by J. M. Nevins
He nodded and sat down, motioning for her to do the same on the sofa across from him. He reached for the remote to turn down the volume on the stereo as the maid returned with a tray containing two glasses of sparkling water with lime. She set the full glasses in front of each of them quietly. Lew thanked her when she left the room.
He sighed and smirked at Kit. “No more scotch for me. Doctor’s orders.”
She nodded. “It’s ok. I haven’t been drinking much since I was in the hospital. I’ve lost my taste for it. Sparkling water is more my speed these days. Jon told me that you’ve had to scale back.”
He wagged his finger. “Not by choice, Kitten. I asked you here today so we could have a one on one. Consider this an informal interview.”
He snickered. “Although Jon and I are unanimous about appointing you as CEO. As you know, though, we do require a board vote. I will tell you that the board is receptive. It looks good for you, Kitty. You’ve got an excellent dossier and they’ll be happy about that. As long as the majority shareholders agree and there are three of us—two of which outweigh the third.”
She grinned and although she was happy they were having this conversation, something felt slightly off. That strange feeling was back again. She shoved the intuitive nudge down, chalking it up to nerves.
She reminded herself that this had been her dream since moving to L.A. Here it was practically being handed to her on a silver platter yet that sinking feeling in her stomach wouldn’t let up. It seemed everything had felt off since the shooting and her brush with death.
Her L.A. life as she knew it was crumbling more and more every day. Diamond was the only mainstay she had left. She clung to it like a life preserver and kicked her intuition to the curb in one fell swoop.
She immediately jumped back into the game. “When is the vote, Lew?”
He assessed her carefully, sensing something was going on in her head. He proceeded carefully and decided to probe for information. “Thursday of next week. How did your meeting with Chris go yesterday?”
She shook her head. It had gone anything but well. She and Chris had butted heads. It wasn’t pretty. He was still pushing for a merger with Majestic, dangling the carrot of her vote for the acquisition in exchange for the seat as CEO of Diamond Records. She didn’t feel right about it.
She had been very vocal about her stance against it and that didn’t bode well with him. She met Lew’s eyes and knew she couldn’t lie. She needed to be straight with him. He had a way of seeing right through her. Total transparency was warranted.
She smirked. “It didn’t go as smoothly as I would have liked. We have different perspectives on a few crucial issues and…”
He interjected. “Majestic?”
She sighed. “Yes. Lew part of the reason why I ended up at Diamond all those years ago was because of your passion for the company and how you built it from nothing. The company is you. It deserves to have a legacy and be one of the last standing bastions of this industry. Things are changing. The climate is different. All the smaller labels are getting gobbled up by the conglomerates. Everything is a 360 deal which can be hell for the artists in the long run. I remember you saying that you would never sell. Have you changed your mind?” She searched his eyes.
He shook his head. “Hell no. I’d rather we go bankrupt then sell out. And we won’t go bankrupt with you at the helm.” He held up his finger to make his point. “This I know.”
He sighed and hung his head for a moment. “Chris may not understand exactly, but Jon does.” He looked up again and met her eyes. “Jonathan may not have the level of creativity you do, but he gets it. If we were to allow Majestic to acquire us it wouldn’t just be Diamond Records, Kit, it would be the whole enchilada.”
Her eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up. Chris had neglected to leave out that major detail. “What? Diamond Pictures? Diamond Publishing? Diamond Media?”
He nodded. “Yep. And all the imprints that go along with ‘em. By the way, I’m sorry about Flat 5, Kitty.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s ok. It wasn’t the right time. Everything happens for a reason. I’m not taking it personally. Am I disappointed? Of course. Will there be other opportunities in the future? Maybe. Who knows?”
Lew leaned forward and let out a long sigh. “GT was moved back to Diamond with a contingency clause. Spencer masterfully negotiated it for them. There are rumors everywhere that they’re breaking up. What’s going on, Kit?” His brown eyes bore into her.
