One More Bad Boy

by Nora Flite

  I cracked a fond smile. “Dad said I was born singing and never stopped.”

  “Where are they now?”

  And like that, the familiar stone rolled onto my heart. I clenched up in my chair. “Dead.”

  “Oh, god. Both of them?”

  “Car accident,” I whispered.

  “I’m terribly sorry.”

  Trying to make myself sound chipper, I looked at her and shrugged. “Life happens.”

  “Still, that’s rough for anyone. Can I ask how old you were?”

  I wished she wouldn’t. “Fifteen.”

  “Shit,” she mumbled. “You were so young.” Her face scrunched as a thought hit her. “Did you move in with other family members?”

  “My aunt.” I shuddered at that sour memory.

  “Wow, you just went crazy pale,” she noted.

  I glanced at my reflection in the window. She’s right, I’ve gone green. Talking about my mother’s older sister was hard. It forced me to relive a part of my life I was eager to shove into a dark well. I had to change the subject fast. “What about your parents?”

  “Mine? Alive on the outside, the jury is out on the rest.” Violet chuckled to take the sting out of her insult. “They’re not the kindest people. I don’t see them much.”

  “They live far away?”

  “Oh, no. They’re down in Long Beach.” She twirled her straw before looking me in the eye. “Maybe I was being too coy before. My parents are assholes, we don’t get along.”

  “Sorry,” I said on impulse.

  “Don’t be. They drove me away, and I used that ‘assistance’ to get into an amazing career.”

  “Huh. You like working for Bach?”

  It was her turn to look uncomfortable. “I liked working for Laurence. I tolerate Bach, but don’t tell him that. Speaking of which, he seems to have taken a liking to you.”

  I knew I was blushing. I couldn’t control it. “You don’t say?”

  “I noticed it the day he forced you to audition on the spot. I don’t blame him for being interested. When you sang Whispers... it was pretty amazing. You're awfully talented for someone who's never performed professionally. I noticed you knew your way around a sound booth.”

  Sweat began to blossom on my chest. “Well, I’m glad you liked my singing. That’s all I care about.”

  “I appreciate that. Lots of people get distracted from what matters once they get a taste of fame.” Violet checked her phone diligently. “My schedule is going to be crazy packed over the next week. The number of contacts I received after the show last night is out of this world. At this rate we'll have signed 15 new artists before the year ends.”

  I laughed but my heart wasn't in it. “Hopefully none of them will replace me.”

  She startled. “What? Amina, no. This isn't about replacing you. It's about business.”

  “I guess I'm just worried that I came out here for a job that isn't what I thought it would be.”

  Violet hunched towards me. “Have you felt like I've misled you?”

  Running my hands down my face, I let out an exaggerated groan. “I don't know. It's just... it was awesome to sing at the gala. Seriously. I never thought I’d have the guts to do something as bold as that. But what I want to do is record music. That's what I've always wanted—for the world to hear my songs, and I haven't even begun recording a single lyric.”

  Her fingers linked together on the table. “You're right. It's not fair that you haven't gotten to do that. Honestly, I didn't think you'd be ready so quick. I figured you'd want time to settle in, maybe run your songs by one of our staff. But if you want to jump in the booth and hit the ground running, I'll pencil in a time for you.”

  I perked up. “You will?”

  “If anyone understands wanting to keep their eye on the prize, it's me.” She chuckled in the back of her throat. “Try to rub off some of that onto Bach.” She went stiff, as if she realized how dirty that sounded. She opened her mouth to speak, then waited a beat. “Actually, I want to talk about something with you.”

  My heart was pulled into a drain. “Okay.”

  “I know about what happened last night between you and him.”

  Shit. I’d started to hope she had no clue about Bach and me. I hung my head, unable to look her in the eye. “He told you?”

  “Not quite. I swung by this morning, before either of you were awake. When I checked your room and you weren't in there I got worried, so I went to Bach's room to ask if he’d seen you. Then I saw... I guess you know what I saw.”

