While I’d met Bo during his work with his family’s non-profit, DROP, he was well groomed in all forms of business. His father had inherited a century-old New Hampshire newspaper when he was barely over the age of twenty. A well-educated man, Spencer Cavanaugh spent years learning the ropes, then carefully sold the company off in pieces, tripling his net-worth. From that point, he dabbled in several non-profit endeavors, which is something one can do when they’re worth over twenty million dollars. He used his experiences to guide his children in shrewd business negotiation. Bo formalized his training with an MBA, but, really, he was head and shoulders above most of his classmates long before diplomas were handed out.
“I know we have a show in two days,” Solstice silenced the small talk of contracts—which we still needed to have viewed by an attorney—with her sweetly authoritative voice, “but we should take tonight off and celebrate. Willow is DJing at the Iron Lady tonight, and while all of you were hugging and kissing I called and arranged to have a private room. It’ll be ready in an hour.”
I turned to Bo. “We should go back to the bed and breakfast to freshen up. The Iron Lady is north of there.”
It had been a long and emotionally exhausting day. A good shower was in order before celebrating the rapidly approaching next chapter of my life. Our life.
“We’ll come with you guys.” Georgia looked like she was dying for a little space. It had been an emotionally charged afternoon for her, as well. Until Regan could calm her down enough to show her that he wasn’t giving up any opportunity, I’d thought her head was going to explode.
Once we were in the car, the four of us exhaled in near-unison.
“Well,” Regan said as he drove us down the road, “that was one hell of a day, huh?”
“Can we squeal yet?” I bit my lip as a dumb grin erupted through my body.
Bo clapped his hands loudly, and then started drumming on the ceiling of the car. “Woo hoo! A record deal, baby!” He leaned over and grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss.
It was a rare and beautiful sight to see Bo so animated. He was always honest with his emotions, but he was also very even-keeled. That was necessary, as far as being in a relationship with yours truly was concerned, but this was something I didn’t get to see very often. Bo Cavanaugh: Unglued.
I was willing to bet he handed out those smiles like candy in high school. But, by the time I entered his path, life had done a good job of training his guard. Funny, how I thought I was the guarded one. Watching his youthful glee during the discussion of our record deal showed me I still had a great deal to learn about the deep down hidden places in the core of my husband.
“I can’t believe I’m married to a rock star,” I teased, kissing his nose.
He licked his lips and a flicker of dangerous passion shot through his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m married to the hottest rock star the world has yet to meet.”
Regan eyed us through the rearview mirror. “Who are you two going to have look over your contracts?”
Ah, reality.
We had a deal. It was well written, emailed to us with the final details an hour after we left our meeting with Yardley. The I’s were dotted and the T’s were crossed, but it technically wasn’t signed. Yardley stated she’d have her lawyer give the deal a once-over and would be in contact with us by Tuesday. That gave us two days to find a lawyer and have them look over the terms in order to give the impression that we had our act together far more than we actually did.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Bo sat back and put his business mask back on, “I could certainly run it by the board at DROP, though none of them actually specialize in entertainment law, which is a whole different thing.”
“They might know someone else?” I suggested.
He shrugged, looking quite serious. “I suppose, but we need this done rather quickly.
My mind flicked through all the lawyers I’d been in contact with over the last several years. Like Bo’s dilemma, mine were far removed from the entertainment industry.
Except for one.
I shifted in my seat, hoping Bo wouldn’t notice my attempt not to mention him at all.
“No.” He shook his head as authoritatively as he spoke.
With an exaggerated eye roll, I began standing up for something I hadn’t even brought up. “Why not? You know he’s good. Christ, you hired him for DROP because you knew he was top-notch. If you remember his resume, which I know you do because you don’t forget a damn thing, he specializes in entertainment law.”
“Who’s the floating pronoun?” Georgia mumbled to Regan.
“I have no…” He looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened. “Ooh. That must be Adrian, Ember’s ex-boyfriend from college.”
“Not just college,” Bo grumbled.
I chuckled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This is two-year-old history, you wackjob. Need I remind you that I had to work with your ex-girlfriend while we were broken up?”
Georgia turned her head to the back seat. “Ainsley Worthington, right?”
Bo looked at me with an amused smirk, then to Georgia. “Yes.” He sighed.
Georgia winked at me, blew a kiss to Bo, and turned back around.
“Can we get back to planet Earth?” I urged. “I’ll call Adrian, ask if I can send the contract for him to look over this weekend, and that’ll be the end of it. If he says no, we’ll send it to your board.”
Bo cracked a full smile, shaking his head and growling. “I’m sorry. I hate when I have these visceral reactions. Call Adrian. I mean, if anyone is going to feel weird, it’ll be him. Right? I got the girl.” Bo winked and grabbed my hand, kissing it softly.
“Christ,” I joked. “It was never a love triangle. Just a jumbled mess of chaos.”
“Um, it was definitely a triangle,” Georgia shot to the back seat.
I twisted my lips and playfully slapped the back of her seat. “Traitor. Mind your business.”
Once we were back at the bed and breakfast, everyone headed for the door.