She avoided his gaze. “I resigned as their manager.” She inhaled deeply knowing she had to tell Lew about she and Sully.
She worked up the courage to finally meet his eyes. “I’m filing for a legal separation from Sully. Which, most likely, will end up as a divorce eventually. I figured a legal separation would buy us more time with him finishing the tour. I’m headed out to Philly tomorrow to tell him in person.”
Lew took his glasses off, closed his eyes and rubbed them letting out a long sigh. He opened his eyes slowly. “I’m not going to ask the whys because I’m sure you have good reason. And I’m not gonna launch into a fatherly account of what you should do. Your business. Your choices. I respect that. I’m glad you won’t be taking office until Q1. That gives you a few months to work through this and I suggest you do. I’m sorry that things aren’t going well for you right now. You’ve had a tough year so far, kid. Make sure you’re taking the time for yourself to work through all this crap. I know how you can push it under the rug and work too much. Don’t do that.”
He waved his hands around to engage her. “Create more! Get it out. Use it, Kit. You may be a star maker yes, and you’re a chart-topper. You. Not GT. You wrote songs that won Grammy’s. Write, Kit. Write, express, do it! Get out in front. Be the legend that you are. The world needs your light. There’s a performer in there that’s dying to get out.”
He shook his head. “You’re gonna hate me for saying this.”
She chuckled, amused by his sudden enthusiasm. “What?”
He grinned. “There was a part of me that secretly wanted to see you break out of the corporate mold at Diamond and become an artist yourself. Hell, I would’ve signed you. You’re brilliant. You’ve got great energy on stage and I’m sure you do in front of a camera too. You’ve got your own star quality. You could be your own brand. I’d like to see you cultivate more of that. No more Kathryn R. McKenna, ESQ. No more Kit McKenna record exec and producer. It’s time to let the artist, Kit-Kat, out. Stop hiding behind the talent and the boards. You are the talent.”
He continued despite seeing her fidget in her seat. He leaned forward to make his point. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re a brilliant legal mind, businesswoman and producer. You’ve done amazing things for my company and GT, but Kit, you really shine when it comes to the creative side. All I ask is that you think about it. Entertain the idea of not only being out front as an artist with your own music, but maybe try your hand at film too as an actress. I’m sure Jonathan can hook you up with a great casting director and find a bit part for you somewhere. I can hook you up with a good agent.”
Tears were welling up in Kit’s eyes. Tears of truth. Tears of joy. Tears that confirmed everything she had been feeling in her soul since she woke up in the hospital after the shooting. She was different now. As much as she loved Diamond and her executive position, the thought of going back to the life she once had didn’t appeal to her.
She was interested in more creative self-expression and wasn’t quite sure what that looked like yet. She was in flux—in transition in so many more ways than she could ever imagine. It was as if Lew was reading her mind and it both scared and excited her.
She smiled. “Thank you for that Lew. It’s a nice reminder. My grandmother always used to tell me the same thing.”
Lew reached out and took her hand in his. “Kitten, you’re thirty-one years old. You’re young and brilliant. You have your whole life in front of you. Now that you’re on your own, you can do anyt
hing and you don’t have to run it by them. Do it.” He squeezed her hand.
She sighed. “Does this mean no more CEO position?”
He laughed. “No. It means that you’ll probably have to do some juggling. Find a good right hand man and you can do both. If your recording artist career or acting career takes off, you can replace yourself as CEO. Make sure you have good candidates. And don’t say Pete because he’s semi-retired as it is.”
She grinned. “Funny how you read my mind on that one. Pete does outstanding work.”
He shook his head to dismiss it. “He wants nothing to do with the CEO seat. He’s made that perfectly clear time and time again. That’s why he’s been my head of A&R for almost two decades. He’s passed it off to his protégée, Ryan now. The guy does decent work. Talk to Pete, Kitten. He’ll probably sign you. Throw a single or two his way.”
She laughed. “I can’t do that! It’s unsolicited!”
