by J. Sterling
“I work at a talent agency.”
There. No specifics. Los Angeles was filled with talent agents. Good luck trying to figure out which one.
“Which one?” he pressed.
Shit.
Walker flashed me a wide grin and I shook my head. “Aw, you aren’t going to tell me?” He stuck out his bottom lip and pouted toward the audience. Groans and moans filled the air.
“It’s not one you’d know,” I lied.
“Okay, Madison, who works at a talent agency I wouldn’t know, and lives in Los Angeles. This one’s for you.”
Walker reached his hand out for my face again and without shocking me this time, he cupped my cheek. Leaning in close, his war-stopping eyes bored into mine as he sang the lyrics to me.
I told you that I’d wait for you
But you didn’t listen
So I’ll fight for you
If it’s what I have to do
I’ll fight for you
Because there is no me
Without you
Girl, you know it’s true
And now Madison from Los Angeles who works at a talent agency
The rest of the world does too
I didn’t remember that last part being in the song. And before another thought could enter my already spinning mind, his lips brushed against my cheek. Heat rose from the tips of my toes and flooded me in an instant, filling my whole body. By the time Walker pulled away, my face felt flushed and I was certain I was beet red.
He pulled the microphone away and leaned over to speak quickly into my ear. “Leave your phone number with Bob. Please?” he practically begged, his voice barely above a whisper, and the rocks in my stomach dropped to the floor and shattered into rock dust. Assuming he did this with every girl he brought onstage, I glared at him, my nervousness dissipating in a rush, only to be rapidly replaced with sharp disappointment.
“Please,” he said again. “Just give it to Bob and I’ll get it after the show.”
Another quick kiss on the cheek, and Bob appeared from the back to usher me from the stage. Walker whispered something to the tall man and clapped him on the shoulder, and Bob cracked a crooked smile before looking in my direction.
I was pissed. Although I wasn’t entirely sure why, the moment had been cheapened by Walker. What had started as something amazing and unbelievable had turned into something typical and demeaning. All his escapades ran through my mind like a ticker tape parade. The real Walker Rhodes was a player of presidential caliber, and I knew it. I read about it online daily.
“Mr. Rhodes would like your phone number,” Bob informed me before we headed out of the backstage area, as if I weren’t already aware of his desires.
“I’m sure Mr. Rhodes would like a lot of things,” I bit out in response.
He tugged at the black cap on his head, moving it from side to side before huffing out a long sigh. “So, you won’t leave your number?”
“No.” I stood firm, one hand on my hip.
“Fuck.” Apparently frustrated, Bob kicked the toe of his shoe at the floor.
“He’ll get over it,” I huffed. “Can I go back to my seat now?”
“He’s going to ask why.”
I shifted my weight, annoyed at his pushiness. “Just tell him I’m not interested,” I practically shouted as my emotions surged out of control. I was beyond angry, but I didn’t really know why.
What the hell was my problem?
I stormed out of the backstage area and practically sprinted to my open seat where Keri was waiting, her mouth hanging open.
“What in the mother fucking fuck? Oh my God, that was so hot. You two were so hot up there. Thank God I have it all on video. You’re going to shit when you see this,” she squealed as she wrapped one arm around my shoulder and squeezed.
“Can’t wait,” I forced through a tight smile.
Two songs later, the show ended. But not before Walker said good night to the crowd and to me specifically, although he called me “Sparkles” again instead of Madison.
My ears were ringing as Keri and I were pushed along with the exiting crowd. I couldn’t wait to get into the car and I hated to admit it, but booking a car service was a brilliant idea, especially after an emotional night like this.
“Tell me this isn’t blissful?” Keri asked as she scooted into the backseat and opened a waiting bottle of water.
I rested my head against the leather headrest and turned toward her. “It is.”
Bad sound quality filled the back of the car as Keri scrolled through her videos and photos, stopping abruptly. Walker’s muffled voice rattled me as he repeated my name.
“Madison. I like it. You look like a Madison.”
“Turn that off, Keri. Please. I don’t want to see it.” I pressed my head into my hands and pretended to hide.
“Oh yes, you do. It’s so fucking hot. It was hotter in real life, but it’s still pretty hot on my phone.”
I spread my fingers apart, peeking at her as she shoved her cell phone screen at me.
“Just watch it.”
“I don’t want to,” I whined.
“And why not? Walker Rhodes brought you onstage. And he sang to you. He sang to you like he was in love with you. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She paused to catch a breath before continuing. “Actually, he did a lot of things tonight I’d never seen before. He was pretty awesome. Didn’t you think?” She turned toward me and waited for a response.
“He puts on a great show,” I admitted, my tone as unenthusiastic as I could muster.
“That’s it? He puts on a great show?” she mimicked before shaking her head at me. “What happened, anyway? You were having a great time at the show before you got pulled onstage. And even when you were up there, you looked like you might pass out, but you—” She snapped her fingers in the air between us. “Ugh. What’s the right word? You…”
I watched as she struggled, knowing exactly what she was trying to say. I simply wanted to avoid the conversation altogether. Because if I knew Keri, and I did, she wouldn’t let this go so easily.
