by Cassie Mae
Josh nods and puts it into his iPad.
“Anything else?”
I pause at my office door, still processing everything as my gaze meets my new assistant’s. For once, I don’t wonder what my father would say, or what I think a CEO would do. I just say what I want.
“Thank you.”
***
The conference room is so crowded, there are people on the floor, laptops propped in their laps. Paige stands at the back, leaning against the wall next to the coffee machine, ready to hand a steaming cup to anyone who asks. It seems everyone is too on edge though to need more caffeine.
I take my spot at the head of the conference table, shucking my sports’ jacket down my arms. An audible intake of breath is heard at the plain white t-shirt underneath, sleeves short enough to expose half of the tattoo along my bicep. I catch Paige’s eye across the room, her brow raised and her eyes curious.
The corner of my mouth twitches upward, and the small amount of stage fright I felt creeping in disappears as quickly as it arrived.
“You all been watching the news?” I ask them, leaning against the back of the desk chair in front of me. My eyes drift over the many faces, most nodding, some a little confused.
“All right, for those of you who aren’t aware, Broken Records has been splashed all over it. This morning, there were reports of a half a dozen staff members unhappy with the new ownership.” I stand up straight, taking ownership of my mistakes. “It’s not unwarranted. Trust me, I get it now, and there will be changes. But for those of you who’d rather not sit around and wait for them to happen…” I point to the door. “Please, don’t waste any more of our time.”
It’s dead silent in the room, the meaning behind my words sinking in and the shock settling on more than a handful of expressions. A few seconds pass, and the first bold soul stands up. Nora, the overly eager intern, gathers her things in silence, her mouth a perfect thin and bitter line, and then wades through the many employees to the door. I relax my face, expecting this to happen—wanting it to happen, actually. I don’t need anyone here who isn’t happy and going to the press about it.
With the first person taking me up on the offer, a few more close their laptops and leave without a word. There are more than I anticipated, which is a bit disheartening, but nothing I can’t handle. The staff remaining seem both equally upset at the decrease in numbers and surprised that I take it the way I do. With seats emptying, I invite the people on the floor up to the table, including Paige still standing at the back. I admit, for a second, I was worried she’d be one to disappear out that door. The relief that she along with several other valued label members are still here boosts my confidence.
“Well, it looks like we’ve got some open positions,” I joke, and whether it’s the shock or my genuine lightheartedness, I get a good laugh out of everyone.
I turn to Alex, grateful he stayed planted in his seat. “We’ll need interns to replace this one.” I nod to Paige, who jolts a little with the acknowledgment. “She’ll be moving to the studio with Matt.”
“You got it,” Alex says, excitement at training new people echoing in each key he types on his laptop.
“Also… it looks like we have a few acquisitions spots open. You want one?”
He stops typing. “You offering me a promotion?”
I laugh and cross my arms. “We can talk about it later.” The room buzzes, and the air tastes different. It feels good. Like I could actually work here every day, that maybe I’ll find a spark of interest in music somewhere down the road.
“I know this is unorthodox, but I’m an unorthodox kind of guy,” I tell them all, grinning at the remaining members of the label. “We have a great group of artists here. Take care of them and take care of each other. There’s gonna be promotions, training, acquisitions in both artists and staff. This is a great company, and we’re going to keep it that way. You guys have worked hard, and I want you all in places you want to be in. If you have any concerns, come see me. I may have come off a bit… unapproachable.”
That gets another laugh, one I join them in on.
“But seriously, bother me if you have an issue.”
Josh tentatively raises his hand. “Can I get an assistant to help me assist you? I did not realize you’d be working this hard.”
Chuckles rumble through my gut, and I scratch my forehead with my middle finger as laughter fills the room again. “Oh! That reminds me…” I say, bringing my hand down. “Email me directly if you’re interested in learning another part of the company, or if you’d rather stay where you are. If I don’t get an email by the end of the day, I’ll assume you’re moving on as well. Good with everyone?”
I get a unanimous round of nods and murmurs of assent, and a rush of relief runs down my back. This could’ve gone much worse, and even with losing so many people, I feel better. More confident. Like I can actually do this shit.
My gaze lingers on Paige, whose smile makes me want to grab hold of her and press her against the nearest hard surface. It’s not quite reaching her eyes, though, and so I straighten my stance and adjourn the meeting to much excitement. My phone is already buzzing against my leg with emails.
I wait as people exit, some lingering to set up appointments, and Josh types them all into my calendar. It’s good to actually be busy instead of acting like it, to look forward to meeting with people and talk with them about moving up and on, knowing who they are instead of worrying about what they think. If my father did things this way, I guess I understand the appeal.
Paige lingers near the coffee machine, toying with the mixing straws. Matt comes over and says something to her, and she nods, a forced smile on her luscious lips.
I wait for the room to empty, hoping that she’s staying behind to talk to me one-on-one. Her teeth come out and play with her lip ring as I weave through swiveled chairs and lean my ass against the table next to her. “Of all the people in here, I’d have thought you’d be the most excited about this.”