Lew chuckled. “Spoken like a true record exec. Start shedding that smaller exec shell and find the bigger artist shell. Y’know, like hermit crabs do.”
She frowned and giggled, curiosity ensuing as she wondered where he was going with this. “Hermit crabs?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I recently learned more about them than I would have liked spending time with Hannah, my granddaughter, Jonathan’s oldest. Anyway, she told me the story of how they outgrow their shells. When they do that, they’re a little naked and vulnerable for a time as they look for their new shell to make a new home.”
He leaned forward and met her eyes to make his point as he spoke persuasively. “Let go of your old shell, Kit. You’ll probably feel a little vulnerable and naked like that crab, but it’ll be worth the adventure. Have Spence cut a development deal with us. Hell, try for a whole one off record deal. You know the drill. Stop acting like you don’t. Diamond Publishing has done so many development deals with KMK. Why not you?”
She shook her head. He was right. She felt deeply vulnerable and self-conscious at the thought of making such a huge shift in her career at this point in her life. “We’ll see, Lew.”
He grinned. “Fair enough. Just write one song, cut the demo and give it to me. That would make me happy. Can you do that?”
She saw the determined look in his eye and giggled. “You’re not going to let this rest are you?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Start writing, Kitty. I’m giving you 24 hours to come up with something. Go home. Knock something out in that swanky recording studio of yours at home and messenger it over to me before you leave for Philly.” His eyes took on a new level of intensity. “And this may help you get through your personal challenges right now too. You’ve gotta get it out somehow. Turn it into art.”
She nodded. He did have a point. “Ok. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
He donned a satisfied grin and got up. He picked up the phone on his desk and made a call. “Gimme Anton… Yeah, it’s Lew and it’s urgent. I don’t care if he’s in a session. Drag his ass out of studio A.”
He waited while Kit watched, wondering what he was up to. Seconds later she heard him speak again. “A-Dub, you’re doing a session later at six. It’s a favor to me for a new artist we’re developing, the name’s Kit-Kat. Work the boards, do your magic… Yep, mix and master too. It’s gotta be finished by four a.m. You got me? Great, here’s the address.” He rattled off Kit’s address. “Thanks.”
He hung up the phone and headed back to the leather sofa across from her. He leaned on his elbows perching on his knees. “Just get started is all I ask. You’ve got one of the top producers in the recording industry on this for eight hours. Tonight was just a suggestion to light a fire under your ass. I understand that you’re still recovering though and your health comes first. Take the time you need. If nothing comes of your session with A-Dub tonight, no harm, no foul. No point in rushing the creative process.”
He clapped his hands together. “Ok now, enough about that. Let’s talk Diamond. Let’s get you prepped to meet with the board.” He winked at her.
She sat staring at him in awe as her head spun. She had no idea how she would create a decent song in such a short amount of time, yet her body seemed to buzz with excitement at the challenge. She felt turned on with the idea of creating something that was hers.
Maybe he was right about his hermit crab story. Time would tell. She willed her wandering mind to focus back on what Lew was saying. She didn’t want to miss out on his words of wisdom about the CEO seat.
CHAPTER 11
Kit returned from her meeting with Lew feeling rejuvenated. She was pleased that she felt like herself again physically. Her energy was up, she had gotten in a brief, light workout approved by her doctor and she was feeling tremendous clarity. So much clarity that all of the unprocessed emotions about the miscarriage, the discovery of Sully’s girlfriend Kendalle living in his Malibu house for months and the breakup of her marriage coming at her full force, felt overwhelming.
She was beyond self-medicating. After seeing Sully’s downward spiral, she elected to cut back on alcohol, almost eliminating it entirely which was easy to do. She opened herself up to the emotion headfirst and realized that she hadn’t felt this much in decades. She didn’t resist. She welcomed it, knowing it was better to have this release now before she was due to see him than tomorrow while she was there in his presence.