“I’ll hang out here to make the call.” I waved my hand to everyone, and they continued on their way.
“You have his number?” Bo asked.
“Google,” I called over my shoulder as I walked to a bench at the edge of the parking area.
It was late in Massachusetts, but that meant nothing as far as Adrian’s work hours were concerned. His clients tended to keep later hours due to performance schedules, so his office hours followed suit. If his secretary wasn’t in, I’d just leave a message and then call his personal line. You can only delete numbers from your phone. Not your brain. Adrian had had the same cell phone number since we were in college, long before I even owned a cell phone. I’d dialed that number from landline phones over a thousand times.
Still, I thumbed through my phone, Googling his law firm and dialing the listed number. As it rang, I started to feel guilty for calling. Adrian and I hadn’t spoke for over two years, and I was going to dial in a favor? I volleyed between asserting that we were adults and could handle a business conversation, and condemning myself for a seemingly selfish act. Before I could change my plan, someone picked up.
“Turner here.”
Oh, of course he’d answer.
I wasn’t given a second wave of emotional barrier by speaking to his secretary. I could have hung up, but my label of “adult” prevented such actions.
“Adrian,” I spewed out with a dash of over-enthusiasm, “it’s Ember … November Harr—Cavana—. It’s Ember.” I rolled my eyes at myself. Ember would have sufficed.
I took his extra-long pause as an opportunity to clear my throat. He cleared his in response.
“Hi. I’m surprised … how are you?” He sounded decidedly older and more mature as he seemed to struggle with exactly what to say.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile away the rest of my jitters. Crunching from the gravel driveway as a car pulled into the lot did little to
pull me out of my nervousness. “I’m really good. Listen, I’m sorry to call out of … the blue … but I have an entertainment contract I need help looking over. I’m not asking for your official representation or anything—”
“Is this for you?” His voice brightened, and for the flash of an instant, I pictured the twenty-year-old lacrosse star all the other girls at Princeton drooled over.
“Mm-hmm.”
I took a few minutes to give Adrian the basics of the contract. Several times through the conversation I thought we should have just sent the paperwork to DROP’s legal team. But, mixing Bo's non-profit funds with professional endeavors would undoubtedly cause a major problem for someone.
“So,” I wrapped up, “if you’re willing, I can email you the file as soon as we get off the phone. Make sure you bill me for however long it takes you.”
I could hear the long exhale of Adrian’s deep breath before he answered. “I’d be happy to do it, Ember. Congratulations on your marriage. Sorry that’s a little late.” He chuckled and I echoed.
I didn’t ask him how he’d heard. Sometimes it’s better to not know something.
“Yeah, well … life, huh?” I bit my lip and looked down. In that moment I wanted to race up to my room, wrap my arms around Bo’s neck, and thank him for taking me back.
“Yeah.” Adrian’s voice went somewhere far enough away that I didn’t want to go with him. I was glad the conversation was almost over.
“So,” I started.
“Right,” he interrupted. “Just send the contract over and I’ll have it back to you by the morning. From what you said, it sounds pretty standard. A damn good deal, but uncomplicated. I’ve heard good things about the way Yardley Honeywell does business.”
“You have?” My ears perked up
“She’s no-nonsense and has a hell of an eye and ear for talent. Comes from money but doesn’t leave her wallet open. From what I’ve seen from some of Pace’s clients, she likes to develop long-term business relationships. Definitely not fly by night.”
I grinned, as I always did at the mention of Pace. “I thought he was in real estate.”
Adrian huffed. “He’ll follow money wherever it’ll take him. He’s a hell of a lawyer, though. I’ll give him that.”
It seemed the Pace boys’ rivalry wouldn’t conclude anytime soon based on the half-praise, half-envious tone Adrian always seemed to carry when discussing his older brother.
“Anyway,” Adrian continued, “you’ll be in good hands with Grounded Sound. Do you have a manager?”
“Not yet, though we’re working on it.”
Beckett had approached me at the club the other night, before we’d met Yardley, about representing me if I ever chose to go to, or was offered, the next level. I told him I’d think about it, though I wasn’t sure there was much to think about. Bo and I hadn’t talked about it, but I knew he didn’t care for Beckett. He seemed to tighten his jaw when Beckett smiled at me like someone who’d known me my whole life. Because he had.
Adrian’s voice retained its professional cool. “Well, when you get settled back on the East coast, if you still need representation, I can make recommendations to you.”
“Thanks, Adrian.”
“No problem, Ember. It was good to hear from you.” A smile seemed to finally pour over his words.
“You too, bye.”
“Bye.”
Grateful to be through with what turned out to be a not-so-awkward conversation, I made my way inside and back up to our room. As I approached the door, I heard two different male voices. One was Bo’s, but the other definitely wasn’t Regan’s. If my stomach had a face, it would have grinned in that moment. A dry, sarcastic grin of someone settling in to be entertained by awkwardness.
I opened the door and my ears hadn’t, in fact, deceived me. Beckett was standing, leaning against one of the posts of the bed, with his hands casually in his pockets. His freeform sandy brown waves looked significantly more carefree than I felt in that moment, given the look Bo shot me as I crossed the threshold.
