by T. A. Foster
After the pond fishing this morning, she took a shower and focused on the meeting. She knew Evan would keep distracting her if she let him, but this was one moment in her life she knew it was ok to let the butterflies take hold. A first song deal wasn’t something she could skim over and pretend was part of everyday life. It was her life. It was a dream materializing after months of hard work. Butterflies were a good reminder of what she had accomplished.
Evan said he needed to prep for his new agent meeting. So, after the tenth time, she finally convinced him she was fine, and he left her alone to get ready and prepare.
Without him there, the bathroom seemed even larger than last night. She wasn’t sure she knew how to work all the shower buttons. After turning on music, then lights, she was able to start the water. This was a far cry from setting the seven-minute kitchen timer at home. Evan said to let the water run as long as she wanted.
Thirty minutes later, she emerged with flushed skin that was a little pruney on the fingertips, but she didn’t care. It felt wonderful.
After dabbing on the last bits of mascara, she took a deep breath and headed downstairs. Evan said someone named Bud on his security detail was going to take her to the meeting. She popped her head in Evan’s office before going to meet her escort.
“Hey, I’m getting ready to leave.”
He looked distracted, and she wasn’t sure she had seen his forehead furrowed before. There was an intensity surrounding him that was unfamiliar.
He stood from the desk and walked around to meet her. “Tell Bruce I said hey. I need to catch up with him while I’m in town. Tell him I’ll give him a call for lunch or a beer.”
“Ok, I’ll tell him.” She turned to leave.
“Wait, hold on.” He grabbed her arm. “You’re not getting out of here like that.”
Before she knew it, Evan had dipped her toward the floor and his lips were firmly planted on hers. To hell with lip gloss. She felt the warmth of his mouth and sighed as he stood her upright.
“Umm, thanks?” She laughed. She ran her fingers along her bottom lip, feeling the prickling sensation turn to numbness from Evan’s kiss.
“Good luck, but you don’t need it. They are going to love you and the contract is a done deal, so stop worrying.” He walked back toward the monstrous leather chair on the other side of his desk. “Call me when you’re on your way back.”
“Ok. I will. Bye.” She left him rifling through a stack of folders. She didn’t know what had him in such a distracted state, but this was an Evan she hadn’t seen before: slightly distant, quieter, and intent on a pile of papers.
BUD SEEMED like a nice guy. He had a Stetson that covered the top half of his head and a smile just as big. The entire drive to the Blue Steel office, Haven twisted her hands in her lap. Bud insisted she sit in the backseat, where the windows were tinted dark enough the press wouldn’t see her when they left the ranch. The only problem was that she could still see out.
There were rows of them. Microphones, tripods, cameras scattered through the crowd. As soon as Bud turned onto the Texas highway, a smattering of flashes bounced off the car. She realized they didn’t know who was in the backseat, but it didn’t calm the queasiness seeing the press mob conjured.
The roads in Texas were much wider than what she was used to. On the island, she could see the sound on one side, and the ocean on the other. Wide-open hill country was different. As the miles rolled passed, the fences and ranch gates became less frequent, and buildings started to pop up.
Bud steered them into the heart of downtown and pulled up alongside a tan brick building.
Haven pressed her palms into her legs for the tenth time since they left the house. She reminded herself what Evan said. Nothing to worry about. This was a done deal. Then why did it feel like her career was hanging on this moment?
Bud opened the door for her. “Want me to walk in with you?” he offered.
“Oh, no thank you. I think I’ll be fine.” She scanned the sidewalk for any sign that the press from the ranch might have followed them.
“I’ll be sitting right here, then.”
“Thanks, Bud.”
She walked through the double doors of Blue Steel Records and headed straight for the receptionist seated in a semicircle desk.
“May I help you?” She pulled a headset off her head to address Haven.
“Yes. I’m Haven Owen and I have an appointment with Bruce Fisher.” She tried to keep her fidgeting to a minimum. She belonged here, and the last thing she wanted to do was act nervous in front of Bruce or Carly.
“His office is on the third floor. I’ll let his assistant know you’re here.” The receptionist pointed to a set of elevator doors on her right.
“Thank you.” Haven smiled before turning for the elevators.
The elevator deposited her into a small lobby. A row of multicolored guitars hung on the walls. As she walked closer, she noticed they had all been signed. Before her jaw could hit the floor at the names she was reading, a husky woman with dark hair and glasses approached her.
“Are you Haven?”
“Y-y-yes.” The stuttering was embarrassing.
“Jennifer called from downstairs. Mr. Fisher and Miss Stone are in the conference room. I’ll show you the way.”
Haven followed the woman along the corridor, her eyes widening with each framed silver, gold, and platinum record they passed. Blue Steel wasn’t the largest label, but it was selective of its artists and even more selective about what songs it produced. That approach seemed to work. The label had more hits and sales than Haven realized.
She could hear the faint sound of a piano and guitar coming from the end of the hall.
“Here you go.” The assistant pushed open a door and ushered Haven into a conference room.
She was so stunned to see Carly Stone sitting at the table that she forgot to thank her escort.