Instead of rolling into a ball and crying all day, she welcomed her feelings in, cultivating them instead of alienating them, remembering what Lew had said in their meeting. With that invitation, the muse paid her a visit and creative inspiration rushed in like a flood. Suddenly her apprehension of whether or not she’d meet Lew’s deadline evaporated.
She seized a notepad from her dining room table and a pen. She worked at the piano in the front room until she got everything she needed there and sprinted out to the recording studio, locking herself in and letting the words and music continue to course through her.
She rolled with the momentum, composing, writing and arranging a song in the span of one hour. The legendary sound engineer and award winning platinum pop producer, Anton Alton, or “A-Dub” as he was referred to in the industry, arrived quickly as she was putting the finishing touches on her song.
A tall forty-something, long-haired blond guy, A-Dub looked like a cross between a rocker and a mad scientist, a bit disheveled, yet with kind hazel eyes and a wicked wit. Grateful he was there, she felt a little intimidated sharing her first personal song with an industry veteran that had produced icons, had more Grammys than anyone she knew and a boatload of multi-platinum records. Her vulnerability was running high.
He took a seat behind the boards and grinned at her. He chuckled. “Relax, Kit-Kat. After you left Lew’s he called me again and told me what’s up. Don’t put pressure on yourself. Let it flow. If it doesn’t flow, we can leave it alone. We’re just playin’.”
She took a seat in the chair next to him at the boards and sighed. “You can call me Kit. It’s just I’m used to being in your seat. This feels really weird for me.”
He nodded and grinned. “I can imagine.” His face then became serious. “Get over it.” Kit’s eyes widened as she felt immediate concern that this guy was going to end up being a slave driver.
He immediately noticed her concerned expression and burst out laughing. “Kit, relax. I was playing with you. C’mon, loosen up. I get that you’ve been in my shoes and you’ve got a nice track record to go along with that. Now it’s time to let me bring your voice, yours, out of you. Not you writing for someone else. All you. Be the artist. I know you’ve got it in you. You’ve won Grammys before. That wasn’t by happenstance.”
She surveyed him closely. “Yes, I wrote and produced those songs, but I didn’t perform them. What if I suck?”
He chuckled. “I doubt that. Lew never would have called me in the first place if there was even one ioda of a chance of that. Stop backpedaling. Let’s give it a go. Are you ready?”
She sighed. �
��I’d prefer my new baby grand to be in here. The sound is better. The one that’s in there now… well…”
He leaned forward and perched on his knees. “And that’s a fucking excuse. Play it with the piano in the studio first. Or if you want me to play it first we can. If it’s out of tune or doesn’t feel right when we listen to the playback, then we can go mic up your new baby grand and track it.”
He gave her a look of warning. “Don’t fuck with me, Miss Producer. It’s time to chill out, take off that producer hat and put on your artist beret. Let go of control and let me do my job. I know you have a vision for the song and I have every intention of working with that vision to bring it to fruition. So let’s use what we have before throwing in unnecessary road blocks. Agreed?”
She chuckled. “Yes. Agreed. Sorry. This takes some getting used to for me. And I’m taking you up on your offer. If you can take the piano parts that would be awesome.”
He nodded as he got up and grinned. “Gotcha.”
She held up a sheet with notes jotted on it. “I’ve got the chord progressions in here. I haven’t written music in ages, so I hope you’re ok with scribbles instead of sheet music.”
He chuckled. “That’s more than most have given me. That’ll work. Let me start tracking. Ok, the mic is hot.” He ran in and took a seat at the baby grand. Let’s go.”
She was amazed at how easily the pieces of the puzzle started coming together as she performed the song, concentrating solely on her vocals. She found her zone and was perfectly comfortable laying down the track immediately. Her self-consciousness was now a distant memory. The recording was effortless, recording only vocals and piano to capture the essence of the song.
After a half hour of recording, they sat back together sitting side by side at the boards, listening to the raw, first run of the song, “All of Me.”
He glanced at her and hit pause. “You were right about a true baby grand over keyboards. It sounds richer. And I have some ideas for the arrangement too.”