  Groaning, I covered my face in my hands.

  “I already warned Bach about this. You two shouldn't be hooking up. It's a distraction, and it paints a bad picture of our company.”

  I threw up my hands defensively. “You don't have to tell me twice. I let him know this morning that I wanted our relationship to be professional.”

  Her eyebrows scrunched together, then smoothed out in relief. “Did he seem like he would listen?”

  I was saved from having to tell her No, he didn’t, because the waiter interrupted us. He set two wooden bowls on the table. “Enjoy!” he chirped.

  Snatching my spoon, I shoveled a mouthful of banana slices and frozen acai. “This is delicious,” I mumbled. I was eating so fast I barely tasted it. All I gained was an ice cream headache.

  Violet took a small bite while watching me closely. I knew she wanted an answer about what Bach had said. I was worried if I told her the truth, that Bach was planning to keep pursuing me, she’d get involved. Then things would become a huge deal... and then too much time would be wasted on drama instead of my music.

  More than anything, I didn’t want her to think she needed to get involved because I couldn’t handle this myself. Things were under control. I was in control.

  It didn't matter if Bach was determined to get me back into his bed.

  I would never sleep with that man again.

  - Chapter Eighteen -

  Bach

  The line of women was in the double-digits. There were enough people here that, if we only signed half of them, they'd replace every empty slot on our roster. Beats and Blast was finally turning around.

  And it's all thanks to Amina. My beautiful wishing star... who had managed to avoid me for the last three days. Violet had helped, of course. She'd made sure I had tons of work keeping me late in the office. And in the morning, she'd pound on my door until I stumbled outside and into my car. Once, I'd glimpsed Amina as she sipped coffee in one of the gazebos on my property.

  The early sun turned the strands of her black hair into spun gold. Her eyes had met mine over her cup, then darted away. My plan to woo her back to me wasn't going well. Maybe after I signed a few new musicians Violet would cut me some slack. Then I could find an excuse to be alone with Amina.

  “Morning!” a voice said as I entered the audition room. There was a young man sitting with his knees spread wide in a chair at the table. He had sunglasses on and, despite that we were indoors, he didn't remove them. His blue and orange hair was gelled into tons of small spikes.

  It took me a minute to recognize him. Roshio Upland was huge on social media. He was a decent singer, but mostly, he'd managed to become famous by getting in the faces of every famous person he could corner on the street. People loved how rude he was. He'd even wriggled his way into hosting a number of reality shows.

  “Roshio? Why are you here?”

  “I invited him,” Violet said, coming in behind me. She shut the door, then settled into a chair. “Roshio's what we call an ‘influencer’.”

  “Please,” he chuckled, “I hate that term.”

  Violet gave him a polite smile. “It means he has his finger on the pulse of what's popular. He knows how to recognize an ‘it girl’, and he was kind enough to agree to work as a consultant today.”

  “I don't need help recognizing talent,” I said.

  Roshio slid his sunglasses up onto his forehead. His eyes were perceptive, fierce black
balls. “Hey bro, from what I've heard, you need all the help you can get to keep this place afloat. But if you really want me to leave...”

  He was halfway out of his chair before Violet motioned at him to sit back down. “Please, Roshio, ignore Bach. He's not a morning person.”

  “Yeah,” I said, dropping heavily into the seat between the both of them. “Every tiny little pain in my ass is exasperated when it's so early.” I shifted so I could focus on Violet. “Why are there only women outside?”

  She pursed her lips. “That's a complaint I never expected from you. We had enough people wanting to apply that I split the groups. Guys will audition tomorrow.”

  Another early morning? This was what I hated about being a responsible adult.

  The door cracked open. Farrah leaned inside, taking us all in. “The girls are ready, Mr. Devine.”

  “Time for the cattle call,” Roshio said with a sneer.

  “Don't call it that,” Violet snapped.

