by Lisa Jackson
Maren’s nerves were stretched more tightly than piano strings. It had been a long day and she wasn’t up to guessing games with a man who could very well decide her future. She tried to focus all of her attention on the recording. The beat was unfamiliar. “No.”
She shook her thick copper-colored hair and cocked her head thoughtfully. The blend of voices and musical instruments was distinctive. “I don’t think I’ve heard it, but the group sounds like Mirage.”
“It is. The song is the title track from their next album.”
Maren nodded noncommittally. It was the album for which Festival didn’t have a signed contract. Was Kyle toying with her? Why? She sensed that he expected something more from her, but she didn’t understand what. The entire situation added to her unease. She shifted uncomfortably in the seat and turned her attention to the view from the window of the car.
The city was alive. Motorists and pedestrians crowded the concrete streets. Several popular restaurants sat on the edge of the boulevard and traffic snarled as cars attempted to squeeze into parking spaces.
The people were as diverse as the city itself. Maren smiled to herself as she saw punk rockers dressed in outrageous leather outfits walking next to couples conventionally attired in silk dresses and conservative business suits. Only in L.A., she thought. It was a city of glitter and serene beauty, home for the very rich or the incredibly poor, a city caught between the sea and the mountains in an incongruous collection of communities joined together in four hundred and sixty-five square miles. Where else could you drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Mojave Desert, or tour through Beverly Hills and Hollywood in the beautiful Santa Monica Mountains? Maren had lived in southern California all her life and had never grown tired of the warm climate or the ever-changing city of Los Angeles.
As they continued to travel west on Wilshire Boulevard, Maren eyed the bold skyscrapers of the business district of L.A. Lights from the man-made towers illuminated the night. Grand hotels built in the flourish and style of the twenties stood next to the more austerely constructed office buildings of the seventies.
Elegant palms swayed in the wind moving inland from the ocean. The air was clear and warm, adding to the feeling of electricity in the air. It was the kind of California evening that Maren had learned to love. If not for the tension within the confines of the car, she could envision herself enjoying this evening.
When the song ended, Kyle ejected the tape. The silence in the car became oppressive. His fingers rubbed over the smooth plastic surface of the cassette, as if he were rolling a weighty decision over in his mind. “Here,” he finally stated. “This is your copy of the music.” He placed the black rectangle in her hand. “Five of the thirteen cuts on the album are on that tape. We plan to release them as singles about every four to six weeks, depending on how they do on the charts. The first song is scheduled for the end of May.”
“Next month?” she inquired, accepting the cassette and wondering why it felt so cold.
“That’s right.”
“Not much time,” she thought aloud. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to produce a video that would be ready for release in six weeks.”
“You’ll have to,” he retorted sharply.
“Then I guess you intend to sign the contract.”
“Of course.”
Maren pinched her lower lip between her teeth. Finally she shook her head and turned it toward him, in order that she could watch his reaction. “You’re cutting it too close.”
His voice softened. “I’m sure you can work it in,” he suggested, knowing full well how dependent she was on his company’s business.
Carefully turning the black cartridge over, Maren ran her fingers along the smooth plastic casing. It was as if the fragile relationship between Festival Productions and Sterling Recording Company rested between her palms. “Is there something significant about these songs?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so.”
Kyle turned off Wilshire and headed south on the Coast Highway. Night had deepened the color of the ocean to a purple hue and only a faint ribbon of magenta colored the horizon where the sun had settled into the serene waters of the Pacific. A few dark images of distant boats sailed on the quiet sea.
They traveled the rest of the distance in silence, each consumed with private thoughts and vague speculations of what the night would bring.
Rinaldi’s was located in Manhattan Beach. The stucco two-storied building sat on the edge of the white sand and had an impressive view of the ocean. The walls were painted a soft apricot color, and a balcony off the second story was supported by columns of marble imported from a rock quarry near Naples.
A parking attendant opened the door for Maren. She got out of the car and dropped the cassette into her purse, knowing that Kyle’s dark eyes missed nothing of her actions. He was scrutinizing her; watching her every movement.
Several minutes later they were seated at a private table on the balcony. The waiter had poured them each a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon before disappearing into the restaurant for their orders. One small candle stood in the center of the table, its flame flickering dangerously in the slight breeze.
Kyle took a sip of wine and set the glass on the table. He rested his elbows near his plate and supported his chin on his clasped hands. His eyes never left Maren’s face. “First of all,” he said quietly, “everything I’m about to tell you is very confidential and I expect you to keep it that way.”
Her blue eyes didn’t waver. The candlelight was trapped in their mystic depths. “Of course.”
“I can’t afford to take the chance that the competition might find out what we’re doing because we’re working on an entirely new concept.” It sounded like a warning. His eyes had deepened to a threatening gray in the gathering dusk.
“I understand.” She took a sip from the wine to clear her throat. A warm breeze lifted her hair away from her face and the candlelight caught on the burnished strands. “What is this new concept?” She couldn’t mask the interest in her voice.