“Haven!” Bruce Fisher stood to greet her, his deep voice filling the room.
“Mr. Fisher, it’s so nice to finally be here.” She shook his hand, trying to keep her attention on the man and act cool around Carly.
“I thought we had that settled. I’m Bruce. And this is Carly.”
The blond singer rose from her seat. “Nice to meet you. I’m already a big fan of your songs.”
Haven’s cheeks turned a deep crimson. She was the one who was supposed to say that.
“You don’t know what that means to me. I love everything you’ve ever sung or written.”
“Sit, sit.” Bruce motioned to her. “How’s Evan doing? Saw in the paper he made it back with you last night.”
“Oh.” Haven froze. It was strange that Bruce already knew the details of their trip and that they were in town together. Being a part of the news was uncomfortable.
“If I know Evan, he probably went straight to his fishing hole, right?” Carly smiled. “He loves that place, but I can’t get over the bugs. You know what I mean?”
Haven did her best not to bore holes in Carly’s forehead, but how in the hell did she know about the fishing hole? That was supposed to be his secret spot. This morning she thought she was the only person he had taken there, but that was only an assumption. He hadn’t actually told her that.
She stumbled through the fog that enveloped her mood and mustered a response. “Evan’s doing great. He’s busy at the ranch this morning.”
“I bet.” Bruce smiled. “He’s been gone a few months. Hadn’t heard from him until his agent called about your songs.”
“He said to tell you hello and he’d like to get a beer sometime.” Haven tried to remember if there was more to the message than that, but right now that was all she could recall. Her palms had stopped sweating, but her mouth was barely working. She was trying not to picture Evan and Carly at the fishing pond.
“I’ll have to give him a call.” Bruce smiled, and she tried to imagine him and Evan playing football together in college.
“Is he really going to do Re
d Lines?” Carly piped in. “He would be incredible. Can you imagine?”
“I-uh-I don’t know.” Somehow, the conversation had become Evan-laden.
Bruce opened a folder in front of him. “Red Lines? Yeah, my girlfriend read that entire series. He’s thinking about that one?” He chuckled. “So, let’s get things moving. I have another meeting in about twenty minutes.”
Haven was relieved the focus had shifted back to the real reason for the meeting.
“Sounds good to me, Bruce. I’ve got studio time booked for the afternoon.” Carly placed her phone next to her on the table.
“Haven, here’s the thing. We love the songs. We’ve been looking for something that could bring in the female audience.” Bruce spread a few charts on the table.
Carly rolled her eyes. “If you haven’t noticed, the radio is dominated by guys right now. It needs more girls like us.”
“I’m not sure I follow.” Haven was cautious with her response.
“The girl side of the story. That’s what’s not being written right now, and it’s definitely not getting played on the radio.” Carly sounded impassioned.
“Oh, ok.”
“I think what Carly is trying to say is that Blue Steel is trying to make a push to bring the female demographic back into play. We can’t put that all on her shoulders. She needs help, and your songs seem like the starting ground to bring someone else in who can write about what girls want to hear without pushing away the male fan base. Our research team has some great numbers on the market trends.” He pointed to the charts on display in front of him.
Haven had never considered her songs girly or female-centered. They were the words that hit her in the shower or when she was working behind the cash register. They were just her words. Her feelings. There was never an intention to reach a demographic. It was always only about the lyrics.
Bruce continued. “What do you think about you and Carly teaming up to give Blue Steel this edge? Really push the girl power or whatever you want to call it?”
“We’re not calling it girl power, Bruce.” Carly giggled. “But seriously, Haven. I think you and I are coming from the same place. We could do this. Give the guys a run for their money.” The blonde winked.
Haven nodded, still confused. “Sure, absolutely. Sounds great.” She had a sinking feeling that she was swimming in waters that were way over her head. She knew nothing about numbers, fan reach, or radio stats. This was supposed to be about the lyrics.
Twenty minutes later, they had agreed on a production start date and Carly had insisted Haven be there when she recorded the first track. Working with Carly and Blue Steel was going to require that she be in the Austin area for at least a month, longer if the songs took off.
Her father had discussed helping her move, but she had yet to bring the subject up with Evan. She was committed to a four-day trip. Only forty-eight hours ago they were broken up. Moving to the same town was a talk they needed to wade into.
She slipped into the backseat as Bud held the door open for her. She was glad the drive to the ranch was a long one. She had more to think about now than ever before.
EVAN DIDN’T realize so much had been left undone in his absence. He did take off without an explanation or a plan in place, so he had to take responsibility for the state of his affairs.
He tossed a stack of bills in his mail bin. There were scripts, contracts, and unsolicited agent resumes cluttering his desk. Word was out that he had fired Allan, and there were enough go-getters brave enough to blindly forward their work history.
He hoped to God today’s interview would be the first and last. He didn’t have time for this. Things were piling up. They had piled up. He needed someone on the front lines running the show.
Sometime today, he needed to talk to Anna about the Carlson Foundation and find out what kind of shape it was in. She was the one person he had complete faith in. His big sister had never let him down.
