, which was a nice plus. But still, she stood outside the store now, not feeling the urgency to walk in. To the outside eye, it might've been amusing, especially if they had seen it from the start. The girl who wouldn't slow down finally arrived and didn't know what to do now that she was there. The saving grace that would save her from at least a few more questions would be the fact the city was far too busy to notice someone standing still, unlike when someone finds themself pushing their way through.

Minutes passed, and hundreds of busy souls walked past the girl, not one stopping to ask a particular question. She still, as those minutes passed, stayed eerily still; that was until a warm hand found itself on her shoulder as the culprit had been tapping on her shoulder for a few moments. Hayley couldn't turn before the unfamiliar raspy voice asked, " What, you ain't ever seen a friggin 'Barnes and Noble or something?"

To imply she was shocked or caught off guard would be a gross understatement; before she even heard the voice speak, she was shook to the core, being in her own world in her head and ripped back into the world where she stood outside of a store instead of a studio just on the outskirts of Toronto just by a few taps on the shoulder. Still, though, after hearing the mystery assailant's intoxicating voice, the millionaire princes turned to reveal the individual who had yanked her back to reality. Much to her disappointment, it wasn't her ideal prince to match her princess, which felt like a major cocktease considering the voice on the male; it was just an ordinary punk she'd seen a thousand times already, with long brown hair that covered a quarter of his face and a snapback a white t-shirt that hugged the male's body tightly and a pair of ripped black jeans.

It would only take a leather jacket and a cheap gold chain to finish the outfit, and best of all, it would be only the thousandth time she's seen that style. But instead of judging this man's fashion choices, there were a few other pressing issues. For instance, the punk standing in front of her now who undoubtedly wanted a response, and of course, the problem with her feet suddenly being stuck in the concrete in front of the store. "I've seen one before; I was just, uh, taking in the scenery. The view is really nice, don't you think?"

She'd scold herself mentally as she'd have thought of about twenty thousand better responses, yet she somehow only made word soup. It's not as if she got flustered easily, especially when it came to talking to guys. It was arguably one of her favorite skills, the way she could tie up boys like they were sneakers. Now it was she, however, who was tripping over the hypothetical shoelace. He didn't even look bothered by her fumbling; he wasn't focused on that or her if his body language was a sign. "Well, are you going in, or do you want to continue to admire the view of a generic store exterior and block the entrance of those who want to enter the store?"

Hayley internally noted this guy was an insufferable jerk and shouldn't be worth her time; even if his voice was doing something to her, it wasn't worth it if he was going to act like an ass. So she just stepped aside and let the jerk walk into the store. Suddenly, however, she found an urge to stand there no longer, and she, too, made her way into the store. Although, without a doubt, it could be correlated to the fact she wanted to get the books for her father, there was probably an equal probability that her newfound enthusiasm had something to do with wanting to see if the jerkface made another rude comment. Which would give her reason to flip out on him; worth her time or not, she wouldn't put up with jerks.

"Hey Julie, you bring the goods or what?" the raspy voice called out to the store clerk, who happened to be the only other person in the store at the moment, which was odd, Hayley thought.

The long-haired blonde looked away from the magazine she was reading and smiled. "Hey, brown eyes, everything is set up in your corner. Just go easy on it; we might get some business today."

"Yeah, who knows, people might actually walk inside instead of standing in front of the door, plus eventually someone's gonna have an ear for actual music and will be coming in here to hear it." The jerk retorted, not aware he'd been followed in. He'd put on his headphones and make his way over to a back corner of the store, now leaving the blonde with Hayley.

The blonde would notice soon after that she did have a customer and probably should try and get some sales. It would help keep the place open and save one of the easiest jobs the blonde has had. "Hi, can I help you find something? You look like you'd be the type to want to pick up the new Kim Edwards novel. I think it's probably her best work since 'Lie for Me.'"

"Well, alright, but I'm looking for some books for my dad. Do you have any suggestions for an old rich guy who wants to read instead of golfing like all the other record label owners?" Hayley asked while looking at Blondie's outfit. Her name was Julie; she thought she overheard the jerk call her that, but one can never really be too sure.

"Nope, I can't say I sell many books for rich old guys, but I might have one thing for you, maybe. Do you mind just staying here while I find it? I'll be right back, I swear." She said before making a quick exit from behind her counter towards the corner where jerkface went.

