by Claire Adams
Why the hell we ever stopped, I wasn’t sure. I knew part of it was because I was focused on starting the record company, but maybe I should have kept the band up, too. I wondered where we would be now if I’d done so. Still, it wasn't good to dwell on things that would have been or could have been. After all, the past was the past, and it's not as if we can go back and change things.
A buzz came from the intercom on my desk, followed by my secretary’s voice. “Mr. Young? You available?”
“Yes, Aubrey. What’s up?”
“You're due at North Star Agency in an hour. Just giving you a reminder. Also, you never put in an order for lunch. Did you want me to run out and grab you something?”
Just then my stomach grumbled, as if on cue. “No, you know what? I need to get out of the office, anyway. I’ll just head out now and grab something on the way,” I told her. “Thanks, though.”
“Sounds good, boss. Good luck finding someone at the agency!” she said in her chipper voice. I smiled and thanked her again, grabbing my wallet off my desk. North Star wasn’t too far, so I figured I’d walk. Getting a bit of light exercise would be good for clearing my head, and there was a good sandwich shop on the way I could stop at.
Less than twenty minutes later, I was at the sandwich shop. I went inside and headed straight for the counter to order a hoagie. Just as I handed the cashier a twenty, someone let out a squeal behind me. I spun around to see a group of twenty-somethings staring at me, wide-eyed.
“Oh em gee! It’s really you!” One charged toward me, phone already up for a picture. “Can I please get a picture with you? I can’t believe you guys are finally getting back together!” She let out another squeal. I winced, but smiled and nodded, putting an arm out to let her come over to me.
Apparently, Aubrey had gotten our press release out last week. For the past few years, I had been able to come into this sandwich shop with no problem, but putting Bleeding Heart back out in the public light had probably brought had a hand in bringing on situations like this.
The girl came up beside me, hugging me as one of her giggling friends took her phone. I politely hugged the girl back and posed with her as the other girl took the picture. They switched places, and her friend hugged me just as tightly. At one moment, I was pretty sure she sniffed my t-shirt, and it was all I could do not to laugh, although over the years I'd gotten used to this kind of attention from fans and all the weirdness that sometimes came with it. And believe me, there was a lot of weirdness at times. I posed for another photo with her before a few more girls crowded around wanting their pics taken with me.
This went on for a good twenty minutes, and a couple even lingered to watch me eat my sandwich with enthralled attention from a nearby table, giggling the whole time. Instead of annoying me, it made me smile and reminded me just how fun that aspect of touring had been. Meeting the fans had always been great, even if it did get a bit exhausting and overwhelming at times.
I was amazed we still had the number of fans we had, but we had done pretty well for ourselves back in the day. I guess it really shouldn’t have been too much of a shock that some were still following us. A number of our shows for the tour were already sold out, after all.
It was nice having fans. That façade, that false sense of being desired, sometimes helped dull the sting of loneliness that came with the territory. Hell, I’d take what I could get.
While I had everything else, I did feel quite alone some of the time. Even if I didn’t have a problem getting laid, it wasn’t the same as having someone there that you cared about on a consistent basis. A real relationship. I’d never been able to find that. Maybe between the band and the record company, I’d just kept myself too busy to find anyone. Maybe I was a little picky or lacked the trust that they liked me for me instead of because I was Owen Young, rock star extraordinaire.
I waved to the girls as I left, causing another outbreak of giggles. I smiled and winked at them as I walked out the door and headed for the agency, still feeling that pleasant buzz of rock stardom tingling across my skin.
It was just before three when I arrived, and Mike was there waiting for me.
“Long time no see, Mr. Rock Star! How you doing, Owen?” He patted me on the back and smiled at me with a toothy grin.
“Good, good. You know how it is, man. With this record company, and now getting the band back together for the tour, things are crazy. I feel like I'm going nuts sometimes; there's just so much to do and almost no time to do it. Anyway, though, how are things here?”
“Oh, same as you I guess. Busy, busy,” he countered with a smile. “But, I was able to make time to schedule the three applicants you requested interviews with. They are already here and waiting. You can use my office. Let me know when to send the first one in.”
“You can go ahead and send her this way,” I told him, settling into his chair. “Thanks a bunch, man. I really do appreciate the help.”
“No worries. Glad to help. It's always a pleasure working with you, Owen—you represent the best of the music business, you really do. I wish a lot more of my clients were more like you; it'd certainly make my life a lot easier. Anyway, for these candidates, each of their resumes are right on my desk for you to go over with them. I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared out of the office, and a few minutes later, a mousy-looking girl walked in. I stood to greet her, stretching my hand out toward her.
“Owen Young, and you must be Felicia,” I said.
“Yes, hi,” she giggled. Oh God, I thought. She had to be a fan. Fans were great when you were on tour, but definitely not so much when part of the operations aspect of the tour. Nonetheless, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and sat down to get on with the interview. It was only fair to give her a chance, after all.
“So, you have experience in managing music tours?” I asked her.
