by KB Winters
“What’s up there, bro?” I asked.
He ignored me.
I tried to ignore the irritation that was bubbling up as I watched him type. Only once he slid the phone back into his pants pocket did I repeat the question.
“That’s total bullshit. She doesn’t even know what the fuck she’s doing. I’ve had my eye on them for a while. I was going to make them an offer next month,” he finally replied.
Alarm warnings were going off in my head. Christopher was not the kind of guy who took no for an answer or ever accepted defeat. If he wanted this band, Livvie’s band, he would sure as hell find a way to get it.
Even if that meant blazing everything in his path.
Chapter Four — Livvie
“Oh, my God! Livvie! I’ve been trying to call you all morning.” Kaylee practically pounced on me as I entered the coffee shop where we’d been holed up all week. We each came and went, like a changing of the guards. The shop was open twenty-four hours, and as long as we kept buying drinks and food, the staff didn’t seem to care that we had taken up permanent residence at their corner table.
“What’s going on?” I asked, suddenly breathless as I swept my hair aside.
“We’re saved!” she squealed, drawing a few shooting glances from the others occupying the cafe.
I gestured for her to tone down the volume, but she seemed unstoppable. “What are you talking about?”
“Here, here,” she said. By way of explanation, she shoved a piece of paper in my hands. I looked at her and then down at the paper and then back up at her.
“What is it?”
She sighed. “Just read it!”
She was still smiling and beaming like she’d just won the lottery, so I dropped my eyes to the page and started to absorb the words. Halfway through, my face cracked into a smile that matched Kaylee’s.
“Oh, my gosh! A record deal?” I kept reading. “This is going to—”
“Save us!” Kaylee interrupted. At that point, she was bouncing up and down and people at adjoining tables were starting to look pissed. If we were going to keep our territory—not to mention access to fresh-baked scones and single origin coffee—she needed to catch a chill.
“Okay, okay, shhh.” I patted at her arm and directed her to our usual table. We sat down but the table was bouncing. I looked down and Kaylee’s feet were jiggling the thin frame of the small bistro table. “Kaylee, seriously. Don’t make me sedate you. I know a vet.”
She wrinkled her nose. “A vet?”
“Yeah, as in horse tranquilizers. I seriously think that’s the only thing that would even you out right now.” I answered, only halfway joking.
She smiled. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just the wedding plans, and now this! It’s like the universe is finally smiling again.”
I didn’t have the heart to repeat the half a dozen beyond depressing news items I’d heard on the radio that morning while driving downtown. It was best to let her be.
“All right.” I read the email again, making sure I wasn’t missing anything.
Dear Miss Sanders,
My name is Christopher Diaz, and I own Vantage Point Beats, a record label based here in our glorious city of Los Angeles. I am reaching out to you in hopes that we could have a meeting in regards to your representation of the musical group known as Downside. I have some options I would like to run by you.
Please call me at your earliest convenience.
Regards,
Christopher Diaz
Vantage Point Beats
I breathed out a sigh, not meaning to have held my breath through the second read through. My head was spinning with what it could mean. If he was interested in Downside, it could mean a record deal, and that was the jumping off point I’d need to get the ball rolling. It could be the kick start needed to launch my entire company.
See? I don’t need Remy after all.
“So? What do you think?” Kaylee asked.
“It’s really good news. But, we still have to see what he wants to offer us. I mean, this is promising, but it’s not a guarantee.”
Kaylee’s smile didn’t falter for even a second. “Well, then I guess you better go make a call and lock it down!”
“Right!” I scooped up my phone and hustled outside the busy coffeehouse to make the call. While the line was ringing, I practiced my most professional greeting in my head, fully expecting a secretary to answer.
“This is Christopher Diaz,” a deep-timbered voice answered after the fourth ring.
My heart dropped into my stomach. I hadn’t been prepared for him to actually be the one answering the phone. My lines all mixed together in my head and I stumbled over what to say.
“Um—hi, yes. This is, well, my name is Liv—I mean, Olivia Sanders.”
Shit. Might as well add Incompetent Talent Manager to my business cards now and get it over with.
“I’m Olivia Sanders and I represent the musical group, Downside. My assistant notified me of your email in regards—”
“Hello, Olivia,” the voice interrupted, saving me from my mindless blathering.
“Hello,” I replied. “How can I help you?”
“Well, actually, I was calling to see how I could help you. As stated in my email, I’ve had my eye on the guys of Downside for a while now. I’d be very interested in meeting with you to discuss their future,” he answered, and it sounded like a polished purr of a well-oiled machine. His voice was slick and sure with each syllable.
It reminded me of Remy.
“Of course,” I replied, pushing Remy back to the corner of my mind where I’d exiled him.
“Excellent. Are you at your office now? I could meet you there,” he asked.
Aha! The awkward part where I explain that I’m lacking an office. Excellent.
“You know, I’m actually at this little coffee shop. I could come to you,” I suggested, pressing my eyes closed and hoping he wouldn’t push the issue too much.