Marta stood in the doorway. “Sir, there’s a call from the gate that your three o’clock appointment is here.”
“Tell them to send him up. You can bring him back here when he arrives, Marta. Thanks.”
“Certainly.”
He would know in ten minutes if he could work with Jeff Colt. Evan didn’t consider himself judgmental, but in his first exchange with the guy, he would know whether they could work together or not. This wasn’t just any position on his staff. This was the position.
When he first started in the business, he had a manager and an agent, but it didn’t take him long to figure out those two people had to work completely in sync with each other at all times. To smooth the edges and uncomplicate life, he morphed the two roles into one and hired a mega agent who could handle the managerial part of his life.
“Sir?” Marta poked her head in the door. “He’s here.”
“Send him in.”
Evan placed a set of scripts on his desk and shuffled the files together to meet Jeff Colt.
The agent extended a hand and gripped Evan’s firmly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Carlson. I appreciate the meeting.”
“Likewise.” Evan pointed him to a leather sofa and took the opposite seat. Jeff came to the meeting empty-handed. “So tell me a little about your background. What got you into this business?”
Jeff cleared his throat. “Well, to be honest, I wanted to be a sports agent.”
Evan laughed. “Is that right?” He kicked his ankle up and rested it across his knee.
“Sure is, but the more I was involved, the more I realized I was promoting the celebrity side of the athletes, so why not go ahead and work with celebrities?”
“Good point.” Evan had a few friends in professional sports, and other than where you saw them play, there wasn’t a lot of difference between what they did and what he did. “I’m sure you’re current on my situation,” he continued. “I’m looking for someone who can handle the press, advise me on what’s happening out there, and mainly keep this shit out of my life.” He held up this morning’s newspaper.
Jeff nodded. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your media circus. Looks like you have a few problems right now.”
“Sure do. If I hired you, what would you do about them?”
Jeff leaned forward on his knees. “Honestly?”
“Of course. I don’t need anyone else bullshitting me.” He was anxious to hear what the agent had to say. “I’ve had enough of that already.”
“It mainly depends on you. Are you in or out of the movie business?”
“I’m taking a pause.” That was the best explanation he could produce.
“Well, that’s not going to work.”
“What do you mean?” Evan sat up straight.
“Ambivalence doesn’t help you; it’s only going to hurt. If you want out of the business, you need to retire. We can put together a press conference, whatever you want, but you need to make an official statement saying that you are no longer seeking films and you are riding off into the sunset.” He paused. “Or, you get on this popularity horse and ride it into making your career bigger than you ever dreamed possible. You are the number one talked about male actor right now. That horse is out there waiting for you. The sky’s the limit on how far it can take you.”
“Are you talking about Red Lines?”
“Yes and every other top-grossing box office script sitting in front of a casting director. You could have your pick of any of them if you commit to Red Lines.”
“But I haven’t talked to a damn soul on that set.”
Jeff shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. The author endorsed you, and she wrote the screenplay. She wants you. Social media wants you. And from what I’ve heard, Emmy Harper wants you too.”
Evan slapped his knee. “Dammit. I need to get away from Emmy, not get back in that trap with her. I knew she wasn’t going to drop this.”
“Look, I don’t know what your personal story is with her, only what I’ve read, but she’s America’s sweetheart and she spu
n your love story into something epic. Do you have any idea how many magazine copies her Vogue interview sold?”
“I don’t care about magazine copies. I care about staying out of them. I value privacy.”
Jeff smiled. “You realize you’re a movie star, right?”
Evan glared at him harder than he intended. He didn’t need one more person telling him how impossible it was to have both worlds.
“I don’t care about being in the press.” His words were firm.
“I know you don’t, but like it or not, Emmy put you in the spotlight and made you more popular than you already were. Her campaign for you two to star in this movie has worked.” Jeff sat back against the leather. “But I understand if this isn’t what you want. I’m not here to tell you which direction to take; I’m here to make whichever direction you choose happen. I will make it happen. Just tell me which path you want.”
Evan considered his stance. It wasn’t like anything he had heard before. Allan was always trying to convince him to take the next role, make the next photo shoot, commit to the next charity event. For once, there was someone telling him he would support Evan’s retirement.
“I need to think about it some more.”
“Which part?” Jeff looked nervous for the first time since he had sat down.
“Red Lines or retirement.” Evan smiled. “You, you’re hired.” He reached across the coffee table and shook his hand.
“Wow. Thanks. Thank you. I can start immediately.”
“Good.” Evan stood. “And you’re certain Red Lines would be the best option if I decide to do another film? Have you even read the book?”
Jeff joined him next to the desk. “I read most of it. You have to admit, most guys would kill to be in that movie with Emmy Harper.”
Evan shook his head. “Yeah, the problem is I already lived all that with Emmy.” He ran a hand along his jaw, remembering their nights together. “Any chance it will be a different actress? Could I request someone else if I agreed to do it?”
“They want her. She has the perfect innocent vixen look going for her and kicking her off will only make things worse. The last thing you want is bad press.”