He watched her carefully. “What we want from you is a thread of continuity in all of the cuts from that one album. For example, the first song, the one you just heard in the car, is about a young man who finds out that his live-in lover has been unfaithful and that she’s leaving him for the other guy. All in all the lyrics are pretty basic, melancholy rock and roll.”
Maren nodded. Nothing he had told her was out of the ordinary. Not yet. But apparently he thought he was offering her the opportunity of a lifetime. She could read it in his intense gaze.
“Okay. In the following song, this same man is out on the streets, looking for another woman. He’s still alone, but instead of hoping his lover will see her mistake and come back to him, he’s relieved that their affair is over.”
“So much for love everlasting,” Maren noted cuttingly.
The corners of Kyle’s mouth quirked as if he might smile, but he seemed to think better of it. “The point is that I want to see some part of the original tape cut into the second and quite possibly the third. I want a visual image that carries through the entire five-song story. For example, the actress who plays the lover on the first tape should also appear in the following sequences. I don’t care if she’s just an elusive memory, or if he actually sees her again. I’ll leave that part of it up to you. But I want the visual story to flow smoothly and be not only a story in itself, but also to contain a vital part of the five-chapter song.”
“And the reason you’re doing this is so that one side of a video disk will display a twenty-five-minute movie that you can sell.”
Kyle smiled and the lines of his face seemed less harsh. “One reason,” he agreed slowly. Ryan had tried to tell Kyle about Maren McClure’s intelligence, and the man had been right. The lady was definitely not easy to pigeonhole. Kyle wondered why a man would even want to try and stereotype Maren. Her air of mystique intrigued him; her keen mind beckoned him…Maren broke into his dangero
us thoughts.
“So you’re looking for a record of something like a television miniseries.”
“You could look at it that way,” he acquiesced. The woman with the icy blue eyes and flaming hair was quick, there was no doubt about it. “The principal characters of the plot would, of course, be members of Mirage.”
Maren held back the sigh in her throat. Teaching rock stars to act was one of the largest stumbling blocks in the making of videotapes. The musicians were great when called upon to lip-synch the words to a studio recording while playing their instruments, but when called upon to act, very few could perform without a considerable amount of coaching. Fortunately J. D. Price, the lead singer for Mirage, was handsome and had some acting experience—two big plusses. It made Maren’s job considerably easier.
“So you expect me to outline all of the action on storyboards for all five cuts and have the first tape ready to be released by the end of May?” Kyle nodded as the tuxedoed waiter brought steaming platters of Italian scampi to the table. After refilling their glasses, the waiter once again left them alone on the balcony. Maren thought about the work ahead of her, should she accept Kyle’s offer. “That’s a tall order.”
“I’d pay you for your trouble.”
She considered his proposal as she ate the tangy seafood. Though the meal was excellently prepared, Maren had little appetite. She remembered the cassette in her purse. It represented a fortune, and she needed money badly. It was a tempting offer, one that she hated to turn down. Though she tried desperately to mentally allot the time needed for the project into her schedule, it was impossible. The next six weeks were already crammed with appointments and deadlines.
All the while she was lost in thought, Kyle watched her. He witnessed the silent play of emotions clouding the elegant lines of her face. Something was bothering her, he was sure of it. But what? He hadn’t even broached the subject of buying out Festival Productions, and he was sure that she was being honest when she stated that the pirating of videotapes was a problem that no longer existed.
Shadowy light from the candle played upon her hair, streaking the rich auburn color with bursts of fiery red. The silken strands framed her face in thick curls that were cut in several fashionable layers and finally rested just below her shoulders. Though she was dressed in a smartly tailored business suit of cream-colored linen and the collar of her turquoise blouse tied over her throat, Kyle knew that she was the most seductive woman in the restaurant. It wasn’t what she was wearing that added to her attraction, it was the sophisticated manner in which she carried herself.
“It’s a tempting offer, Kyle, and I really do wish that I could take you up on it, but I just don’t see where I’ll be able to find the time to do everything you want by the end of May. I’m already behind in the production of several tapes—some of which are Sterling Recording Company’s releases.”
“You’re turning me down?” His jaw tightened and he couldn’t hide the sarcastic bite to his words. After reading the financial statements of Festival Productions, he had been sure that she would gladly accept his offer…along with any others he might make concerning the business at hand.
“I’m not turning you down, Kyle, I’m being honest with you.” She smiled slightly, displaying just the hint of white teeth. “My first instinct is to say yes and agree to anything you want, but that would be unfair, not only to Sterling Recording Company, but also to some of your artists who are expecting my services.”
Kyle rubbed his thumb under his chin and his dark brows drew together in a deep scowl. “Whom?”
“There are several,” Maren admitted. “The first one who comes to mind is Joey Righteous. I’d hoped, in fact I’d almost promised him that his videotape would be completed before he started his tour of Japan. I don’t think I can just push him aside for a special project, and I’m not sure that I’d want to.”
