Beyond the Coal Fields

A cold rain dumped from the sky as I drove to work in my black 6-speed Wrangler. Having a 4x4 is nearly mandatory in southern West Virginia, especially during the winter and spring. As I grab a lower gear and begin to climb up Coal Camp Mountain, I notice a blue mustang pulled off to the side; the driver is apparently waiting for the rain to subside and possibly waiting for the mountain to dry. Hate to bust the person's bubble but it's said to rain all day and a slight chance into tomorrow. I carry on with my mission like I do the other 4 days of the week. About midway up Coal Camp, I get stuck behind 3 coal trucks, all loaded and headed for the loading dock. The 18-wheelers swerve over into the slow lane and allow me to pass. Thankful for their gesture, I honk at all 3 drivers, receiving a loud honk honk from them as I speed past. As I top the mountain, a couple more vehicles are parked in a wide spot. This time a red Cavalier, an old green s10, and a little white Mazda. Down the other side I go. Water pours across a dip in the road that the ditch couldn't contain any longer. As I approach the bottom of the infamous Coal Camp Mountain, a cop and an ambulance sit off the road with their lights flashing indicating the lifted Ford truck in a ditch. The officer flags me around with a wave. It's only 7:15 and I've saw enough action in 10 minutes than I do in a month. My daddy always told me, for every raindrop that falls, an idiot forgets how to drive. He also told me in situations like this to use my gears, not my brakes.

My dad, Eric Quaid Hatfield, was the father every child should have. He was all about his family and making sure we had everything we could want. My daddy was an underground coal miner, so was his father, and even his father's father. I remember him coming in from work, covered in black coal dust from head to toe. Daddy was sure to always ask us about our day and tell us about his. I remember him arriving at a few football games covered in the black dust, just to watch me play in my highschool's percussion. He always cheered me on, supported my choices, and taught me life lessons. However, 18 months ago, he was taken from us. I knew something was off when Blankenship Energy called the families to come to Mossburg Mine, two hours after wondering where all those ambulances and black SUV's went. The Section 8 mine exploded from the dangerous combination of methane gas and coal dust. My father and his crew never knew what hit them, apparently, according to the CEO of Blankenship Energy. Just like that, my father was gone; along with 23 other men whom were only there to provide for their families. A nice memorial was erected for our fallen coal miners but some marble statue wasn't going to bring my daddy back home to us. That memorial wasn't responsible for the mine my father worked in for 11 years to suddenly go kaboom. Production over safety is exactly why my father isn't driving me to work today due to the torrential rain. I blame one man; Don Eisenlong, the CEO of Blankenship Energy.

Charleston hadn't gotten nearly as much rain as my little town did. Traffic was still horrible though, as always. I take the exit ramp onto Greenbrier Street and then a right to Louden Heights. Kiel's Music Hall wasn't but only another mile away; given that, I spark a cigarette. My Jeep takes the spot beside of my boss' shiny, gold colored Suburban. I quickly finish my Marlboro and flick it towards the dumpster. Today is Friday, which means a few people will be in for guitar lessons with Donovan, a talented 20 year old boy who should just go get a contract instead of waste his time here at Kiel's or in Charleston; even West Virginia for that matter.

My position is in the studio lobby as a secretary, basically. The job is quite simple, showing the aspiring musicians which studio they'll be recording in, answering a phone, scheduling sessions, and hanging out with the client until Mr. Maverick Kiel makes his appearance. I take the stairs to the second story of the building. My desk could use a little organization before we officially begin our day and I have to deal with people. My little space consists of pictures of my dad and mama and brother, a few autographed photos, notebooks, a laptop, and a phone. A few other odds and ends completed the area. I tidy up just before the 9:00 client exits the elevator. She's a short brunette with glasses; a pale pink dress falls just above her knees.
"Can I help you?" I ask.
"I have an appointment at 9 with Maverick. My name is Lyla Tincher." she replies.
I send Maverick a message stating his first appointment has arrived, "I've sent Mr. Kiel a message. Let's go ahead and get you in a studio." I say to Lyla.
We walk down the long hall until we reach Studio 5.
"What kind of music do you do?" I ask.
"Country. I'm shooting for a Loretta Lynn sound."
Maverick makes his appearance through the door; like he's waiting on an applause.
"Good luck!" I point toward the microphone and exit the studio.