Theoretically, it shouldn’t have mattered—but it did. I was finally in a conversation with a fancy label head and possibly gaining the much needed traction I’d need, and I wanted to put on the show that I could compete at the same level.
Even if it wasn’t altogether true.
“Sounds wonderful. The address is 400 Briggs Avenue, top floor, I’ll see you soon,” he said.
We exchanged goodbyes and I clicked off the line, making sure the call was really ended before breaking out into my happy dance right there on the sidewalk.
***
Half an hour later, I was across town in a swanky neighborhood of retail shops that sat underneath block after block of chic office spaces. My GPS led me through the maze of side streets and I arrived at the address. It was a modern looking building, probably something built in the last few years, and there was a posh-looking clothing boutique at the street level. From looking in the windows, I could picture it as the kind of shop my roommate, Tessa, would love. Sadly, that also likely meant that the most basic shift dress probably cost more than I made in a month.
For now, at least.
I looked up at the office space and reminded myself that this was it—my shot, my ticket to the big leagues. If all went well here, I’d be on my way to being able to shop in fancy little boutiques like the one in front of me, without sneaking a peek at the price tag and sucking in a gasp of shock each time. I’d be able to start my real, grown-up life and not have to worry and struggle every month to just pay my portion of the rent on our tiny apartment.
I took a deep breath and let that mix of peace and excitement dance all through my body, before I pushed open the doors and headed upstairs to the suite number for Vantage Point Beats.
“Good afternoon.” The receptionist greeted me as I entered the lobby. I heard her call out to me, but was unable to respond as my eyes swept the room and took in the lushness of the office. It was like stepping onto a movie set or into the pages of a high-end furniture store catalog. The walls were the color of a w
arm mocha, with sleek, expensive-looking ergonomic chairs wrapped in fine leather. Everything from the finishings to the selection of plants strategically placed throughout gave the feeling of opulence and money.
Lots and lots of money. Big money. Obscene money.
My heart jumped up a few beats per minute as I stepped up to the cool, marble-topped desk. “Hello. My name is Olivia Sanders and I’m here to see Mr. Diaz.”
The receptionist gave me the once-over, as if inspecting me to see if I was fit to meet with her boss.
It probably was a fair question in her mind. After all, I was sure that I looked quite a bit different than the normal people she saw walk through those doors. I was dressed in my usual dark jeans, simple flats, and a plain, black t-shirt. The only thing even remotely expensive on my body was my silver hoop earrings, and even those were probably pocket change to someone like her.
“I’ll let Mr. Diaz know you’re here. Please, take a seat.”
I backed away slowly and perched onto one of the leather chairs.
Minutes later, a man appeared that I assumed to be Christopher, although he was quite a bit younger—and way hotter—than I’d imagined. He stopped to whisper something in the receptionist’s ear and she giggled. When he looked up, he gave a quick flash of a smile in my direction.
“Olivia,” he said, leaving the receptionist’s side and rounding the desk to come greet me. He extended his hand. “Christopher Diaz.”
“Hello,” I said as I tried to give him my best no-nonsense handshake. I found myself wishing I’d worn heels as he towered over me. Everything about him seemed to be oversized—well, at least everything I could see, although it did make a girl wonder.
Christopher was tall, broad-shouldered and obviously logged some serious time at the gym. His jaw was squared and chiseled like an ancient, Grecian athlete. Just his presence filled the room with a spark of ego and power. It was both mesmerizing and intimidating at the same time. His fashion choices seemed calculated but relaxed, and offset his hard-bodied appearance. He was dressed in jeans and a navy blue pullover sweater—probably cashmere—which made him look more like a college student than a rich businessman.
“Thank you for coming down on such short notice. Please, follow me. Did Tiffany get you anything to drink? Eat?”
The receptionist shot me a dirty look but Christopher’s dark brown eyes were on me, obviously missing the hostility radiating from the front desk.
“I’m all right, thank you,” I replied.
Tiffany shrank back in her seat and I had to fight the urge to flip her off as Christopher led me back through the corridor to his office. He ushered me inside and I took a seat, anxiously perched at the edge of the plush leather seat like a bird waiting for takeoff.
“Well, I’d like to cut to the chase and get right to business. Then, perhaps we can move on to other…topics of conversation,” Christopher started, flashing me another mega-watt smile.
I nodded and tried to return the smile, but my palms were starting to sweat at the thinly veiled insinuation in his voice. I didn’t need—or want—another Remy situation. This was business only. Yes, he was an extremely attractive man, but that didn’t matter. I was closer than I’d ever been to being a self-made woman, and I wasn’t about to let business and pleasure come together and blur those lines—not again.
I cleared my throat and Christopher’s attention snapped back to the stack of papers on the desk before him. “So, Olivia, how long have you been managing Downside? Like I said, I’ve been watching them for a while, and I don’t recall them having management before.”
“I just signed them, actually. So, the timing on this is great,” I said, offering my best smile.
He returned it and leaned forward on his desk. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
My skin warmed as he flashed me another dazzling smile. God, he was hot. His dark hair shone almost blue under the lights. I swallowed hard, trying to will myself to think straight.
