“Before you came into my life I was capable of making all kinds of decisions. Now I can’t. I’m addicted. I have to know what you think. What do you think?”
—Two Weeks Notice
Liz
Oh my God—is that…?
It was seven o’clock and the sun was barely up, so most of Westwood was still asleep.
But not me.
I was out for a run.
And so was that guy, Mr. I’m-Trying-to-Break-a-Land-Speed-Record with the long legs. He was way in front of me, an extraordinarily tall dude who was probably a freshman basketball player, and I narrowed my eyes.
No, I definitely do not know that giant.
“Ever Since New York” played in my AirPods, an underrated Harry song and also, in my opinion, a total slice of autumn. Even though it was warm in LA, my head was already Stars Hollow–vibing because the fall quarter had officially arrived.
Which meant my playlists were buried in musical piles of freshly raked leaves.
Yes, it’s a little too early for a PSL playlist, but I don’t care.
Because the 1rst day of classes felt magical. It was almost like you could smell
the crisp, unmarred freshness of a new term. It seemed like anything in the world
was possible.
Especially this year.
After two years of applying for meaningless industry jobs that did nothing to further my future career except teach me the easiest way to transport coPee from store to office, I had an internship.
And not just any internship.
It was with Lilith Grossman.
I realized, when I waved to the groundskeeper who was hosing down the sidewalk, that I was smiling like a weirdo, but I couldn’t help it.
Because I actually landed a gig for my junior year that had the potential to pay huge dividends in my future.
And it started today.
Last year, one of my roommates (Clark) worked for the athletic department’s video production team. I didn’t know anything about most sports, but he told me they had a part-time paid opening, so I thought, What the hell?
I applied because I needed money.
It wasn’t an internship; it was just a part-time student job. A job that I fell in love with.
I was just a grunt who took photos and videos of athletes—at practice, during games, during lifting; that was my job. I basically just did whatever they needed me to do, hauling equipment to all varieties of athletic events.
At 1rst I sucked at all of it. And then I sucked less.
Because it scratched my creative itch. Just like music had the power to transform a moment in 1lm, I realized that the way I captured an athlete with my camera had the power to create a story. Even though I was just a lackey in the department, I personally got a lot out of it.
So when the announcement came that Lilith Grossman, award-winning documentary producer, was going to be making a sports documentary at UCLA and needed an intern, I applied in a heartbeat.
Mostly because she worked for HEFT Entertainment.
Not only was she an accomplished video producer in the sports world, but she was a producer who had countless projects with my dream company. HEFT
Entertainment consisted of HEFT Motion Pictures and HEFT Television, as well as HEFT Music. Both sides of the company were huge and worked with the biggest names in music and 1lm.
If they were winning an Oscar or a Grammy, they were probably with HEFT. So obviously, as someone who wanted to be a music supervisor for 1lm and television, getting an internship there was huge. A lot of my heroes had gotten
their starts there, and now I was going to be one of them.
I still couldn’t believe it.
Technically the internship started today, but Lilith and I had been working together for a few weeks now. She’d reached out to see if I’d be interested in helping her get things set up on campus. She’d have an office at Morgan (the J.D. Morgan Center was where the staP and admin for all athletic teams had their offices) for the duration of the project, and since I had stayed in LA over the summer when most of my friends had not, I jumped at the chance.
And it had been the best decision.
I hadn’t known what to expect from a successful producer—I’d kind of assumed she’d be an asshole, to be honest—but she was the opposite. She was this incredibly successful woman who seemed to want to share—with me!— everything that she knew.
She took me to lunch at a sushi place at the Grove, and she asked me about my goals. And when I told her, she pulled a pen out of her handbag and started mapping—on a napkin—how best she thought I could achieve them.
And her insight was everything.
Because my plan had been to get my BA in Music Industry with a Music Supervision concentration, and then… pray for a job somewhere in music supervision.
But Lilith turned me on to the idea of getting a job in music licensing as a 1rst step.
In licensing, you’ll work with music, but you’ll also work with film and TV.
You’ll be earning a salary—very important, that whole money thing—while creating these valuable relationships that will ultimately be the key to getting the job you really want.
Then she went on to list a handful of my idols who’d apparently gotten their
starts in licensing.
And it made so much sense.
Music supervisors worked with licensing on a daily basis, so how better to get my foot in the door? Now, in addition to the courses required for my degree, I was loading up on everything licensing-related and tacking on a licensing certi1cation.
It truly felt like a road map to my dreams.
I’m smiling again, I realized as I stopped at the corner to wait on the light.
I was smiling like a damn fool, jogging in place, but it was impossible not to. Because this year was about to be everything.
Honestly, I was still beaming like a middle schooler in love when I walked into my 1rst class.
“Are you kidding me right now, Buxbaum?”
I grinned even bigger as I headed for the front of Horace’s classroom. “What?”
“What?” Horace Hanks, music professor and my all-time favorite teacher, gestured in my direction. “It’s the 1rst day of class and you don’t even bring a notebook? A backpack? A pencil? I’m insulted by your lack of school supplies.”
“Come on, Hor,” I said, sitting down at the same desk I’d frequented for all four of his classes I’d previously taken. “You and I both know that you don’t just teach—you perform. I’ve learned that the best way to capture your… um, brilliance is to record your class and just rewatch before exams.”
“I don’t hate the sound of that,” he said, scratching his bald head. “But my feelings are still bruised by the disrespect.”
“My apologies,” I said, pulling out my phone to make sure it was silenced. Horace lost his mind when a phone went oP.
I hit record when class (Psychology and Music Management) began, and the man did not disappoint. He’d always reminded me of that drama teacher on Victorious (which was probably why I liked him so much), teaching in a wildly unorthodox manner that was equal parts hilarious and embarrassing.