“Didn’t expect it, for sure.” Her eyes drop over my t-shirt, and she gulps. “I am enjoying the new look.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She bites at the lip ring again, making me want to nibble on it as well.
“Matt has Ruby Foxx’s studio time this week.”
I nod slowly, holding my tongue so I can let her continue. Her head tilts in annoyance that I’m not saying anything.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? You want to know the big backstory about me and the ex.”
“No.” I’ve pieced some of it together, to be honest.
“Then what?”
“You want to work with artists, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to have to learn how to work with people who frustrate you.”
She gives me a look. “Don’t I already do that with you?”
My lips tilt upward, and I shove from the table before I lose all sense and take ahold of that sharp tongue. “I’ll see you at five.”
Her playful smile disappears, her brows pulling in as her gaze drops to the floor. I pause in my steps toward the door.
“I can’t do it,” she says. She lies. Because I know she can.
I run a hand over my chin, hoping that the action conceals the shaking habit I have whenever I’m about to reveal more of myself than I planned for.
“Did you know that you’re the most fearless woman I’ve ever met?”
Her eyes slowly drift up to meet mine, her brow furrowing as if she’s trying to see if I’m full of it. How could she not know how strong she is? She’s been the one inspiring me to get my shit together.
“You got this,” I tell her, my words falling so short of how I really feel. My fingers tap the doorframe as I exit, and it’s not until I’m in the private elevator that I realize the erratic thumping of my heart has nothing to do with nerves.
You want to work with artists, don’t you?
Ethan’s words ech
o in my head as I make the impossibly long—but not nearly long enough—walk down to the studios. I do want to work with artists. More than anything. It’s my ultimate dream. Everything I’ve been working toward. But Ruby Foxx isn’t an artist. She’s a fake and a thief who hides behind outrageous outfits, over-the-top performances, and auto-tune.
She couldn’t hit a high note to save her life, half the time she’s flat, and other times while she thinks she has a full voice, she’s really just over singing. I’m bitter, but I have every right to be.
You got this. The conviction in Ethan’s voice, the way he looked at me with those gray eyes full of misplaced confidence gives me the push I need. With a deep breath and a silent prayer for strength, I step into the studio and come face-to-face with the life I left behind.
“Paige,” Kevin says with that cocky smirk I wish I could slap off. If my job didn’t depend on me keeping it professional, I probably would. Actually, one slap wouldn’t be enough. The jerk deserves so much more than any hurt I could ever inflict.
“Kevin,” I say, moving past him as if his presence in this small space isn’t grating on my already grated skin, as if his mere presence doesn’t make me uneasy and uncomfortable.
Ruby Foxx is already set up behind the glass, singing into a microphone. To me it sounds like screeching. That poor microphone. What did it ever do to deserve that? Matt glances over at me as I take my seat beside him. The way his eyes widen slightly for a moment and how his lip curls I know what he’s thinking. If Ethan wants to save the label, Ruby Foxx is not the girl to do it.
But thanks to social media she’s huge, and the world, for whatever reason, loves her, so maybe I’m wrong. Maybe artists don’t need to have talent anymore as long as they can entertain in other ways.
Hot breath skates across my neck as Kevin leans down. His mouth inches from my ear. A few years ago, a gesture like that would turn me on. Make a huge smile spread across my face while I took in the scent of pine. Now that gesture, that scent, makes the iced coffee I finished on my way here find its way back up my throat.
“Jealous?” he asks, and I can hear the laugh in his voice. The taunting tone that’s trying to get a rise out of me.
It would be easy to run. Again. Because if I’m honest with myself, when I left New York, it wasn’t to start fresh. I was running away. The career I had slowly built, the life I loved, was all taken away when my high school sweetheart left me for my best friend.
I wanted to believe I left and never looked back, but looking back is all I’ve ever done, going over in my head every minute leading up to that moment I lost everything. Wondering what I did wrong and what I could have done differently to have stopped it. Only recently I’d been able to push the thoughts far into the back of my mind, but with both Kevin and Rebecca here, the voices keep weaseling their way to the surface, reminding me I’m not good enough.
I turn in my chair, refusing to let Kevin have any control over me. Not anymore. I’ve come too far to deal with his crap. Besides, he’s not the same guy I once loved. The boy I met in high school who gave me a bouquet of music paper on our first date. The guy who drove three hours to pick me up in Connecticut when my car broke down. Who would hold me at night when I had a bad day and assure me tomorrow was another day. The man who I thought had my best interest in mind and only wanted to see me succeed.
I’m not even sure that man ever existed other than in my mind. I was so in love with him that I didn’t see his flaws. Nobody is perfect, and I used that as the basis for all my arguments when defending him against Mom and Mia. I was blinded to his faults, and now that’s all I can see. Rebecca can have him because I’ve come too far to ever want someone like him again. It took me a long time to realize they’re perfect for each other. One more self-absorbed than the next.
“Jealous?” I laugh, and Matt looks to me confused. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while.” I pat Kevin on the chest, when I really want to launch him across the room, and turn back in my chair.