More giggles. “Yes, mostly with up-and-coming, unsigned, indie rock bands, kind of like how you guys started out.”
“Oh, that’s cool. We need someone well versed on locations and venues for bigger shows, though. Do you feel confident doing that?”
More giggles. Her giggles were like tiny pinpricks in my head and, to be honest, I was struggling to deal with it. Especially since she was just staring at me and not answering my questions.
“Felicia?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry, I just can’t believe I’m actually sitting here talking to you.” She blushed...and giggled once more. Why me, I thought. I hoped the rest of the interviews weren’t going to be like this. Otherwise, I’d be ready to toss myself off the top of the building by the time I was done.
“Could you please answer my question?” I asked, no longer hiding my annoyance. This seemed to strike her as mean because her eyes misted up a little.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m blowing this, aren’t I?” she sniffled, which only led me to believe that she might be one of those emotional roller coasters, as well. Another red flag for a bunch of guys on tour.
“Do you not have experience booking larger scale tours?”
“No, just with smaller venues and smaller indie bands,” she finally answered. I let out a sigh. This girl was, unfortunately, not at all what I was looking for.
“Thank you, Felicia. I do appreciate your time, but I think that will be all.” I didn’t look her in the eyes, but I could already tell that she was, in fact, crying in earnest now. I sent Mike a text to summon him back over to the office. Mike came in and looked from me to Felicia, his forehead wrinkled as he made his way to the desk where I sat.
“Mike, I need someone that fits the profile I gave you. Please don’t waste my time,” I said quietly. Not quietly enough, though, because the girl got up from the chair and rushed out in a flurry of tears.
I honestly felt bad, but there wasn’t much I could do. We were a multi-platinum selling band with millions of fans all over the country, not a bunch of amateurs playing the dive bar circuit for beer money on weekends.
Maybe once, but not anymore. We had to have someone who had enough experience to be professional around bands of our caliber; there was simply no getting around that, as hurtful as it may be to any of the hopefuls.
Mike looked back at me suspiciously, then nodded. “I promise the next two are much more qualified. I’ll be back with the next girl in a few minutes,” he said, then left me there alone to wait.
Chapter Eight
Nalia
The first girl that had gone in for her interview came out crying, and I bit my lip, suddenly a little more nervous than I had been. I felt a wave of uncomfortable heat wash over me, and for a few moments, a powerful feeling of nausea bubbled in my stomach. Was this guy a nightmare to deal with or something?
My stomach did a nervous flip flop as I watched the crying girl push the doors to the main office open and leave, sniffling and wiping at her face. He must have been pretty damn intimidating to have elicited that kind of response from her.
“Nalia Dean?” someone called my name, and my stomach did another flip flop.
“That’s me.” I stood, smoothing out my skirt. I paused to breathe in deeply. I held the breath in my lungs and closed my eyes for a few moments to calm myself. I hadn’t been sure how to dress for this interview, so I had opted for a more business-like attire. I had settled on a black two-piece skirt and fitted business jacket with a ruffled, V-neck, white blouse and a pair of black heels.
Mike, the man who had called me to schedule the interview today, held the door open for me to enter the hallway. I followed him in, not saying a word, just focusing on the walls of the long hall decorated with all the different awards and pictures of celebrities that they’d apparently worked with in the past. I recognized almost every single one of the artists, and to say I was intimidated was an understatement.
At the end of the hall we reached a corner office. A rather large corner office. A handsome man with short, jet-black hair he had spiked up in the front and mesmerizing, deep-blue eyes watched me come in. He was perched against the edge of the desk with his arms crossed—arms that were fit, tanned, and toned and had just enough muscle to fill out the t-shirt he was wearing.
“Nalia, this is Owen Young of Young Records and Bleeding Heart. Owen, this is Nalia Dean,” Mike announced as he introduced us.
I froze for a moment. This was the guy Grace had been talking about? This was Owen Young?
I recovered quickly, doing my best to stifle my surprise and shock, and reached my hand out while smiling warmly. Owen took it, shaking it politely. The nerves I had convinced myself I wasn’t going to have showed up in a big way the moment he did. I managed to keep them under control though and made sure that I came across as being calm, relaxed, and completely unintimidated by the rock star in front of me.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nalia. Please, have a seat.” He smiled at me, then nodded for Mike to leave us. As Mike left, Owen made his way back around the desk to take a seat in the chair.
Funny, this guy didn’t look like the type that would have chased the last girl out of there crying. Still, I had seen what I had seen, so I kept my guard up. Looks could be deceiving, after all. Besides, I wasn't only nervous because of the crying girl. It didn’t help that I’d bluffed a good bit on my resume. God help me if he called me on any of it. Then perhaps it would be my turn to rush out of the office in tears.
Of course, in addition to all of this, there was also the fact that I was a bit put off a little by his unnerving good looks. He had a nice, strong, chiseled jaw and those eyes…my God, those eyes. I had no doubt those eyes could get most any woman to do what he wanted her to do.