As Julie left, Hayley's gaze followed right over to the table where he was sitting, and Hayley's attention immediately shifted. Now it wasn't on the admittedly cute blonde but instead on the punk who got on her nerves. No longer was his snapback holding up his long black hair, which gave him more of that annoying, rude, disrespectful rock star look. If her father were here right now, it wouldn't be long before he had an opportunity to sign with DEAO Records; thankfully, he wasn't because, on top of it all, the last thing she needed was another unbearable jerk she had to pretend to like.

Still, though, she had to admit, despite every negative thought racing through her body, she wouldn't deny he was attractive if you're into that kind of thing. The more she thought about it would be the kind of guy her father approved of because at least he wasn't dressed like a weenie, whatever that meant.

Her mind raced at the thought of that, and it would be a total nightmare, right? Very suddenly, she was shaken out of her wandering mind when a pile of books was dropped on the counter in front of her

"See, as I said, it would only take a moment, but I got you 'Golf for Beginners' 'Rich & Old' and 'The Romp Room, Velvet edition' don't ask about the last one, but I figure this should give him a clue about golf. Now, outside of that, is there anything else I can help you with? Maybe we get you something yourself, Miss Aviid?"

Usually, that would be highly suspicious; however, Hayley saw the tabloid magazine she was reading, which would be a dead giveaway seeing how she was on the front page. "No, that'll be alright, but I have a question; what is that man's name?" She said, now looking exactly at jerkface and his stupid hair and his cute face.

"You mean Skye? That's weird. I thought you two knew each other since he was talking to you outside," Julie asked, a bit confused. They were talking beforehand, and every time she had the opportunity, Hayley was looking in his direction.

"No, he just, uh, asked me a question, and we talked about the views of New York. Y'know, just street talk, but uh, he seemed very, uh, well, okay, there's not a nice way to say this; he was a jerk."

"Was he now? Before I go and make him apologize, did you say anything rude to him first? Because while he's a pain in the ass, he's usually just a pain in the ass to people he knows." The blonde's facial expressions changed as she heard the news. Skye was one of her favorite customers, but that doesn't mean she'd tolerate disrespect.

"No, ma'am, and it's not necessary. I was just pointing out he and I don't know each other at all."

Truth be told, she did want an apology, but not because the now scary petite blonde chewed the jerkface known as Skye. But this is how she was going to get it, so she might as well take it, and she did as she followed as the little blonde moved towards the punk who was still sitting in his corner working on a laptop.

"Brown eyes, we have a problem; Miss Aviid said you were rude to her outside the store. Do you have anything you want to admit or apologize for?" Her snarkiness got Skye's attention rather quickly, getting him to focus on the situation around him now with two girls surrounding his workspace.

"Nah, I just asked her to get outta the way; I ain't even curse; your aunt woulda been proud." The punk responded, showing no genuine sincerity or regret for his behavior earlier, which Hayley picked up on.

"Quit being an ass and apologize." The blonde said in almost an authoritative tone, which was confusing to the brunette because they looked about similar in age.

"Cussing again, Julie; wait till your aunt hears about this," Skye responded, trying his best to move the argument into something else.

"Yeah, she'll want to hear about who took her good bottle of wine and the 30 dollars off the table, too. Now quit your games and apologize, you punk." Julie quipped back now, getting the argument on her side and back on track.

The girl left out of this conversation was amused at the closeness and bickering between the two. It felt like the old couples she saw on a couple of her tv shows who'd go back and forth for hours if you'd let them. The chemistry was there; she wondered how close their relationship was. Of course, she wasn't necessarily thinking that they were, in fact, dating; however, they were bickering as they could've been.

"Fine, ma'am. I apologize for being an ass and being rude to you." Skye conceded, not wanting this to take another minute longer than it had. His project on the computer was nearly completed, and he had been listening back to the track he was remixing.

"It's cool, don't worry about it. Hey, is that the new H-Kid track?" She asked, confused as while she was aware H-Kid (or as she knew him, Devon Kenyan) signed with DEAO records, she wasn't aware he'd been releasing tracks yet; from the little attention she paid, nothing was supposed to be released for a few weeks.