“You know what I mean, so just answer me!” she howled, exasperated.
I turned my gaze toward the window and watched the city lights rush by in a blur. “He told me to leave my phone number with his security guard,” I said softly.
“He what?” Keri squealed.
My gaze remained fixed, but I raised my voice. “He told me to leave my number and it pissed me off.”
She slapped a hand on my thigh to force my attention in her direction, so I turned toward her slowly. “You didn’t leave it for him, did you?” It was a sarcastic assumption more than an actual question.
I shook my head.
“Well, why the hell not?” She threw her hands up in the air as if I were the most frustrating person on the planet.
“Because I didn’t want to, okay?” I shouted. “Because he probably asks every single girl he sings to every night to leave her number. I wasn’t trying to be his Tuesday night fuck. And I didn’t want to be one of many.”
Keri sucked in a breath. “That’s the real reason!” She pointed an accusatory finger at me.
“What is?” I snarled, the heat in my face rising along with my temper.
“You didn’t want to be one of many. I know you, Madison Myers. You’d never date a guy who made you feel like you were replaceable. I get it.”
I lowered my head. I couldn’t hide anything from her; Keri knew my dating history. It wasn’t like I lived like a nun, I had dated here and there, but my job was demanding and it came first. Besides, no one…
Stop it. Don’t go there. What’s past is past, and you can’t change it.
Defeated, I huffed out a long breath. “It was so insane up there with him at first, you know? When he touched me, sparks tore through the very fiber of my being. The fiber of my being, Keri!” I exaggerated. “It was intense. I knew it didn’t mean anything, but when he asked me for my number, it made me feel che
ap. Like a whore.”
“Why would you be the whore? He’s the whore,” she snapped.
“I just felt…” I hesitated. “Cheapened. Disrespected maybe? Which doesn’t make any sense, I know, because I don’t even know the guy, but that’s still how it felt. Like he took something magical and dipped it in shit at the end.”
Keri burst out laughing. “You’re fucking nuts. I love you.”
“I love you too. But we are kind of avoiding the real question here,” I added.
Her eyebrows pulled together. “And what question is that?”
“Why the hell did he pick me?”
I arrived at work the next morning both emotionally and physically spent. Who knew that kind of excitement could take so much out of you? Tossing my purse into my desk drawer, I turned on my computer, grabbed my notepad, and poked my head into my boss’s office.
“Morning, Jayson. Can I get you anything?” I stared at his messy dark hair. He already looked completely stressed out, and it wasn’t even nine a.m.
Leaning forward in his expensive leather chair and staring at his computer screen, he demanded, “Get me some coffee, Madison. Also, move my two o’clock appointment with Richard to first thing tomorrow morning, and make sure I have some time scheduled before the end of the day to speak with Paige.”
He pursed his lips disdainfully as he added, “I also need you to go over the finalized contracts and make sure they’re correct. I sent you an e-mail with all the details. My flight to New York on Friday needs to be pushed back, and make sure they have the right meal this time.”
He lifted his head and eyeballed me as he said that last part, insinuating that I was the one who had screwed up the meal, when in fact it was the airline. I learned long ago that arguing with Jayson never worked in my favor, so I kept my mouth shut and nodded my head along with his, silently taking the blame much in the same way I had when it first happened.
My boss expected perfection and didn’t like to hear excuses. When something went wrong, it didn’t matter how or why, but it was always my fault. I should have seen it coming, or been more proactive, or known something like this could happen. And when Jayson needed someone to yell at and blame, guess who won that contest every time? Me.
The thought of resigning had crossed my mind on more than one occasion, but the other agencies in the area were simply more of the same. This was an industry filled with money-driven egomaniacs. A business where personal insecurities hid under a big title and an even bigger attitude.
I scribbled furiously before meeting his bloodshot blue eyes. “Okay. Is that all?”
“For now.” He waved a hand at me dismissively before looking back at his computer screen, and I rushed off to fetch his coffee.
I began working for Jayson as his assistant over two years ago, since shortly after I graduated from college. He was a big-shot talent agent, and this was one of the premiere talent agencies in Los Angeles. My plan was to work my way up to junior agent status before becoming a full-fledged agent myself. This business was complete and utter chaos…but I loved everything about it. Negotiating with producers and movie studios on behalf of your client, reading movie scripts to find the right ones, coordinating schedules and high-profile events, it was what I wanted to do.
In this business, not all actors and actresses had managers, but they all had talent agents. And I knew exactly the type I wanted to be. I planned on caring about my clients. Of course I wanted to make a decent living and I knew this career could provide just that, but I also needed to make sure that the personal relationships were what mattered the most. The talent I signed needed to trust me, knowing that I would have their best interests at heart, not just their paychecks.
I’d seen all too often how money changed people. It was like once they got a taste of the good life, it suddenly consumed them, becoming their driving force. Every aspect of their life, every minute of their time, every decision they made was devoted to doing whatever garnered them the most cash, instead of what made the most sense.
My intention was to do the exact opposite. I craved the balance that few seemed to have in this industry. I intended to work with integrity and swore to myself that if all else failed, at least I’d have that. When people thought of me, I hoped they would think of someone who had their back in the best possible way. I wanted the best of both worlds—good money and even better relationships. I would be a rarity not only in this business, but in the industry as a whole. At least, that was the plan.