“So, I see here you’ve been a personal assistant for quite some time. There's a good amount of experience listed here, I must say. The only thing that gives me a little pause is that your resume shows it was mostly in a corporate setting with only a select amount of touring experience. I’m sure you can understand why this would cause me some concern. Most of your experience isn't quite in my field, really. What is it that’s made you want to make the switch from the corporate world to mine?”
Okay, that starting question wasn’t too difficult to handle.
“Well, to be blunt, I’m an aspiring musician myself, so it just makes more sense to work within the music industry. I never felt like I was the right fit in the corporate world. Music is, without a doubt, the number one interest in my life. It's a passion that's driven me for a long time. Working in the corporate world… Well, yes, I was really good at it, but it didn't move my soul. Not like being in the music business would.”
He nodded, studying me and mulling over what I’d said. Hopefully, it sufficed as a good answer, even if the bit about me having touring experience wasn’t at all true.
“And with touring, it says you’ve organized three tours before? I'll be honest, that's not a lot considering what this job will demand, but I will say that it’s a decent amount for a short period of time. How did you feel with organizing the first one?”
“I was a bit nervous and unsure of myself, as it was totally different than what I was used to doing, but I knew my capabilities and knew I could learn what I needed to know as I got through it. It was a good challenge for my skills, and I feel like I made the switch really well. Everything went very smoothly,” I responded.
Complete, big fat lie. Still, I’d helped organize big corporate events all the time, and figured that it couldn’t be that much different than scheduling tour stops and their venues. His smile widened at me, and a small flutter shook in my stomach. Damn, the man was good looking. Especially when he smiled. He was much more handsome than I thought he would be. No wonder Grace liked his band.
“How comfortable would you be with organizing marketing and promotions for the tour? Things like radio interviews, interviews with rock bloggers, YouTube vloggers, that type of thing,” Owen asked.
Well, if what Grace had said was true, these guys had been kind of a big deal a few years ago. I doubted it would be that hard getting them on the radio, the web, or YouTube during their reunion tour. I was sure, in fact, that it was something that could possibly be done with relative ease, especially with a name as well-known as theirs. Most bloggers or radio hosts would jump at the opportunity.
“I definitely think I can handle that, no problem,” I told him, trying my best to look confident as I sat up a little taller. So far, it seemed the interview was at least going better than his first one—though that probably wasn’t saying too much considering how it ended in water works.
“Well, I'll say this, it’s going to be a lot of work, a lot more than you've done in these previous tours listed on your resume. In addition to that, you’ll be on the road with us during all of this, too, so you need to keep that in mind because that brings with it a whole different set of pressures and troubles to deal with. We have very comfortable accommodations on the bus, but it is still being on the road for nearly three months straight with a bunch of sweaty, crazy guys. And while that might sound like fun initially, I can promise you that it'll be pretty stressful and nerve-wracking, as well. Especially seeing as we're going to have a very tight schedule to stick to, so you need to take all of that into consideration.
“The pay is ten thousand a month, so it'll be thirty thousand for the first leg of the tour. Depending on how the first leg goes, we want to have a second leg of smaller venues later in the year. Also, bear in mind that this is a position with other potential. If you do a good job with it, I am always looking for reliable and dedicated people to work with me at my record company. So, if you impress me on this tour, there may well be a permanent position in line for you—a permanent position with very generous pay and plenty of perks and benefits.
“Do you think you could deal with three months on the road while organizing all of that and keeping the band in check and on schedule?”
I didn’t say anything for the moment. Ten thousand a month was still running through my head. Not to mention the possibility of working perman
ently at the record company. This would be a dream come true—if I got it, of course.
“Um…yeah, I think that seems fair. If you guys need someone to keep you organized, I’m definitely your woman,” I spouted, surprised at my confidence. I almost had myself fooled that I knew what the hell I was doing trying to organize a three-month tour. Still, if he gave me this job, I’d bust my ass making sure it got done right.
Owen’s face lit up as he studied me. “Well, that’s great to hear. I definitely need to know we’ll be in good hands, whoever we hire. The other guys can get a little crazy, and with the record company to take care of, I simply can’t handle taking care of the tour and them on top of my already insane workload. I mean, I know how to work hard, but doing all of that combined is beyond the capabilities of any human being who wants to maintain their sanity.”
So, he wasn’t a party boy like the rest of them. Interesting. There was definitely something about him, and that little admission that had me even more intrigued as to who Owen Young really was outside of the persona of a successful record company owner and rock star. He stood upright, and I couldn’t help but admire his body as he walked around the desk and held his hand out for me.
“Nalia, it really was a pleasure speaking with you,” he said as he took my hand and helped me out of my seat.
“Likewise,” I responded.
“We’ll definitely be in touch.”
I shook his hand and noticed his gaze roam over my outfit all the way down to my heels. I was glad I went with this particular ensemble. It was my power suit. It made me feel more confident, it looked great for interviews, and it happened to hug the right curves without doing it in too obvious a manner.
Indeed, it seemed like it might be working on him. For good measure, I flipped my hair over my shoulder casually as he let go of my hand. He started to open the door for me, but then stopped.