“How did you get started with talent management? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“No, of course not. I actually went to school for business, and I also did a summer internship at a record label to learn the ropes and make some connections.”
Christopher nodded but then dropped his gaze down to the stack of papers on his desk. “Interesting. Well, Olivia, let me tell you what I’m offering.”
My stomach lurched as Christopher laced his fingers together.
“I want Downside to make an album here in my studio.”
“That’s great!” My breath released in a gust of relief. “They are going to be thrilled, I just know it!”
“All I need is your pretty little signature on the dotted line.” He passed over a stack of papers. “I figured this would be a clear-cut decision, so I went ahead and had the contracts printed. This is the formal offer.”
I took it and started to read through the terms, careful to slice my way through the legalese that was saturating the pages.
“It really is quite simple, Olivia,” Christopher interjected as I continued reading. “I’m sure it’s on par with other business deals you’ve done before.”
“Of course,” I replied, my eyes still searching the words. I’d gently exaggerated my level of experience. I’d worked at a record label, but it had only been for a few months, and I’d never so much as touched a contract. I’d mostly been in charge of fetching coffee. Okay, coffee and flirting with a couple of drummers…
I didn’t know what all the implications were—the words all seemed to jumble together. By the time I reached the final page and saw the blank line for my signature, I was just as confused as before I’d started reading.
I looked up into Christopher’s dark eyes and he smiled once again before handing over a smooth, silver-plated pen. “Any questions?”
Yes. Hundreds. But, I couldn’t risk losing this deal by poking around too much. I’d spent the last few weeks slowly drowning. To turn down the only available life preserver in sight would be idiotic.
I gripped the pen and signed my name to the bottom of the final page.
Chapter Five — Remy
“Hey, man, you sure got a set on ya, don’t you?” I fired off as soon as JJ picked up my call.
“What are you talking about?”
“You sold me out to my mother. Don’t play with me. I know it was you.”
I’d been stewing over the issue for weeks, wondering if I should even give my irritation a voice. But, as it turned out, I needed something only JJ could get for me. The fact that getting it would also give me a chance to throw a few insults his way was a bonus.
“Dude, you need to relax. I haven’t talked to Madge in months,” JJ protested.
I wished I’d thought ahead to have this conversation in person. I needed to see his face to tell if he was lying or not.
“Really? Then how did she find out I was hanging out with Livvie?”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t me. Come on, you know me better than that.”
I sighed and ran my free hand through my hair. Something in his tone let me know he was being straight with me. I was relieved that my friend hadn’t ratted me out, but that also meant that it opened a new puzzle to find out who had thrown me under Madge’s bus of terror.
“All right. I’m sorry, dude. I’ve just been going through it lately. And I thought—”
“It’s fine, Remy. I get it. I’ll look into it, if you want?” JJ offered.
“Maybe later. Right now, I need something else,” I replied.
“What’s that?”
“I need her address.”
“Whose?”
“Livvie’s, genius.” My voice was terse again and I silently checked myself. The stress was turning me into a real douche bag.
“All right, man. You don’t need to get so hostile. On the same side, remember?”
I rolled my shoulders back, trying to relax the knots that were bunched up between my shoulder blades.
&
nbsp; “I just sent it. Good luck, dude,” JJ said and then hung up.
I knew I’d have to fix things between us later. JJ was too valuable—and too dangerous—to lose as an ally.
He would have to wait.
***
From my position on her welcome mat, I could see Livvie’s face as she finished climbing the stairs and caught her first sight of me. Her expression rapidly shifted from neutrality to seething anger.
“Remy? Seriously? What the fuck are you doing here?” Livvie demanded. “I can’t believe you—”
I held up my hands. “—let me spare you a tirade. I know you hate me. I didn’t come here to change your mind, so let’s just leave that grenade pin right where it is, okay?”
She crossed her arms and planted her feet to the thinly carpeted hallway floor. “No, it’s not okay. But then again—I already know my opinion means nothing to you, so please, by all means, proceed.”
She was practically snarling as she spoke. Her arms pressed in tighter against her chest and I was actually surprised her nostrils weren’t flaring as she breathed. She certainly looked capable of sprouting wings and raining fire and brimstone down on me.
Which I knew I deserved.
“I’m here as a friend,” I said.
She let out a harsh “Hah!” of laughter. “A friend? Remington, you are many, many things. My friend is simply not one of them.”
Convincing her to listen to me was going to be harder than I’d thought. I’d expected her to be angry, but I’d also thought she would have simmered by now…at least a little.
“What do you want from me, Livvie? You want me to grovel and kiss your feet?”
The image of me on my knees in front of her brought up an entirely different reaction than what I’d been hoping for. She was wearing those ass-hugging dark jeans again, and I just knew she was wearing slinky panties underneath. If only I could talk her off the ledge. If her roommate wasn’t home, maybe we could get some alone time.
It had been a month of blue balls and halfhearted jerking off and I was more than ready for a change of pace.