Kyle felt the muscles in the back of his neck begin to tighten. “Have you already started working on his tape?”
Maren let out a long breath. “I’ve got the idea on paper, pending Joey’s and Sterling Recording Company’s approval.” She pushed her plate aside and ignored the rest of the meal. “We could start shooting as early as next week, except for one major hang-up.”
“And what’s that?”
She was suddenly dead serious, her blue eyes arctic. “The fact that I can’t get anyone at Sterling Recording Company to help me. Joey’s contract, along with about seven others, hasn’t been signed by anyone of authority at your firm.”
Kyle’s mouth tightened into a firm hard line. “I’m prepared to correct that.”
“Fine. I happen to have to the contracts with me.” His eyebrows arched in interest and she forced herself to continue. “But that doesn’t help my production schedule, does it?”
“You’re asking for more time?”
Maren shook her head. “I’m trying to explain that you’re asking the impossible.”
Kyle felt his teeth grinding together in frustration. So this was what Ryan Woods had attempted to warn him about: Maren McClure’s clever way of turning the game around to suit her needs. Just when he had expected her to jump at the juicy morsel of bait he had offered her, she had turned him down flat, not accepting it until some other business had been accomplished. He would have staked his life on the fact that Ms. McClure would do practically anything for the contract he was offering her. He had been wrong; seriously wrong.
“All right, Maren, I think we can stop playing games.”
She managed a thin smile over the rim of her wineglass. “Good. It’s getting a little cumbersome, isn’t it?” Had she pushed him too far? She couldn’t afford to offend the head of Sterling Records; too much was at stake. Her heart began to pound, but her gaze remained outwardly calm.
Kyle twisted the stem of his glass in his fingers. “I know that J. D. Price of Mirage thinks that you’re single-handedly responsible for the group’s success. And, for whatever it’s worth, I’m sure he’s at least partially correct. Without that first videotape of ‘Danger Signs,’ the song might never have hit the charts.”
Maren disagreed. “It was a good release.”
“It was a bomb. No one bothered to listen to the record until your video hit cable TV.”
Maren smiled at the memory of making that tape. The dusty on-location shooting of the videotape for “Danger Signs” had run over budget, had several lighting flaws in scenes that had to be reshot and everything that could have gone wrong did. But it had been the beginning of Festival Production’s fame. “We were lucky.”
“Maybe. But the point is that J. D. Price will have no one but you and your company produce this series of videotapes for Mirage’s album.”
“Is that right?” she asked with a satisfied smile.
“What do you think?”
“I think I need more time to come up with what you want.”
Kyle Sterling smiled despite the uncomfortable feeling that he was being manipulated. “And I think you drive a hard bargain.”
“Just wait,” she volunteered. “We haven’t begun to talk money.”
“I was just coming to that.”
She inclined her head as she took a swallow of wine, encouraging him to continue.
“Actually, it’s not the money that’s the problem,” he allowed. She waited, sure that he was finally coming to the point of this intimate business meeting. “You see, I think it would be better if Sterling Recording Company had more control in the making of the videos.”
Her eyes narrowed as she put her empty glass on the table.
“More control?” she repeated. “How?”
“We’re considering producing the tapes in-house.”
Maren somehow managed to smile faintly. “I don’t understand. You just offered me a very specific and expensive piece of business.”
“That’s because I was trying to make my offer attractive to you.”
“What offer?” Her pulse was racing and she had trouble ke
eping her voice even. The bottom was falling out of her world and Kyle Sterling was the man responsible.
“I want to buy out Festival….” He read the look of disbelief and dismay in her cool eyes.
“Why?” She swallowed back the apprehension rising in her throat.
“Because I want you to work for me. You would still have complete discretion concerning the making of the videos, and you would be paid very well.”
“But I would only be able to work with your artists.”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “But you would be able to work with all of them, and from what I understand Sterling Recording Company is your major source of income.”
His last statement was the final nail in the coffin. He knew how desperately she needed his business. He knew it was a matter of life and death for her small company. If she could only hang on a few more months, business was beginning to turn around and come from other sources than Sterling Records. But right now, she needed the contracts from Sterling desperately.
“I’ll be honest with you, Kyle, I’ve never really considered selling Festival Productions, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the idea. I like working for myself and being my own boss.”
“Do you like the headaches of keeping Festival afloat?”
She smiled distantly. “It’s all part of the game, I guess. A challenge. I don’t know if I’m willing to give it up.”
“You don’t have to…. We can even use the location of your offices until your lease is up and we’ve made room for you downtown.”
“What about my staff?” she asked, her blue eyes trying to read the gray depths of his.
“The staff is up to you…within a reasonable budget.”
“And you’re the one who decides what is ‘reasonable.’”
He settled back in the chair and returned her inquiring gaze. “Ultimately, yes.”
“If I decide against this…what happens to the unsigned contracts?” she asked.
“They’ll probably remain unsigned. This is important to me, and if we can’t get your cooperation, then I’ll have to find someone else. I’m giving you first opportunity.”