“Look at her,” Kevin says, bringing his mouth back to my ear. Ruby Foxx is so into the song she’s ruining she doesn’t see beyond the glass. Doesn’t see that her boyfriend is whispering into my ear just like he used to so long ago. “She’s everything you could never be.”
I swallow the bile trying to force its way to the surface and do my best to keep my shoulders straight and void of the tension coursing through me. “No. She’s everything I never want to be. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Matt shoots me a curious glance, but I shake my head to assure him I’m good. Ruby continues to butcher the song, and I think of all the demos I listened to in Ethan’s office last night. Think of how unfair it is that all that talent is still undiscovered while people like Ruby Foxx are living their dreams.
Ruby finally finishes, and Kevin leans into the microphone. I keep my head down so she doesn’t see me. It’s stupid, and I shouldn’t care, but Kevin is one thing. Ruby on the other hand, I don’t think I’ll ever have the courage to face her.
“Why don’t we do Somethin’ About Life next,” Kevin says, and his words are like a knife to the heart. My eyes dart to the smug look on his face, and he smiles. The bastard smiles. He smiles because he knows it’s a low blow.
This song has so much potential, and I would do anything for anyone else to sing it, just not her. Anybody but her.
“She can’t hit the high note,” I say matter-of-factly.
Matt shoots me another curious glance, but I keep my eyes focused on my chipped purple nails.
“Somethin’ About Life,” Kevin says again.
I finally look up, whether it’s courage or stupidity, I’ll never know, but I do. Her eyes catch mine, and for a minute there’s no recognition, and I think I’ll be able to get through this. But then her fake blue—thanks to contacts—eyes widen, and her glossy lips part in shock. Then I see it. That look in her eyes that I’ve seen many times before. She should be scared to be singing one of my songs knowing that I can pull the plug on her at any minute, but she knows I won’t say anything. She knows the real me, and she knows how weak I really am. A combination of amusement and disgust flashes across her face.
“My pleasure,” she says into the microphone and purses her lips before glaring in my direction as if she’s daring me to say something.
I don’t.
The music starts, and I close my eyes, listening to the melody. The piano so pianissimo in the beginning, a bare whisper. My fingers twitch for the ivory keys, desperate to lead the gradually increasing tempo to its crescendo, missing the thrill of the journey from beginning to end, creating something so beautiful you can feel the notes wrap around your heart and beat life into your blood.
It’s a feeling I gave up a long time ago but now find with the demos I listen to. I open my eyes, knowing the exact moment the words should start. Ruby manages to get through the first few lyrics, then stumbles over the chorus. Matt stops her and makes her start again.
She is one of the artists who should be saving this label, saving Ethan from failure and losing everything his father created, and I should be championing her success, but I can’t help the jolts of happiness every time she screws up. The slight tug at the corner of my lip as she misses the high note.
“Again!” she demands when she misses it for the tenth time. Anger and frustration mar her otherwise perfect face.
“Okay, let’s take it from the top,” Matt says, and I lean back in my chair, finding the strength I didn’t think I had in me. She might have the guy and the contract, but she’s not better than me, especially not when it comes to music. She’s a talentless hack, and I find satisfaction in the realization.
I cross my arms over my chest and stare directly at her. Her nose crinkles at the bridge like she smelled something bad. She shoots for the high note again and falls flat. With a stomp of her foot she throws the headphones on the floor as a slew of expletives fly from her mouth.
A laugh slips from m
y lips, and her evil glare turns to the glass separating us. “You!” she screams as she marches toward the window. “You need to leave.”
I point to myself and feign shock. “Me”
“Yes, you. You’re watching me, and it’s making me very uncomfortable. Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s not polite to stare?”
My teeth grind together, and I focus my anger on controlling myself from flinging the door open and yanking on the blonde wig she’s wearing. She could have said anything. But she took the lowest blow, using my mother, the woman who took her in time and time again when her own couldn’t be bothered with her.
So many times she showed up on my doorstep crying because of something her mother said or did. Every single time my mom would wrap her in a hug and make her hot chocolate. Mom would sit and listen to what happen, being a soundboard for her to get it all out. She never once turned her away. She even had a toothbrush at my house and a dresser drawer to keep her things in. My mother taught her more than her own mother ever did. My mom taught her compassion and love. She helped her with homework and helped her study when she was failing algebra.
I wish I could go back in time and slam the door in her face, refusing to let my mother take care of her. The person she is today doesn’t deserve that kind of empathy.
But I know the girl beneath the wig. She’s trying to get to me. Trying to put the blame elsewhere because her self-importance won’t allow her to admit any wrongdoing on her part. I know her game. It took a long time to realize we weren’t playing for the same team, but now I’m fully aware, and I refuse to let her win.
I lean down to the microphone and smile. My eyes holding hers with the same amount of intensity. “I’ll leave, but we both know it’s not going to change a thing.”
She erupts into another string of curses, but I let go of the button and cut her off.
“Sorry, Matt. Let me know if you need anything.”
The corners of his mouth turn down. “I’ll have to let Mr. Davis know.”