One time he’d sung an entire lecture. In falsetto.
His methods were bonkers, but somehow they worked. I always learned so much from him.
My next class was in the same building (though less entertaining and more boring), and after that, I headed to Morgan for my 1rst official internship meeting. I was nervous, even though Lilith had been super nice the times we’d met, because she was so amazing that I didn’t want her to see how amazing I wasn’t.
I approached her office, where I could see her working at her computer, and I knocked on the open door. “Knock, knock.”
She looked up and smiled. “Come in and sit, Liz.”
God, the woman was cool. She had a blond bob, with razor-sharp ends so crisp, it looked like she’d just left the salon. She was wearing a navy blazer over a white button-down shirt with the collar Aipped up, ripped jeans, and a pair of tall red pumps. She had that pulled-together LA look about her, like she was ready to do a photo shoot for Vogue called Business-Casual Chic.
I took a seat in one of her guest chairs and said, “So how’s it going?” It was impossible for me not to small talk when I was nervous.
“Great, actually,” she said, giving me a warm smile. “I had a meeting this morning with the AD, and we have a lot of exciting ideas for this project.”
“That’s fantastic,” I said, so excited to be part of this. “Any you can share?” “Well, I’ll share everything with you because we’re a team, but I want to wait
until they give me the stamp of approval. I don’t want to get your hopes up for what I think is a brilliant plan if it doesn’t happen.”
“That’s fair.”
“So here’s your 1rst internship assignment,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. “First of all, email me your class schedule—and your work schedule—so I know when you’re available for networking, but include which courses you’re taking and who your instructors are.”
“Okay,” I said coolly, like I wasn’t freaking out that she was talking about networking.
“Your coursework is priority because you need that degree, but I really think we need to make the most out of this internship from a career standpoint, don’t you?”
I couldn’t be cool when she said things like that. I mean, Lilith Grossman, saying that to me? Yeah, I couldn’t hold back the thousand-watt nerd-grin as I nodded. Because Lilith had all the connections I could ever dream about.
My voice was a little too excited when I nodded and agreed. “Absolutely I do.”
“If you’re willing to devote the time, I say we lean hard into creating some foundational business relationships.”
“I’m de1nitely willing,” I said, regretting the tiny squeal in my voice.
“Perfect. And the second part of your assignment,” she said, glancing at her watch before abruptly standing and pushing her chair behind her with the backs of her knees, “is to watch a season of HBO Hard Knocks—any season, really.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
She grabbed a set of keys from the corner of the desk and put her phone in her jacket pocket. “I have to head out, but send me the info and watch a season of the show. I’ll be in touch in the next couple days, hopefully with all the initial project information.”
“Sounds great.”
I very nearly skipped to Epicuria at Ackerman for food after that, buzzing in anticipation of everything that was about to happen in my life. It felt like the sun was shining brighter that day, the birds were chirping louder, and I wanted to do cartwheels across campus after I ordered food and took it back to the production office.
It felt like I was on the precipice of everything 1nally happening, and it was impossible not to hum along to the “You Could Start a Cult” (my favorite song at the moment) that was playing in my headphones.
When I got to my cubicle, upstairs and on the other side of the building from Lilith’s office, I wolfed down a salad at my desk and edited some of the footage I’d taken of the football players on move-in day for a Reel I was making. I was still doing the grunt-work job for the athletic department, so that tiny cube kind of felt like home.
“Hey,” Clark said, dropping his stuP onto his desk. “I thought you were going to do the baseball team lift this morning.”
“I traded with Cody because I had an early class,” I said, not looking up from my computer. “So now I’m doing their practice this afternoon.”
“A lot of new freshmen,” he said, and I heard the tone of his laptop turning on. “Am I old if I say they all look like little babies?”
“They do, though,” I agreed, thinking back to my freshman year. It was all a blur now, thank God, a fuzzy haze of stress and sad songs on repeat. “It’s bizarre that we were that wide-eyed and adorable just two short years ago.”
“You can spot ’em a mile away, too,” he agreed, his keyboard clicking. “It’s even in the way they walk to class. Something about their steps screams this is my first time. It’s like they clench their nervous asses and it gives them a weird gait.”
“Do you know if there’s any more ranch in the fridge?” I asked, taking a drink of water to wash down my very dry lettuce.
“It’s all expired.” “Dammit.”
“We need to go grocery shopping for the work fridge, because I also noticed there’s no ketchup or horseradish.”
I minimized my 1le to 1nd another image. “Who needs horseradish at work?” “Who doesn’t?” Clark sounded dead serious. “Horseradish is good on
everything.” “Says you.”
We worked like that, side by side, for a couple of hours, barely speaking. It was always that way with us. Clark was like my platonic soulmate. I was as comfortable with him as I was with myself, and sometimes it felt like we were just extensions of each other.
Well, except for the horseradish adoration. That was all him.
Finally, at three o’clock, he towered over my cube and said, “Should we head over to Jackie?”
Jackie Robinson Stadium was where the baseball team did their thing. I nodded and saved my work. “So what do they want exactly?”
“Just some general baseball preseason content,” he said, shrugging before raising his hands to adjust his hair. “Lifting, practicing—a couple Reels showing this year’s team.”
“Cool,” I said, closing my laptop and sliding it into its bag. “That should be easy.”
“Yup. No big deal at all.”
We headed toward his truck, nearly getting mowed down by a couple of bros on scooters while we walked toward the parking lot. I smiled in spite of the near- miss, though, because nothing said school was back in session like nearly getting run over by an e-scooter.