  The younger man cast me a private look that said You agree with me, right? But I didn't reward him with a response. I just pushed my fingertips together over my lap and jerked my chin at Farrah where she was waiting by the door. “Let the first one in.”

  Violet passed a booklet to me, then over to Roshio. She flipped through her own as she talked. “This will be Vienna Short. She's from Orange County, did backup vocals for the Starships' Burst Tour.”

  “The Starships?” Roshio mused. “They're pretty well known.”

  The girl swayed into the room on six-inch red heels. Her twin braids swung on her shoulders as she flashed me a wink. “Oh my gosh, can I just say I’m so excited to be here?”

  I bet she wouldn’t have said that a few days ago. Her whole demeanor came off plastic. I disliked her instantly. “Vienna?” I asked.

  “That’s me!” she giggled.

  I flipped through her file. “Go ahead and sing something for us.”

  “My pleasure, doll.” Her voice dripped with too-sweet honey. Yet, when she cleared her throat and began her song, it was like her lyrics were plain, dry white bread. Boring and flavorless. Before she’d finished the tune, I held up my hand. She startled, mouth popping open as she stared at me incredulously.

  “That’s enough.”

  “Oh, then you...” She was waiting for me to compliment her. Violet stared at me so intently I felt her eyeballs burning a hole in my skull.

  “We’re done,” I said. I flipped to a new page. “Farrah,” I called loudly. “Next, please.”

  Vienna was stunned. The color in her cheeks increased, like she was about to curse at me. Amazingly, she managed a tiny nod, a brief finger-wave, then she strutted past my secretary and out the door.

  I hoped the next singer would be better.

  She wasn’t.

  Girl after girl entered, all of them some caricature that screamed my agent is trying to brand me. Wild hair colors, random accessories, false piercings; it was painfully inauthentic. But I could have tolerated that. Those are things that can be changed. But their voices... their talent... that was where they missed the mark. That was unfixable.

  “Bach, you're going too far,” Violet growled at me. I’d just waved away another countless failure. I’d already forgotten her name.

  “Stop pressuring me. Wait until we hear them all.”

  “That was all of them, Bach. You just said no to the last girl.”

  Sobering ice jolted up my spine. I said no to all of them?

  “What's your problem, man?” Roshio asked. “You seriously don't want to sign anyone? And I thought I'd be the picky one in this room.”

  “Can you give us a moment?” Violet asked him. Roshio spun his chair in a circle, then walked out the door without looking back. I was jealous that he could exit so smoothly. There was no pressure on him to salvage an empire. “Bach. What's going on?”

  Shaking my head, I said, “They weren’t good enough. Did you vet them, all of them?”

  Her forehead split into rows of tight, angry lines. “I spent the last three days listening to track after track from these girls. I was picky when I chose this lineup. I know these girls have talent and some, if not all of them, would be a perfect fit for this company!”

  “Try again,” I snapped.

  “I'm sorry, try again?”

  “You heard me.” Fuck, my head was splitting; I gripped my temples and frowned. “Find new people to audition. Maybe the guys will be better, I don't know, but this isn't working.”

  “We agree on something, at least.” Gathering up the booklets, she avoided looking me in the eye. “You're the boss. I'll go through the submissions again. Maybe some of the girls I didn't pick for this audition are worth giving a second look.”

  “That sounds fine.” It didn't, and the air crackled between us from our shared black mood. We’d been starving to get musicians interested in the company for months. Now we had them! Auditions was supposed to be the easy part!

  Something had changed.

  Stepping into the hallway, I watched as the women grumbled quietly, or openly complained, about their disappointing experience. Someone I didn’t expect to see was leaning against the wall, trying to stay out of the way of the crowd.

  Amina.

  That girl had spoiled me, then tainted me, with her existence.

  Clarity hit me like a truck. I clutched my chest, gripping the door's frame to remain on my feet. Of course, that’s what’s wrong!

  Because of her, I'd been unable to see anything but flaws in those other girls. I'd have ignored those tiny things in the past. Now, it was impossible.