Filling the large mug to the top with coffee, I hurried back into Jayson’s office and placed it carefully on top of the Italian coaster he’d been given as a gift last year. Thankful I didn’t spill any, I turned back toward my desk positioned right outside Jayson’s door so I could begin working through my to-do list.
The red light flashed on my work phone, indicating I had a voice mail, and I absentmindedly pressed the button while simultaneously reaching for a pen and flicking my computer screen on. I was a master at multitasking.
I was furiously scribbling the details of the last message into my notebook when the next message started, but loud music and a mishmash of voices filled my ear. I squinted, glancing away from my notepad and toward the phone as I stared at it, willing it to play something intelligible in my ear. The voices grew in volume and I reached out to delete the message altogether when a suddenly clear voice stopped my hand in midair.
“Madison? God, I hope this is the right Madison. It’s Walker. We met tonight. If this is the right Madison, can you please give me a call? My number is 555-8453.” He paused, breathing audibly before ending the message with, “It doesn’t matter what time it is. Just call me. Please.”
The call disconnected and I pressed the number nine on the dial pad to save the message instead of erase it. Air whooshed from my lungs as I quickly slammed down the receiver and stared at the phone. How did he find me? And why the hell was he looking?
Reaching for my cell phone, I typed out a quick text to Keri. I knew she’d be hard at work already, but I needed to talk to someone about this.
WALKER RHODES JUST LEFT ME A VOICE MAIL. AT MY OFFICE. WITMFF?
WITMFF stood for “what in the mother fucking fuck?” It had become one of our “things” one night after Keri had said it, and it stuck. We’ve been WITMFF texting ever since.
After sending the message, I turned to my computer and was scanning through the 152 e-mails waiting for me when my cell phone vibrated. I glanced at it, knowing it would be Keri calling.
“Hi,” I whispered quietly into the phone. Whenever possible, I tended to avoid all personal calls while I was at the office. The truth was that I wanted to be taken seriously in this job, and so I took it seriously in return.
“Shut the fuck up!” Keri shouted. “How did he get your number? Did he leave his? Are you calling him back? What the hell, Myers?” She ranted so loudly, I had to pull the phone away from my ear.
“I have no idea how he found me,” I whispered. “And no, I have no intention of calling him back.”
“Why the hell not? Aren’t you curious in the least about why he’s stalking you?” she huffed, still yelling.
I laughed out loud and threw my hand over my mouth to quiet myself. Sucking in a quick breath, I whispered, “He’s not stalking me.”
“He kind of is. Shit, I have to go. We will be discussing this later,” she informed me as she ended our call.
Placing my cell phone back on top of my desk, I focused my attention toward my computer. Scrolling through the e-mails, I quickly became annoyed at the ridiculous amount of spam that always seemed to leak through the security filters. I hated wasting even a single minute not being productive, and stupid spam always slowed me down. Once they were all deleted, I searched for the e-mails with the contract attachments from my boss. I quickly printed them out and grabbed my yellow highlighter, looking over them for any discrepancies or inaccurate information before pushing away from my desk.
Knocking softly on Jayso
n’s door before entering, I obeyed as he held his hand in the air, indicating that I should wait while he finished typing something on his keyboard. I listened as the tapping of the keys clicked faster than any normal human being should be able to type.
“What do you need, Madison?” he asked, his attention still focused on his monitor.
“I finished looking over all the contracts and everything looks good. The addresses are correct and so are the dollar amounts.” I gripped the printed papers tightly in my hand.
“Great. Send them over to the legal department and cc me on the e-mail. Did you get ahold of Paige yet? I need to see her today. Ten minutes ago, actually.” He raised his head to stare at me and gave me an all-too-familiar look of disapproval.
Jayson constantly acted as if I were some inept idiot who couldn’t handle the simplest of tasks, when I knew damn well that I was the best assistant he’d ever had. Everyone in the office used to tell me that. Hell, they still did.
“I’ll call her right now.” I forced a small smile before turning away and rolling my eyes. It was hard for me to put up with crap like this from my boss when I knew I didn’t deserve it. But I figured I was still paying my dues, and one day I wouldn’t be working for him anymore, I’d be working with him. And then he couldn’t treat me like shit because he wouldn’t be my boss.
Sitting at my desk, I forwarded the approved e-mails to Legal before scrolling through my contacts for Paige Lockwood’s cell phone number and giving her a call. Thankfully her schedule was open for the day, and she planned on making it in before lunch. At least that would make Jayson happy and maybe he’d be in a better mood.
But as for me, I now needed to reschedule his appointments to make room for Paige’s impromptu visit. You’d never hear me complaining that life in the office was dull.
• • •
Paige arrived right on time and I was thankful for her considerate behavior. So many of the talent we represented didn’t care about anyone else’s time but their own. When they said they would be at the office before lunch, that didn’t hold any weight. Talent lived by their own rules, their own schedules, and they rarely apologized to anyone. But Paige was different. She was kinder than most and never treated me as if I were beneath her.