Loretta Lynn?! Whatever. She'd need all the luck she could get to sound like the country music queen. I return back to my desk and glance at the schedule; next appointment is at 10:30. An hour of nothing to do. I decide to play a quick game of Spades on my laptop. My attention turns back to the elevator, where the doors open and Donovan steps out.
"Hiya." he acknowledges my presence.
"Mornin'."
"How's my schedule look for the day?" the man with dark brown hair covered by a beanie approaches my desk only to lean against it.
"Your first appointment is at 11:30 with a dude named, Alex Jarvis. A 1:45 session with a woman named, Maggie Lowe. At 2:45, you're with Michael Kinder. At 4:00, you've got an appointment with Kyle Parsons. So you'll be getting out around 5ish; not bad."
"Not a bad day. How packed is Kiel today?"
"He's got 4 today as well, his last one is with Logan King at 6:00 this evening. So we'll be out before him." I reply.
Donovan sighs, "Lucky you, you get to leave at 4:00 everyday."
I give him a smirk, causing him to smile.
"Well, I guess I'm gonna go get my shit ready and play a little before my first spawn arrives. Come down and jam out with me, if you get the chance." Donovan offers.
"I'll stop in on my way to lunch, I'll wait on ya." I match his shining grin. "Gaziano's?"
"Yummy, pizza sounds great for lunch." I concur. "I'll be down around 12:15." Donovan nods his head and begins walking back to elevator, "See ya then. Have fun up here with the asshat!"
His words make me giggle and I give him a wave before the doors close together.
Donovan is by far my favorite coworker ever. We usually grab lunch together and smoke a little weed in my Jeep before coming back from our break. He's a very laid back guy who goes with the flow and easy to get along with, also very silly.

Lyla Tincher and Mr. Kiel are apparently done. He gives her a pat on the back and wishes her on her way. Then the old bastard headed right back for his office without saying a word. He and I didn't really talk too much, other than the occasional "who's next?" . I honesty didn't mind though.

His 10:30 just stepped off the elevator, the tall tatted man strides toward my desk. Oh. My. God. I look down at the schedule in search of his name but instead, Emily Reed is written in the time slot. This hunk definitely isn't an Emily. "Howdy, how can I help you?" I ask.
"Maverick around?" the gentleman asks with a deep, sexy voice.
"Yes sir. He's in his office, I believe. One moment, I'll see if I can get him to pick up." Of course, he doesn't. I sigh.
"No answer?" he asks.
"No sir. I don't have a clue where he could be either. He was expectin' ya right?" "No, I don't have an appointment. We actually have a show tomorrow and I was wondering if he's still gonna let us rent a room to prepare and tune our shit." the man explains.
"Oh, I see. Let's walk down the hall to his office, maybe he was on the phone with someone." I spin my chair around and walk from behind the desk.
"Thanks. Um, what's your name?"
"Josie." I hold out my hand.
The gentleman accepts the handshake, "Matt."
I grin and nod my head.

We ease down to Maverick's office where I knock 3 times.
"Mr. Kiel!" I beat on his door again, "Hello?!"
"Well, who's second in command here?" Matt questions.
"I schedule all of the appointments. It's just Mr. Kiel, Donovan and I." I reply. "Can't you put us in the agenda for the rest of the day and some of tomorrow?" "Yeah, I can do that. Just have your guitar guy go to Donovan." I say as we walk back towards my desk.
"Where can I find Donovan?" Matt leans against my desk as he watches me scribble his name down, "And how much cash do I need to leave here to rent the studio and your guitar tech?"
"Donovan is back downstairs, I'll show you. I'm so sorry Mr. Kiel is no where to be found; he hasn't mentioned anything to me about leaving early today. But, I do have you scheduled in from 11:00 til close, which is 7:00." I smile. "As far as payment goes, I'm pretty sure Mr. Kiel rents the studios for $150. Donovan charges $30 for a tune up, you can talk to him about what you need."