  I knew what was wrong with the auditions.

  What was wrong with everyone else.

  None of them were her.

  - Chapter Nineteen -

  Amina

  All these singers were painfully stunning. I couldn't see inside the audition room, but I wondered if Bach was ogling them. My exes would have. Every single one of those jerks would have openly drooled over these girls, then harassed me if I dared to show a hint of jealousy.

  It's your own fault for coming here, I reminded myself. No one had asked me to show up. Violet and Bach had left without me this morning. I'd wandered the huge house until the walls began to blur, then, once I'd been sure I'd go crazy if I stayed put, I'd taken the Tesla for a drive.

  Coming to Beats and Blast was a strange sort of auto-pilot. I needed to talk to Violet about when she was going to set up time for me to record my own music. She'd assured me she would, but her workload was so gigantic, she’d hardly spoke to me in person since our lunch days ago.

  She's in that room. When she exits, I'll have her cornered. With my back to the wall, I waited as the line of girls dwindled. They'd gather in the hallway once the audition was over, some of them chatting on their phones, others pacing nervously. I guessed no one had told them whether they were going to be signed or not yet.

  Would Bach bring on only a handful? Or would he take every single one?

  The door opened and a man I didn't recognize walked out. He had on sunglasses, and his hair looked like a brightly colored kid's ice cream cone. He smiled at the women, said some things, then began taking selfies with them.

  Guess he's someone famous.

  He did look a little familiar. Had I seen him on TV? He laughed loudly at something a girl had said, then waved and strut down the hall. As he passed me, our shoulders bumped. “Whoa, sorry!” he laughed, giving me an apologetic smile.

  “It’s fine,” I said, waving my hands frantically. “I was in the way. My fault.”

  He started to turn away, then stopped as he studied me closer. “Don’t I know you?”

  I laughed so hard that I snorted. “Me? No, there’s no way.”

  “You sure? I’m Roshio.” He extended a hand; I shook it, noticing how skinny his fingers were. It was like shaking hands with a bunch of dried pasta.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Amina.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Oh ho! Beats and
Blast’s newest star! I’ve definitely seen you before.”

  Flushing, I gave a tight shrug. “You probably remember me from the All That Glitters Gala.”

  He didn’t seem entirely convinced. Just then, a voice called out his name further down the hall. We both looked over. One of the women who’d been in line—a tall, wispy girl with long blonde hair—was waving. “Gotta go,” Roshio said. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Amina.” He cast me one last squinty-smile, then hurried off to chase the girl.

  Frowning to myself, I wondered why the encounter had made my hair stand on end. Guys like him trick off my bullshit meter, I told myself.

  The door opened again; Violet poked her head out, flashing an apologetic smile. “We're going to need more time to think over our choices. We'll speak with your agents soon, thank you for coming.”

  There was a chorus of frustrated mumbles. As the crowd thinned, Violet spotted me. “Amina, why are you here?” she asked as she approached.

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “You could have called, you know that.”

  Sure, but you can't avoid me in person, I thought. “Violet, when am I going to get some time in the booth?”

  Her mouth flattened into a tired line. “I know I said I'd get you in there soon, but look, there's a lot happening. I need that space so I can get some of our potential new talent in to record some tracks for Bach.”

  “For Bach?”

  “It's the only way to change his mind about his bad decisions,” she grumbled. “Sorry, I know I promised one thing and I'm saying another, but you really will get into the booth soon. Okay?”

  My shoulders slumped. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Great!” She slipped on a faux, cheerful mask, her heels clicking away from me. “I have to make some calls. We'll get lunch again soon. Bye, Amina!”

  I watched her go, with frustration building at the back of my skull. It made my eyeballs ache. The busy hallway had emptied out; I was alone, nothing to keep me company but the framed pictures on the walls. I stared at a black and white photo of a young woman holding up a shiny record-shaped award. A thirty-something Laurence grinned with pride. At his side stood a younger, friendlier looking Sherman.