"Yeah, are you a fan?' He asked, which gathered a hard shake of her head. Hayley hadn't liked the guy since his first album; he became just another rich prick who used his celebrity status to act as if he was better than everyone. "Me either; he's just another corporate ingrate stuck making music he doesn't fit in with and probably doesn't care about. I mean, he can't dress like a punk kid and then sing about how much he dreams, how the world changes, and we all need more love. It's hypocritical and insincere, and I-"

There was a long pause after that as Hayley and Skye now made direct eye contact as they both started to let their thoughts race, his of the belief that she thought he was a psycho for caring about one dude's music that much. While her mind started to note and analyze everything that he had said to Hayley, it made sense, but it sold albums, which is good for business.

"Sorry I just, I love music and hate inauthentic people, and when I listen, I get too passionate." Now it was the role reversal; Skye struggled to find the words to explain to the Brunette what he meant.

"It's cool; I like that you're passionate. So many people accept whatever garbage they hear on the radio without listening to what it is they're listening to. It's refreshing for someone to actually comment on the fact that most artists seem to be inauthentic to their music." She agreed with a lot that he had said, and it appeared that maybe her opinion wasn't just the minority.

Hayley privately had disliked most of the music that had been put out recently because of how the actual artists were compared to their music. But it's not possible to have that opinion publicly and be the daughter of one of the biggest record labels in North America.

"That is exactly why I do what I do, basically reproducing all the new music that gets put out so people that care can listen to true and authentic sounding music." He added, now turning the volume up on his headphones so they both could hear it letting the punk rock guitar riff instead of the safe generic beat that everyone has repackaged and listened to a billion times.

"Wait, so you are a producer then?" Hayley asked with a look that Skye nor Julie, who had made her way back to the original desk, couldn't quite make out.

"I guess? I mean, by no means am I an industry leader, but I at least try to bring authenticity to the songs," He added, now closing up the laptop finished with the one song he had wanted to finish today.

"So I'm not going to beat around the bush; I liked what you did with that song. I was hoping you could send it to me so I can send it to my father. If he likes it, I want to offer you a job as a producer at DEAO records. Now, this would mean you theoretically could tell those inauthentic soulless artists what exactly is wrong with how they make their music."

Hayley technically didn't have the authority to hire him; however, as the owner's daughter, that was some yellow tape she would cut through. Plus, she was sure her dad would like it. After all, he had always told her, 'the industry is a game, but the best thing is we can change the industry by changing the rules.' He technically didn't have any experience, but the people with expertise sucked, so it might have been a good thing. She looked at the guy she had considered up until two minutes ago, a total jerkface hoping to see excitement, but he was extremely relaxed.

"I mean, if you worked for DEAO records, that would be a cool offer, but I think we both know you don't, and you don't know anyone who does, so let's not waste our time. I'll send you the song, though." Skye said with the utmost neutrality he wasn't bitter or angry about the offer, which normally is the reaction when they don't believe her.

Growing up, however, she became accustomed to this reaction, which is why she took out her phone and searched who the owner of DEAO records was and showed it to the guy sitting across from her. Then she took the phone back and showed a photo of Hayley and her father sitting together, and much like with almost everyone else, the reaction was priceless. Skye sat there looking at the picture, dumbfounded that she was the daughter of Nicholas Aviid, the owner of the legendary DEAO records. Almost every major artist of the early 2000s got their start at that record company; the opportunity would be huge if he took it.

"Look here; I'll leave my card here because I have stuff to do, but send me the song, and I'm going to get in touch with you after I talk to my father. If you want to do business, I mean, here's your chance but Skye if I can give you some advice, you usually don't get opportunities like this often, so if i get the green light to sign you, don't waste your shot." She said to leave her card with her phone number and business email.

After a few moments, she'd walk off, leaving the calm, cool, collected jerkface stuck, sitting there, unsure exactly what to do. Potentially, a life-changing opportunity was sitting on a dish, and it was only a few feet in front of him. The decision was easy. You accept, there has to be a new building set up in New York City. You'll work there and soon repay the debt you owe to people at this point. But that still is a lot of pressure because now one of the most powerful men in the music world would judge you. Each racing thought kept his anxiety spiking to new points. He could already tell whether this failed or not. He would need something more potent than the wine he swiped last week. He finally picked up his phone, attaching the files to his song, and sent them to the female tornado who just came and potentially just turned his entire life upside down.

"Fuck!" He said rather loudly before setting his head down. Thankfully Julie was the only one in the store, and she didn't bother to ask what about. This will be an excruciatingly long day until he hears back from Miss Aviid.