The elevator door opens and another young girl steps out; a short red head with yellow Converse on. She approaches the desk. Matt looks between she and I, stepping aside so the woman can talk to me.
"I'm here to see Maverick Kiel." she speaks.
"Do you have an appointment?" I ask.
"Yeah, at 10:30. It's under Emily Reed."
"Emily, I'm sorry but Mr. Kiel left the building. I'm not even sure when he'll be back or where he went. I'll have to set you up a different appointment."
"What?! He can't just walk out when he has people waiting to see him! I've waited 3 fuckin' weeks for this shit. Now I have to reschedule?!" Emily raises her voice. "I have no idea where he went; he just... left! I'm sorry this is an inconvenience for you, really." I try to contain the situation.
"Bullshit! So he just leaves? Without telling his secretary anything? You know where the fuck he is. Tell that bald son of a bitch I want a refund!" Emily then slams her hands down on the desk, "better yet, you give me one! You're the bitch I paid last time."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Matt uses his arm as a divider between us, "listen here sweetheart, there's no sense in calling this little lady names. Apparently, she has no idea what the fuck is going on. We even walked back to his office, he wasn't there. So settle the fuck down."
Emily looks up at the towering man, her mouth agape. She then turns back to me, "I just want a refund for this session, I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't mean to raise hell."
"I can do that, and I accept your apology. He was here earlier, even saw his first client. He's not said a word to me this mornin'." I say, causing Emily to look down, apparently feeling bad for the behavior she had just showed.
I take that moment to mouth thank you to Matt; which he responds with a nod and a grin.
"Here ya go." I hand Emily over the full refund. "Again, I'm sorry for the inconvience."
Emily turns back to the elevator and leaves, not saying a word.
"Don't worry about cunts like her, you can't always please everyone." Matt smirks. "Yeah."
"Here's the money to pay for the studio. There's also an extra $10 to get yourself a coffee. You deserve it for putting up with a horrible boss and his bitchy clients." he chuckles.
"No, I can't. Here, I can buy my own coffee." I attempt to deny his favor.
"Take it."
"I'll pay you back then." I push.
This makes Matt laugh loudly, "Girl, after today, you may not ever see me again. I travel quite a bit. You can pay me back by taking me to find this Donovan you speak of."
I giggle at his request, but I lead the way.

Down the elevator we go, off to see Donovan. He isn't very hard to find once on the first floor when he's shredding his guitar, you just follow the sound; Matt and I do so. We go through a set of double doors, the music becoming louder and louder. The stranger beside of me begins to smile, he apparently likes what he hears. Over in the corner behind a huge speaker, we find Donovan. He stops playing once he spots us.
"Hey. What's up?" Donovan gives me a side hug and shakes Matt's hand.
"He was needin' some of your skills." I point to Matt, who walks toward Donovan. "Matt," he introduces himself, "you must be Donovan, the guitar guru, huh?" he chuckles.
"Yeah..." Donovan gazes at the gentleman, "what can I possibly do for you?"
"I need a few guitars tuned in. Here's a list that Brian gave me, I have two sets of guitars; rhythm and lead." Matt responds.
"I'll leave you two alone, I'm gonna grab me a coffee from Bean's." I wink.

Donovan stares at Matt in awe. Matt gives me a sexy dimpled smile and waves me on. I can't help but to think what is going on with Donovan, I've never saw him act this way with a client. I'll grab him a coffee, too. Maybe he needs a little caffeine? Weird.

Notes

Thanks for reading. I'm open to all of your critiques and opinions! Please, I want to hear them.

This one is a little tougher to compose, I wanted to try something really different. Hoping to update weekly, may or may not work out that way.

Again, thank you reading!

-Sky