Some producer. Tyrone tells you to get a drink while he talks

Tyrone frowns, snapping pictures, but whoever is calling isn't giving up. "Damn," he says, and reaches for the phone, looking at the screen. "I've gotta take this. It's a producer."

The word 'producer' makes your ears perk up, and you look over your shoulder at him in interest, forgetting for the moment to straighten up.

"Yeah? Hey Dave, give me a moment. I got a girl here. No, not like that. Just hang on," he insists a little impatiently, like he wants to use stronger language. "Hey Amber, why don't you help yourself to a drink?"

"Yeah, her name is Amber. Look, I'll send you the portfolio after. Now what were you calling me for?"

Following Tyrone's finger you walk toward a white mini-fridge, swaying your hips seductively as you go and hoping he notices. You don't normally encourage older men to look at you like that, but it certainly never hurt to make the teachers get a show, so the principle should apply here too, right?

"Yeah, I can make that work..." you hear Tyrone say, and open the fridge. There's an assortment of drinks inside, and the cool air is a welcome relief in what feels like a hot room.

"Lots of beer," you mutter, noticing some soda, fruit juice, water and other things as well.