“Ah, there she is!” Beckett flashed his best smile, one that accented the sun-kissed creases around his eyes. “I saw you on the phone outside when I pulled up, but it looked like a serious phone call, so I thought I’d come up and wait for you.”
I pulled my lips into as big of a smile as they would allow, still unsure about the look on Bo’s face. “I was just on the phone with the lawyer who agreed to look over our contract. I’ve got to email it to him. Give me just a sec.”
I walked over to the desk and pulled out my laptop, feeling two sets of steely blue eyes on me. I quickly navigated to my mail and forwarded the contract to Adrian. Once it was sent, I closed the laptop again, and turned around slowly.
“So he’ll look it over?” Bo asked, despite having been present for the last several minutes.
I nodded and walked to him, lifting up on my tiptoes and kissing his chin. As I suspected, the muscles were as tight as brick. “Yep. He said it sounded standard so it shouldn’t take long.”
“That was a pretty kickass contract,” Beckett agreed. “I was just talking with Bo about the conversation you and I had the other night. About management.”
Oh, for God’s sake.
I looked up at Bo, who returned a somewhat accusing gaze. “I hadn’t had a chance to bring it up yet,” I said to Beckett. “The last couple of days were really crazy.”
Beckett shrugged, his eyes looking far more amused than I would have liked, though that could have been my own guilty conscience. Even though I didn’t think I had anything to feel guilty about. “It’s all right. You’ve got someone looking over the initial contact. In theory you won’t really need a manager, unless you want something more, or when the term of your current contract ends. You’ve got a year.”
Bo put his arm around my shoulders as he spoke. “I think we’ll probably get settled first, see how recording the album goes, and the tour … and all of that before we decide what to do next.”
“Great,” Beckett answered. “Well, I’ll be heading back to New York in a few days, but I’ll see you when you get to town, I’m sure.”
“Of course,” I agreed cheerfully, needing this exchange to be over.
Beckett extended his hand toward Bo, who shook it firmly. “It’s great to meet you, man.”
“You, too,” Bo replied cordially.
It was often my only tell that Bo was feeling uncomfortable. When he slipped into Mr. Fortune 500 mode. His poker face was fierce … and frustrating.
Beckett turned to me and pulled me into a warm, sunblock-scented hug. “I can’t wait to see you tear up those charts, Em. This is amazing.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, feeling guilty for wanting a childhood friend to leave as quickly as possible. “We’ll see you in New York.”
Once Beckett left and I shut and locked the door, I turned to find Bo leaning against the same bedpost Beckett had claimed minutes earlier.
“Sorry for not telling you about that talk I had with Beckett the other night,” I started. “There were just a lot of ifs in that conversation. I hadn’t seen him in years, and it really wasn’t something I was bothering to consider.” Once I studied Bo’s face, irritation began to brew. “But, I gotta say, I don’t really like the way you’re looking at me.”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” Bo shrugged as if that was the only answer.
“I can’t do anything about how people look at me, Bo. You, of all people, should know that we can’t do anything about how people look at us.” My nostrils flared to accommodate my angry breath.
He scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Um … everything.” I looked around, a self-protective grin forming on my lips. “For the last year and a half, I’ve heard girls screaming your name, and watched them fawn all over you anytime they got close enough.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know them.”
“So?” I shrieked, sounding more like a teena
ger than a levelheaded human being.
Bo growled and ran his hand over his face. “Gah! Okay, you know that little freak-out you had the other night in bed?”
“Hardly a little freak-out,” I mused. “But, yeah.”
He walked toward me and put his hands on my shoulders. “I’m having one now. For every groupie trying to get my number, there will be a hot industry exec waiting in the wings to woo you away from me.”
I meant to say something profound and romantic and helpful. Instead, I burst into incredible laughter.
“What?” He exclaimed before throwing his head back in an equally loud laugh.
“Jesus,” I tried to slow my breath enough to speak, but the laughter kept coming. “We’re a goddamn mess and we’ve had a record contract for less than twenty-four hours!”
Bo squeezed me against his chest as his breathing finally regulated. “You’re right. Sorry for being an ass. I love you.” He kissed me on the forehead. “Fuck, let’s get some sleep so we can finish out this tour and plan our move back east, okay?”
I bit my lip, looking up at his newly scruffy jawline. “I agree. I’m exhausted. Shave your face in the morning, though. Some of those little girly girls might like it, but it makes you look like you’re trying too hard. A face like yours ought to be seen.”
With a wink and a kiss, everything was on stable ground once more.
Bo
“I can’t believe that went by so fast.” Georgia looked at Ember and me, and shoved her hands in her pockets as she stood next to Regan in the middle of the airport. “How did that last month disappear?”
Our summer tour with The Six was over, and it was time to honor our new contracts. Ember and I packed up our beachside bungalow, shipped our belongings to my—our—house in Concord, New Hampshire, and were now saying goodbye to our closest friends on the West Coast.
“I know. It was too fast.” Ember’s voice was quiet, but strong.
While I knew she was sad about saying goodbye to Regan and Georgia, we had a shared excitement about our new adventure that made this goodbye a little easier.
Bo & Ember Page 7